Archive of Our Own

Sometimes prayers are spoken impulsively. “Gods help me!” being one of the more frequent ones. These prayers are spoken to anyone who will listen unlike the prayers accompanied with offerings inside dedicated temples, addressed to that specific god. 

It’s these impulsive ones Ling Wen struggles to sort to an appropriate deity. Sure, she knows every god’s domain and responsibility, but right now, what she wants more than anything, is for the rest of these incompetent fools to sort their own damn prayers. 

Of the civil gods, it’s no secret Ling Wen is the most — no, the only one who gets anything done. They called her palace useless for years, but when it all came crumbling down everyone relied on her including the other civil gods.

What a joke. 

She’s exhausted, fatigued despite the infinite energy granted by godhood. The mountains of scrolls collecting dust in her halls, the steady stream of never ending prayers, every god’s merit credit accounting, all served as catalysts for the permanent dark circles under her eyes. Unlike every other god in heaven, she just really wanted a fucking nap. 

So she decided she would no longer be the one responsible for sorting these impulsive prayers that took up too much of her time. If the other gods want to remain relevant to their followers, then they will sort their own damn prayers for once!

Just one problem with delegating this task… The other gods barely knew the full extent of their own mythos much less anyone else’s and these mythos served as direction for where to send the unaddressed prayers. If someone impulsively called for water while their crops burned, mythos suggested Rain Master to be the most appropriate god to answer such prayer. Should someone cry out for help in the heat of battle, a martial or medical god would receive the prayer. 

These cases were obvious, but what of the less obvious ones? The ones which required extensive knowledge of all mythos? 

There was only one solution; an archive. 

However, considering how often mythos evolve, considering the rise and fall of new and old gods, the archive would need to be spelled so it could update itself without ever running out of room. It would need a sorting feature, perhaps by tabs with common themes or phrases…

Yes, this could work. It would require no small amount of magic and a miracle or two, but she possessed every book of spells ever written in her extensive library. 

Two months later, her hands sliced with papercuts and the bags under her eyes darker than ever, the book was finally ready. Simple, legible text filled the pages from cover to cover with cascading tabs labeling the start of each gods’ mythos. There were the most renowned tales of each god and lesser known fables only a village or two would have known. There were feats of strength and miraculous blessings remembered only by the mortals who witnessed the event. 

It also included any mythos that had never happened. Works of fiction, plays, and art. Anything and everything relating to the god or gods the work was about. 

It was perfect. It was extensively detailed. It left nothing out. 

Truly, no one was more competent than Ling Wen. They should all kiss her ass, but she would prefer they tackle the two months worth of unsorted unaddressed prayers while she rests. She more than earned it. 

And so, without any delay whatsoever, Ling Wen marched into the Hall of Divine Might where Emperor Pei Ming conducted the heaven’s monthly briefing. She dropped the stack of prayers and book at his feet with a less than respectful thunk. 

“Ling Wen?”

“I’m taking a nap. Fend for yourselves for an hour.”

Pei reached for the book and read the title aloud, “Mythos Of Our Own?”

She nodded once. “Everything you need to sort these prayers is in there. If you think you need me, no you don’t.”

With a bow and a huff, she walked from the hall and disappeared into her palace. For the first time since its erection, the palace gates were locked with Ling Wen inside. 

***

Pei Ming glanced at the mountain of prayers sitting in the middle of the hall. Honestly, it came as no surprise that Ling Wen finally forced the gods to fend for themselves. He’s just surprised it took her this long to professionally flip them all off. 

What did shock him was the never ending arrival of prayers. He instructed each god to take a handful, but for each handful they reluctantly selected, ten more handfuls took its place on the ever growing mountain. 

They quickly decided to throw the older prayers out. If a matter was truly that pressing or time sensitive, an addressed prayer with offerings would arrive at their temples. While a never ending stream of those prayers existed too, they were a river whereas these unaddressed ones became a bottomless ocean. 

Next, Pei instructed the vague prayers to be tossed out as well. Anything along the lines of “oh my god”, “heavens help me”, or his personal favorite “oh god, harder!” was cast aside. 

As a result, about half of the mountain remained. Damn, these mortals pray a lot when they don’t mean to. Ah well, they can sort things from here. 

