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Ming Yi wipes the sweat off his brow and stands back to admire his work. In front of him, the neatly tilled fields cast shadows onto the ground in the setting sun, and between each row of crops is a shallow moat of water redirected from a nearby river.
He spent the better part of the afternoon helping one of the Rain Master’s followers after they left an urgent prayer to save their dying crops. Lady Rain Master had promised a handsome reward for Ming Yi’s work, and heaven and hell knows He Xuan is in desperate need of merits to pay back his debt. Talking with the old farmer who sent the prayer revealed that he was simply too weary to properly tend to his fields anymore. His only son left home to make him proud and seek an education in one of the next town over a few weeks back, and his wife had passed away the previous winter, leaving the old man the sole carer of his family’s barley crop.
His story was enough to touch even He Xuan’s cold, dead heart.
It took only one look at the withering rows of barley and Ming Yi deduced that the crops were not only being watered far too little, but also under attack from aphids. Though those were nothing the Earth Master, his shovel, and a natural pesticide made from water and tomato leaves couldn’t handle.
“And who do we have to thank for the young master’s kindness?” the old farmer asks, putting his hands together and bowing gratefully to Ming Yi.
Ming Yi grabs the other man’s bicep before he can bend forward too much. All he did was some minor physical labor- hardly anything for the old farmer to throw his back out over. “This one is but a simple servant of the Earth Master,” Ming Yi replies, dodging around his assumed identity. It wouldn’t do to let a mortal know of his heavenly status. “Please direct your gratitude toward him and Lady Rain Master.”
“Then I shall light some incense for them tonight,” the old farmer smiles, crow’s feet wrinkling in the corners of his eyes and lighting up his weathered face.
Ming Yi doesn’t smile back, but his expression softens ever so slightly.
“And the young master with you? Who’s heavenly palace does he come from?” the old farmer inquires, casting a glance over Ming Yi’s shoulder.
Ah…
Ming Yi turns with a sigh, finally remembering that he did indeed bring along his eternally unhelpful partner. Only because Shi Qingxuan would whine if Ming Yi left him alone. Shi Qingxuan used to give excuses for why he couldn’t spend even a second on his own: his brother might decide to stop terrorizing sailors long enough to nag him relentlessly, Ming Guang or Ling Wen Zhen Jun could stop by his temple and initiate awkward small talk in Shi Wudu’s absence, Jun Wu may hold an impromptu meeting with the other heavenly officials and Shi Qingxuan would have to stand beside someone other than Ming Yi. Eventually, Shi Qingxuan only explained his stickiness with, But I’ll miss you, Ming-xiong!
It’s pathetic, really. Ming Yi puts up with it for the sake of his ‘best friend’ act, but He Xuan spends every second with the other loathing Shi Qingxuan’s presence.
Shi Qingxuan is about as useful as a bump on a log. After not even half a shichen, he stopped hovering around Ming Yi and kicking rocks while pretending he wanted to help. Instead, Shi Qingxuan spent the entire afternoon surrounded by the local village children. They were nervous around him at first, all whispers and wary looks for the strange newcomer with an unusually bright smile, but all it took for the kids to warm up to him was the handful of fresh clementines he produced from one sleeve and peeled for them to eat.
They’re gathered around him even now, watching in wonder as Shi Qingxuan crouches before them and summons a small whirlwind in his open palm. Leaves and dust swirl in the air, and the children ooh and aah and clap their grubby hands in glee.
“If I become a cultivator like gege,” a little girl with dirt smeared across one cheek asks, tugging on Shi Qingxuan’s sleeve, “will I be able to make tornadoes, too?”
Shi Qingxuan grins down at her. “Only if you practice every day! Cultivation takes lots of hard work!”
Ming Yi’s facade slips as He Xuan clenches his hands into tight fists by his side. As if Shi Qingxuan knew anything about hard work. Everything he’s ever had has been handed down to him on a silver platter. The hardest thing Shi Qingxuan has ever had to do was scrape his knees when he groveled on the ground for his brother’s forgiveness, or fix his smudged makeup from when he wept pitiful tears over insignificant troubles.
He Xuan’s fingernails carve deep crescents into his palms. His shoulders shake with barely restrained anger.
It’s only for a moment, before Ming Yi returns as unbothered as ever.
“Qingxuan,” Ming Yi calls out. “Let’s go.”
“Ah, there’s my cue to leave,” Shi Qingxuan sighs. He digs out one last clementine for his new friends and gives it to the little girl. “Make sure everyone gets a piece, okay?” She nods, pushing a chubby thumb into the center of the fruit and beginning to peel away the skin. Shi Qingxuan waits for her to start handing out orange slices before he makes his way back to Ming Yi’s side.
Ming Yi dips his head in the old farmer’s direction, grabs Shi Qingxuan not-so-gently by his arm, and drags him off.
“Ow, ow!” Shi Qingxuan complains, stumbling over his feet as he tries to keep up with Ming Yi’s longer stride. “Ming-xiong! Too rough! Too rough!”
When they’re a good distance away from the group of mortals, Ming Yi finally releases Shi Qingxuan. “What happened to hiding who we are from humans?” he hisses. His face is only a breath away from Shi Qingxuan’s, close enough that their noses are about to brush, but the other man doesn’t recoil.
“I did!” he argues. Shi Qingxuan rubs at his sore bicep, pouting. “I changed into uglier robes, didn’t wear a fancy hair pin… All of that, just like you said.”
Ming Yi gestures vaguely in the direction they just came from. “The trick with the mortal children?”
Shi Qingxuan waves off his concern quite literally, flapping one hand in the air nonchalantly. “Any cultivator worth their salt can do that.”
Ming Yi snatches the Wind Master Fan hanging from Shi Qingxuan’s (admittedly plain) belt and thrusts it in his face. “And this? Not even concealed from plain sight?”
“Oh! I almost forgot I brought that!” Shi Qingxuan takes his fan back and opens it with a flick of his wrist. He raises it until it covers his face just to the bottom of his eyes. “Thanks for reminding me, Ming-xiong!” He flutters his fan playfully and gives Ming Yi a wink.
Oh. He Xuan wants to wrap his hands around that pretty jade throat and squeeze.
Instead, Ming Yi whips around and starts to march away, letting all of He Xuan’s rage out inside his head. Incompetent. Imbecile. Of course Shi Qingxuan had to have his ascension to godhood stolen for him, because no one so stupid would be able to become a heavenly official otherwise.
“Ah! Ming-xiong! Wait for me!” Ming Yi does not wait. Let Shi Qingxuan scramble after him like the sorry fool he is.
Neither of them notice dark clouds starting to gather overhead, nor the breeze beginning to pick up around them.
🍃🍃🍃
On their way back to the inn they’re staying at, Ming Yi suggests taking a detour. Just long enough for him to go through the prayers he’s received from this part of the country. Shi Qingxuan agrees with only minor complaints, eager to get back to their room where he can drink the night away, but not eager enough to start an argument.
The weather is also starting to look a bit nasty: dark grey skies, strong winds whistling through the trees. Shi Qingxuan eyes the mass of clouds overhead every now and then.
Truthfully, there’s few prayers for the Earth Master to answer, and most of them are only minor blessings and requests for successful building projects. Nothing that Ming Yi’s underlings in the Lower Court couldn’t handle. He’d long since ridded his palace of the useless heavenly officials, leaving behind only those he deemed trustworthy- or, well, as trustworthy as a heavenly official could possibly be. They could easily pick up his slack.
In reality, there’s been a persistent presence nipping the back of his mind for the past incense time, and Ming Yi couldn’t possibly ignore it any longer. Specifically, it’s a pest in the form of a red clad, eyepatch wearing asshole.
“I won’t be long,” Ming Yi promises Shi Qingxuan, then quickly ducks inside his temple and leaves the other man to do… whatever it is exactly that Shi Qingxuan does when left on his own. It’s not like Ming Yi spends enough time away from Shi Qingxuan to know. Something that’s a waste of time, he’s sure. Lounging around like a house cat with a belly full of cream, probably. Or finding someone else to bother.
It’s a small temple fitting for a small village: half the size of Ming Yi’s room in the heavens, with columns built of stone ridden with hairline cracks and broken off chips giving away the state of disrepair. His divine statue is nothing to write home about either: its features worn down from time and weather until its only identifier is the shovel in its hands. Half-burnt incense sticks and stale steamed buns litter the altar in front of his statue.
He Xuan spent two years in prison, and even longer weathering the elements on the beach of Black Water Island while his manor was under construction. For now, this little temple will do.
He kneels on the faded cushion in front of his altar and closes his eyes. Finally, He Xuan opens up his private communication array.
What, He Xuan snaps to the other ghost king, could you possibly need so urgently.
«It’s about time you acknowledged me,» Crimson Rain’s grating voice greets him in his mind, as obnoxious and arrogant as ever. «I was worried I might need to make an appearance.»
He Xuan clenches Ming Yi’s hands into tight fists in his lap. You know I am in the vicinity of another heavenly official. You are compromising my position right now, Crimson Rain. As clueless as Shi Qingxuan might be, surely even he would eventually notice Ming Yi is spending too long answering prayers for such a tiny village. What do you need, he repeats, letting his impatience seep into his inner voice.
Crimson Rain only snorts at his displeasure. «Please. As if any of them would ever pull their head out of their ass long enough to notice you.» He pauses just long enough for He Xuan’s skin to begin to itch restlessly before finally continuing. «Did you find anything?»
Ah, yes. Of course. As if Crimson Rain would ever bother him about anything other than his object of obsession. Admittedly, finding the Crown Prince was part of why Ming Yi agreed to carry out the Rain Master’s duties. Crimson Rain needed eyes on this part of the country in the search for his beloved, and He Xuan was forced to help him.