Grumbling, protests, and frustrated glares passed between gods. There would always be more important, more enjoyable matters to tend to than sorting prayers that probably didn’t belong to themselves, but Pei refused to make the mistakes of the last emperor. They were no longer gods selfishly dumping their mundane tasks on anyone else, they were a team. Right now, a member of their team needed a well earned break.

It was only an hour, afterall. How bad could it be?

***

To Pei Ming’s absolute delight, it was very bad. Or very good depending on perspective. 

They sorted through the easiest prayers first, handing them off to the appropriate god, and left the more difficult ones for last. These difficult ones proved Mythos Of Our Own ’s usefulness immediately. How brilliant Ling Wen’s invention was!

Oh so brilliant. 

Pei Ming’s favorite book ever. He would have to read it cover to cover, provided his beloved southern martial counterparts didn’t set it on fire first. 

They wouldn’t, though. He wouldn’t allow them to destroy a truly miraculous , truly thorough collection of art. He’s also fairly certain Ling Wen would have considered the fragility and burnability of paper and imbued it with spells to prevent its destruction. Such a smart one, she is. He admires her endlessly. 

“Generals, one of our own spent a great deal of time and energy to gift us this book. If you destroy it, I will have no option but to demote you both back to junior officials.”

“That’s not a fucking book! It’s porn!” General Nan Yang’s shouts rang through the hall, earning a ripple of barely concealed snickers behind sleeves. 

Oh this was just too good, the most fun he’s had in years. “General, ‘fucking book’ and ‘porn’ are synonyms.” 

Nan Yang’s entire face burned the same crimson hue as Xuan Zhen’s red cape, and he suspected, most likely as red as Xuan Xhen’s face which was hidden behind his pale hands. Nan Yang shouted while his southern half remained quietly mortified. 

“That’s not the fucking point and you damn well know it!” 

“Ah, yes. But if I recall correctly, you are quite accustomed to the more erotic mythos associated with your godhood. Now that it features you and our pure, abstinent little Xuan Zhen who—” the southwestern god finally looked up with a glare that could massacre entire nations. 

Amazing, delightful, simply the most entertaining event to happen in the last four centuries. Pei was loving this all the more. 

“The good news is, clearly none of your followers believe you’re a virgin, Xuan Zhen. If you wish, you could finally worship Ju Yang without destroying your cultivation!”

He’s not sure who combusted from sheer embarrassment first. As it is, both southern gods ran from the hall in opposite directions and locked themselves in their respective palaces for the next month.

Yes, this book was his favorite of all time. Give Ling Wen the week off, she’s more than earned the break. 

***

“Mu Qing?”

Mu Qing nearly exploded out of his skin at the sound of Feng Xin’s voice in his personal array, the mortifying ordeal still dangling him on the edge. Of course the idiot would reach out following the most humiliating moment of their eight hundred year lives to talk it out. This is probably the cost of being “friends”.

He should have just let the volcano swallow him whole. Instead he sat in the comfort of his own palace, pacing across his study like a damn living fool.

“Mu Qing, come on. It’s not that bad right? It’s not like we— we’ve never—...fuck.”

Sure, they’ve never done anything remotely resembling the stories in the section of their mythos… and why did their mythos have to be combined under a single tab anyway?! Just because they share a region, spent eight hundred years together—

No! Not together! They’ve never been together! Will never be together! Together is absurd! 

Their mythos should be separated and the erotic fantasies of mortals should live only under Nan Yang’s tab without featuring any appearances of General Xuan Zhen! End of story. Good bye, the end! 

“Mu Qing! Answer, dammit! I know you can hear me!”

“Take a hint. Leave me alone, Feng Xin.”

“Come on , it’s not that bad. Pei had porn in his mythos too.”

Scoff. “Shocking. He said, and I quote, ‘Mm I remember her. Crazy, but that ass!’ Shameless.”

There was a brief pause followed by a dejected sigh. Mu Qing could almost see the weight bare down on Feng Xin. However, nothing could have prepared him for what came out of that idiot’s mouth next. 

“Is it really so shameful for people to think we’ve been together?”

Under no circumstance was he going to dignify that moronic question with an answer. It was ridiculous. Him and Feng Xin?! He would never be with that brute and his kind gold eyes that swirled like pools of honey when sunlight hit them just right, or his cheeks decorated with exactly 72 freckles, and certainly not with his oversized perfectly honed muscles from years of archery training…. 

….

“Mu Qing?” 

“Hm?” What were they talking about again? Something about Feng Xin’s freckles? 

“I asked if us being together would be shameful.” Oh right, that . “We don’t hate each other anymore and we do share a region. It’s natural mortals would allow their imagination to run wild and assume we’ve made up in more erm… romantic ways.”

“Of course you would think that, Ju Yang.”

“Hey!”

 “This entire problem is owed to Ju Yang. Those stories of us wouldn’t exist if not for your immense masculinity’s inspiration. Oh ‘Friend of women, a trusty companion—’”

“Shut it!”

“‘Ask for a son, most powerful is he—’”

“Goddamnit, Mu Qing! Knock it off!”

“‘The secret formula, to bolster masculinity, a son in your prayers, Nan Yang delivers!’”

A growl ripped through the array. “You’d be so lucky to get a son from me!”

Then he was gone. Mu Qing chuckled into the silence of his study. One little poem and suddenly he feels much better. It has nothing to do with the thrill of riling Feng Xin up, those days are behind them. 

Well, maybe it is a little fun to annoy him still. To hold his attention for a few moments and know it would continue to annoy Feng Xin well after they part. It’s all perfectly normal, friends tease each other right? 

A knock at the door interrupted his amusement, but his smirk remained as he reached for the door. His deputy stood on the other side with a prayer slip in his hand. The deputy’s cheeks burned and he failed to meet his General’s eye. 

“Sir, prayer just arrived.”

The slip shook in the deputy’s hand. Oh no… if this prayer had anything to do with those humiliating mythos, he’d go to the mortal realm himself and smite every last one of them. They had it coming. 

Mu Qing took the paper and read the contents. His heart stopped in his chest, color drained from his face. No wonder his deputy looked anxious, he feared his general’s reaction because of who prayed it. “Who— who else has seen this?”

“Just Emperor Pei. He delivered it from the unaddressed prayers sorting at the Hall of Divine Might. He said it was new… prayed within the last few minutes.”

“Last few…” Mu Qing’s head spun. This had to be a joke. A sick joke played by Pei Ming. The mythos weren’t enough and now he’s playing a trick on him. Yes, that must be it. It can’t possibly be—

“General, there is a stack of similar prayers inside the gate. The dates stretch back two months.”

Two months. When Ling Wen stopped sorting them. Were there others like this stretching back further? Who did she hand those off to? … Oh no, who the hell did she hand those off to?!

“Show me.” 

***

The “stack” as it turns out, was nothing short of a waist high pile. Urgency, or perhaps anxiety, forced his voice to come out squeaky as he ordered his deputies to transfer the prayers to his study without reading them. He might have threatened their positions if they read them, he can’t remember. His head swam in dizzying circles, but judging by their expressions, he probably did. 

He’ll apologize later by giving them the night off.

They truly looked terrified. Okay.. raises and bags of rice to send back to their impoverished families too. Their secret, as always.

Mu Qing took a steadying breath as the last armful of prayers disappeared into the study. The deputies appeared ready to split, but respectfully, reluctantly awaited their dismissal as was protocol. 

“Speak of this to no one. Take the night off. Visit your mothers. Dismissed.”

The deputies scurried, Mu Qing stepped in front of his study but hesitated stepping inside. If he goes in, he’ll have to read the prayers. If he read the prayers, he could never go back to a world where he hadn’t read them. If he can’t go back to a world where he hasn’t read the prayers, then he would have to live with the knowledge and…

How the hell is he supposed to live with this knowledge?! 

Another shaky inhale. He could handle this. He’s a martial god, isn’t he? Nothing can shake his resolve, least of all a stack of prayers. Prayers were part of the job, and besides, he’s received insane prayers before that can’t hold a candle against this! This was, by all means, completely normal. Very normal. It was so normal it was bordering on boring. 

Yes, very boring. He’ll just step into his study and complete the mind numbingly dull task of reading these prayers. 

One last steadying inhale for good measure, then Mu Qing stepped into the study, picked up a handful of prayers and sat at his desk. Time to get started… So why won’t his hands move? Why is his vision blurring? 

Shit, his hands are going numb. He can feel it starting. Beginning with his pinkies and crawling up his arms, the feeling of millions of bees buzzing under his skin quickly took over from hand to shoulder, from chest to head, from hips to knees. Breathing felt impossible, his lungs felt frozen, but his chest was heaving so rapidly. 

Oh god, he’s losing it. It’s not uncommon for any martial deity to occasionally feel this way after everything they’ve seen and done, but the one he would call for these moments can’t come here. Not with his prayers filling Mu Qing’s study. 

Feng Xin I’m having an attack.

He wants to call out. He hasn’t done this alone since resolving the rifts in their relationship and he doesn’t want to be alone now. But these damn prayers. 

The spinning in his head made him lightheaded. Time passed while he held his head in his hands. It was all he could do, moving wasn’t possible when he was like this.

Then, suddenly, there were hands on his shoulders. Steady hands. Strong hands. Those hands belonged to a voice, soothing and deep, and that voice instructed him to breathe. In for three, out for three. The voice told him to focus on the tapping while he breathed. 

In one… two… three. 

Oh. The hands are tapping his shoulders. First the right hand and then the left. Slow and rhythmic, gentle but distracting enough to ground him back in his body. It feels nice.

Out one… two… three.

Slowly his senses came back to him as the breathing and tapping repeated, the buzzing under his skin calmed, and his vision cleared enough to see the man in front of him. Feng Xin’s worried gold eyes shifted over his features, but a gentle reassuring smile pulled on his lips when Mu Qing finally looked up. 

“There you are.” So that’s who the voice belonged to. Mu Qing meant to ask him why he was here, but exhaustion suddenly swept through him unforgivingly. The hands on his shoulders lifted to his face and pushed back his hair. When did he take it down?

“Feng Xin…”

“Shh, it’s fine. Heard you in the array. Thought we agreed you would call before it becomes this intense.”

Those strong hands cupped his cheeks, holding his face while his eyes looked so soft at Mu Qing. It made his stomach do weird flips, his heartbeat quickened. Feng Xin’s been looking at him like this for a while now, but suddenly it took on new meaning. One he remained blissfully unaware of until now. 

“I couldn’t…” the presence of the prayers returned to him. Feng Xin can’t be here. Not now! Not while his prayers sat on the desk in front of them! “Feng Xin!”

Too late. Feng Xin’s gaze landed on the prayer once clenched in Mu Qing’s grasp before panic set in. The most recent prayer his deputy delivered. Those aureate eyes rounded, brows worried and his pulse raced as he read, Please, Mu Qing, don’t be ashamed. Please, let me love you.

***

Several weeks passed.

They didn’t talk about it. 

Of course they didn’t talk about it. 

Feng Xin pretended he didn’t know exactly what was written on every single one of those prayers, and Mu Qing pretended he didn’t read every last one after Feng Xin returned to his palace. They continued on with daily life as though everything were completely normal. As though Mu Qing didn’t know Feng Xin was in love with him. 

Now if only Mu Qing could stop glancing at him from the corner of his eye during meetings, missions, tea with Xie Lian, etc, that would be great. 

However, the damn idiot kept entering his peripherals. He should really talk to Emperor Pei about these assigned seats. Who cares if it makes sorting prayers easier if everyone sat in the same spot at every meeting? It’s not like the heavens will fall if he sits beside someone other than Feng Xin. 

Their situation isn’t helped when their smut filled mythos continues to remind Mu Qing of what they could be doing if he felt that way about Feng Xin. 

He didn’t feel that way though. It was unfortunate, really. Despite his history with Jian Lan indicating otherwise, Feng Xin would make a great husband, anyone with eyes could see that fact. He was loyal, he was doting, he was kind and attentive. Mu Qing saw it when they were just kids tending to their prince. Those qualities remained when Feng Xin taught his deputies or cared for his followers. 

Feng Xin was so sickeningly kind that it pissed Mu Qing off when he wasn’t on the receiving end. But he didn’t feel romantic feelings for Feng Xin. He wished he did, Feng Xin was a catch, but Mu Qing didn’t feel those feelings for anyone including Feng Xin.

“Mu Qing?”

Xie Lian looked at him. Oh right, he was having tea at Puqi Shrine, sitting at a table Hua Cheng built just for Xie Lian. Spacing out was all too common lately. Perhaps it’s a side effect of spending too much time with Feng Xin. 

“Yes?”

Xie Lian looked at him with an amused but polite grin. “How are things with Feng Xin lately?”

“You heard about the mythos.”

It wasn’t a question. Everyone in and out of heaven knew of the fables now termed FengQing Mythos .

“Yes, but they don’t mean anything unless you want them to mean something. Do they mean anything, Mu Qing?”

“Of course they don’t mean anything! Why would you think they do?”

”No reason!” Xie Lian waved his hands in surrender. “Our cultivation path requires dismissing many normal feelings and suppressing the feelings we can’t dismiss. As a result, it took me a little while to figure out how I felt about San Lang.”

The contents of the teacup in front of Mu Qing bubbled despite no longer boiling. Xie Lian had a better chance of learning to make a proper cup of tea than Mu Qing had in feeling anything for Feng Xin.

“I don’t feel that way about Feng Xin, Dianxia.”

“Who said I was talking about you? Maybe I just want to talk about myself.” 

Mu Qing glanced up from his strangely bubbling teacup with a disbelieving perfectly arched brow.

“Just think about it, Mu Qing. Please?”

Think about it? He couldn’t stop thinking about it! Feng Xin loves him? Why?! Millions of people walked the earth and the heavens, yet Feng Xin chose the one man he spent eight hundred years hating! It’s foolish. It’s idiotic. It’s—

“It’s not normal to know how many freckles your friend has, is it?”

Xie Lian’s brows shot up before he quickly schooled his expression. “How many does Feng Xin have?”

“72.”

“They’re nice, yes?”

Nice? Tan skin and freckles might not be pale blemish free jade but, “They’re not bad.”

He adores them, waits for them to darken in the summer so he can count them. They’re better than a jade complexion. 

“I see. And how many freckles do I have? Or Pei Ming? Quan Yizhen has some, do you count his?”

…. “No. Why would I count theirs? And you don’t have any.”

Xie Lian leaned forward slightly. “You sure?”

They were faint. Barely noticeable unless you knew they were there, but a smattering of freckles lay hidden atop his cheeks. No doubt owed to the centuries he spent working under the sun in exchange for scraps and petty coin. 

A pale hand with barely there freckles rested on Mu Qing’s. Xie Lian squeezed reassuringly. 

“It doesn’t mean anything unless you want it to mean something. Do you want it to mean something, Mu Qing?”

“I don’t—“ he doesn’t? Then why did he have a panic attack when he read Feng Xin’s prayer? Why did he feel relief when Feng Xin comforted him? If it meant nothing, why had he been carrying Feng Xin’s prayer in his sleeve ever since receiving it?

Suddenly dots began connecting, illogical behaviors finally had a very logical meaning. Pushed aside feelings sprung back into view, determined to never be ignored again. 

“I need to talk to Feng Xin. Excuse me, Dianxia.” 

***

The Palace of Nan Yang. Golden. Gawdy. It was detrimentally so Feng Xin. Mu Qing hated it. 

He hated the way ostentatious tiles echoed the clicks of his heels, announcing his presence long before he arrived at his destination. He hated the way the door to the study was painted with heroic acts of General Nan Yang; they didn’t depict his freckles. 

The study was just as obnoxious as the rest of the palace. Shelves showcased a collection of assorted junk collected from the mortal realm. He never asked their meaning, but he’s certain they’re sentimental like the damn sap who sat behind his desk, writing in a scroll.

“What’re you doing here—?” 

Feng Xin started to ask, but Mu Qing pulled the prayer from his sleeve and set it on the desk, silencing him instantly. 

“What does it mean, Feng Xin?”

Straight to the point. They avoided this long enough. He needed to hear it from Feng Xin’s mouth, not his prayers. 

The Southeastern god read the lines then pushed it toward Mu Qing. Dismissive, he resumed writing in the scroll. 

“Looks like someone wants you to love them.”

“Someone?” Mu Qing sat at the desk, across from Feng Xin. 

“It usually takes someone to pray, dumbass.” 

So this is how he wanted to play it. Pretend he wasn’t the one who prayed the mound of prayers still strewn across Mu Qing’s study. Fine. He could dance this tango. 

“Only two someones address me by my real name these days.”

Feng Xin still didn’t look up from his scroll, concentrating much too hard for someone writing nonsensical gibberish. Thousands of symbols in their writing system and Feng Xin couldn’t string together two that made sense.

“Well then I suppose you will have to expect a jealous Hua Cheng in your near future.”

“Suppose you’re right. Suppose that’s why Xie Lian insisted we have tea this afternoon while Hua Cheng visited Ghost City.”

Feng Xin didn’t need to know Mu Qing was the one who timed his visit for when Hua Cheng was in Ghost City. 

“Makes a few weird moments make sense.”

The brush paused but Feng Xin didn’t look up. “Weird how?”

“Well, he kept asking if I have feelings for someone. Figured he meant you considering our mythos problem, but maybe he asked for himself?”

Snort. “Don't be ridiculous. Dianxia wouldn’t ask anything for himself.”

“Hmm, surprisingly, you make a good point. Color me shocked.”

Take the bait, Feng Xin. It’s dangling there, just take it. 

“Do… do you have feelings for someone?”

Feng Xin’s gaze hesitantly lifted. Got him. 

“What if I do?” There it was, a glimmer of hope in aureate eyes. “How is it your business?”

“It’s not! Kill a man for being curious.”

Mu Qing picked up the prayer and flipped it over a few times. Feng Xin watched it like it was delicate, more precious than gold. Like a single tear in the paper would rip him to shreds. 

“I do. At least, I think I do. It’s hard to be certain when I’ve spent eight hundred years squashing romantic interest and desire.”

“Desire?”

The chuckle Mu Qing forced himself to swallow nearly escaped. Of course Feng Xin would hone in on the ‘desire’ part. It wasn’t a lie, though. Feng Xin was desirable. 

Hadn’t Mu Qing known that all along? Isn’t that why he sought out Feng Xin’s attention, picked on him, teased him relentlessly? Isn’t that why he was jealous when everyone else received Feng Xin’s kindness, but he received Feng Xin’s disdain? 

Things weren’t what they used to be, they were years past their trauma and loathing. He was no longer the object of Feng Xin’s ire. He experienced his kindness first hand. And damn it all if he didn’t want to keep experiencing it.

He wanted Feng Xin to spoil him. He wanted to spoil Feng Xin, too. He wanted to see those freckles up close and not because of a grappling spar. 

Knowing he wanted these things didn’t make it any easier to accept he felt for Feng Xin. He would have missed it completely if Xie Lian didn’t encourage him to look closely at his own feelings. But once he did, eight hundred years of missed realizations struck him all at once. 

Funny, he didn’t feel anxious about any of it. 

“Yes, desire. Maybe I’ve been reading too much porn lately.”

A snort. “Maybe.”

“Must be nice for you, though.”

Feng Xin’s brows pinched. “Why is that?”

“Considering we have discovered porn in everyone’s mythos now, must feel nice to not be the only one with a Ju Yang sized problem.”

Another snort that dissolved into a laugh and oh , Feng Xin has such a lovely laugh. 

“You’re such an ass.”

“Some things will never change, Feng Xin.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Mu Qing placed his elbow on the desk and rested his chin in his palm. His silver eyes clouded as he considered too much. Luckily, Feng Xin knew now when Mu Qing was losing himself in his overthinking habit and tapped him on the nose with the wooden end of his ink brush.

“What are you thinking?”

The prayer turned over between his fingers again. “Why would ‘someone’ love me when they hated me for most of our lives?”

“Maybe…” Feng Xin set down his brush when it started to shake. “Because they never really hated you. Did— did you truly hate them?”

“No.” No hesitation. That was the truth. It wasn’t a new revelation by any means. “Always wanted him to like me…Even if he’s an idiot.”

“Hey!” 

“What are you getting offended for? This isn’t about you, it’s about ‘someone’.”

“Er- right. Right…”

A knock sounded at the door to which Feng Xin called out a stoic “come in”. Mu Qing knew it was coming, though. Knew what was written on the folded prayer slip as the deputy shot him a glance before handing it to General Nan Yang. 

“Thank you. Dismissed.”

The deputy curiously glanced at Mu Qing again but scrambled when he met a sinister smiling expression that threatened life and limb if he lingered much longer. 

“Don't you have your own deputies to terrorize?” 

“My deputies know better than to interrupt my visitors.” 

“Exactly. Because you terrorize them.”

He didn’t. They both knew that, but he didn’t put up with any sense of impropriety either. They were here under his name and he’d be damned if he allowed them to tarnish it.

His eyes flicked to the prayer. “Are you going to read it?”

“You bit my head off last century when I read a prayer during mission prep. So no. If you’re curious of its contents, then suffer in silence.”

Oh he’s suffering alright. He doesn’t remember biting Feng Xin’s head off, but it sounds like something he would do. Especially if he was trying to dominate his attention at the time. Right now, he just really needed Feng Xin to read the paper and—

Why is he setting it aside?! Read the damn prayer, Feng Xin!

And now he’s picking up his brush again. For gods sakes… what is he talking about, he is a god! For his sake, read the fucking prayer!

“Burn holes in my head all you want, I’m not reading it until you leave.”

Mu Qing’s going to kill him. That's the only logical course of action here. He can’t just walk out and wait for Feng Xin to—

Oh wait. Yes. He can do that. He will do that. Not without expressing his frustration first, though. 

“Idiot.” 

He stood with a hmph, walked through the door, turned to close it then decided ‘fuck that guy he can get up to close it himself!’ So he flipped off Feng Xin from the open doorway and marched to his own palace. 

Feng Xin laughed raucously. Getting under Mu Qing’s skin was too easy sometimes, and he wanted under it all the time. 

Still chuckling, he reached for the prayer and unfolded it. Immediately his laugh died. His heart lurched. The world stopped spinning as he read the line over and over and over, confirming his brain wasn’t playing tricks on him. 

General Nan Yang, inform Feng Xin his prayers are granted.

Only two people called him Feng Xin these days. He’s knows he won’t be receiving a jealous Hua Cheng anytime.

***

Mu Qing walked along the short path from Feng Xin’s palace to his own. The cobbled stone beneath his feet formed intricate swirls which flowed from one swirl to the next like infinite ocean waves, no doubt the work of the art gods. 

He knew this path well. Knew the swirls by memory and counted the fifty-seven dizzying patterns stretched between their palaces. They were stunning, beautiful, the quality of artistry he would expect of a god’s handiwork. Right now he might be observing them more than usual. 

His slower than normal pace had nothing to do with the prayer delivered to Feng Xin. He certainly wasn’t waiting for Feng Xin to appear behind him, prayer in hand. Not at all. 

Eh, who is he kidding? Of course he was dragging his feet, waiting for Feng Xin to run out his palace, prayer in hand. 

Fast paced steps sounded behind him and Feng Xin’s voice boomed from the gate’s of Nan Yang Palace. 

“Mu Qing!”

Mu Qing glanced over his shoulder, he was standing exactly halfway between the two palaces. Finally. Took the idiot long enough to come out. 

He smirked. Then he smirked harder, more devilishly with a mischievous glint in his silver eyes. 

The southwestern god turned and took off for his palace with a grin splitting his face. Shouts of his name sounded behind him. While those shouts once indicated someone’s palace would soon be destroyed, he hoped this time Feng Xin would destroy him instead. 

He’ll have to thank the mythos writers one day for saving him from demolishing his cultivation. 

***

Epilogue:

Pei Ming sat Mythos Of Our Own on Ling Wen’s desk with a hefty thump then sat sideways on the edge. 

“You finished reading already?” Ling Wen’s brow arched. 

“What can I say, you do fine work. Impressively thorough.”

“Mm and it had nothing to do with the spicier mythos under the citrus scale sections?”

Pei leaned toward her with a knowing smirk. “Ling Wen, you know me too well. Of course it did.”

”I see.” She reached for the book but paused and looked at Pei with that same arched brow. “Care to explain why the Southern General’s tab is doubled in size?”

An amused chuckle sounded from Ole Pei. “You know how much I have shipped those two ever since that first impulsive prayer arrived at this old Love God’s palace. So what if I commissioned a few new works?”

“A few?”

His hands clasped over his heart, feigning heartbreak. “You wound me, do I look like someone who would commission more than a few smuttier mythos of our favorite southern generals?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation. No second thought. 

Pei chuckled again and nodded. “You’re right. Forgive me, what’s an old love god to do when it comes to idiots in love such as them.”