I spoke to the townspeople, and they’ve received no news of anyone by the name of Xie Lian- He Xuan can feel Crimson Rain prickle in his mind. My apologies, no news of His Highness, he corrects himself. He isn’t about to make the mistake of calling the Crown Prince by his name to his lunatic colleague again, even if it’s been hundreds of years since he held any position of status. I did get word of a group of rogue cultivators traveling together.
«Not him, he wouldn’t travel with others.»
He Xuan exhales a sigh through his nose. He could be using a different name, he suggests, not for the first time. As if Crimson Rain ever listens to anything he says. Or, He Xuan dares to venture, he may not want to be found-
«If I am ever in need of your scholarly opinion, Black Water,» Crimson Rain interrupts, a dangerous edge to his voice. «I will be sure to let you know.»
He Xuan grits his teeth. He reminds himself he’s in no position to challenge Crimson Rain. Not unless he wants a cursed scimitar through his chest. I have nothing to report, then. Crimson Rain makes a sound of acknowledgement and nothing more. Don’t you have an assistant to do your dirty work for you now?
«He’s still learning the ropes, and he’s still shaken up from almost murdering a heavenly official.»
Tell him to leave the god-murdering to you next time. Crimson Rain snorts at that, and He Xuan relaxes now that the imminent threat of the ghost king’s anger has passed.
Distantly, somewhere in the far corners of his awareness, he hears the first spatter of raindrops against the roof of the temple.
«How’s the revenge plot going?» Crimson Rain prods, as casually as one would inquiry about the weather over a cup of tea. By now, it’s become passing conversation to the two of them. «Any updates? I’m eagerly awaiting a front row seat to their demise.»
I have the younger brother’s full trust. It’s only a matter of time.
«Isn’t that the same thing you said last time? And the time before that, and the time before that.» A pause. «Don’t tell me you’re growing fond of him.»
The thought of feeling anything but resentment towards either of the Shi brothers leaves a foul taste in his mouth. Disgusting.
To let Shi Qingxuan weasel his way into He Xuan’s dead heart would be the greatest betrayal to his family.
But…
It isn’t quite the same, is it? For Ming Yi to indulge in Shi Qingxuan’s every whim. For Ming Yi to grow used to Shi Qingxuan’s constant presence. For Ming Yi to allow Shi Qingxuan to go from acquainted heavenly official to beloved companion. It’s just the sacrifice He Xuan needs to make while he’s playing the role of the Earth Master.
He Xuan isn’t Shi Qingxuan’s best friend, Ming Yi is.
It’s different.
«Hmm.» There’s a hint of amusement in his hum- no, it’s disbelief. He Xuan grits his teeth until his jaw starts to ache, but he will not let Crimson Rain get to him. Let him think whatever he’d like, make whatever jokes he wants. He Xuan is sure of his own intentions.
The rain starts to pick up, going from light trickling against the rooftop to heavy pounding overhead. It’s raining hard enough for raindrops to blow in the temple and start dampening the edges of Ming Yi’s robes. And then for a moment, the sound of rain hitting the ground is completely muffled by a clap of thunder. It’s enough to tear part of He Xuan’s attention away from his communication array.
Where exactly is Shi Qingxuan? He should have been back by now.
«You say that, but you’re thinking about him now, aren’t you-»
Quiet. He doesn’t care about Shi Qingxuan. He Xuan just… needs him alive, is all. It won’t do him any good if something happens to Shi Qingxuan before He Xuan can have his proper revenge. That, and he’s quite sure that if he were to return to the heavens without the leech attached to him, the Water Master and his lackeys would wring his neck.
Light flashes behind He Xuan’s eyes, and looks up in time to watch lightning snake from the sky and strike the ground only a lǐ away. Thunder rolls in right behind it, but it’s drowned out by someone screaming.
It’s a sound he had been sure would only ever be inflicted by himself.
It’s been a long time since He Xuan’s heart beat, but now, he feels ice crawl through his veins.
“Qingxuan!” Ming Yi shouts over the rain. Crimson Rain tries to get one last word in before He Xuan shuts down the communication array, but He Xuan is hardly listening. He scrambles to his feet and darts to the door to the temple.
He Xuan’s mind races with possibilities, each one worse than the last. All he knows is that the right to kill Shi Qingxuan is reserved only for him. Rage turns his vision red as he looks back and forth for his companion.
Shi Qingxuan is his. His to have, his to hurt. No one else can have him.
“Shi Qingxuan!” He Xuan, not Ming Yi, roars over the thunder.
“Ming-xiong!”
Ming Yi has just enough time to open his arms before the full force of Shi Qingxuan comes crashing into his chest. It’s enough to make him stumble back a few steps, barely catching his balance before they both tumble to the ground. Shi Qingxuan grips him tight around his waist and buries his face in the front of his robes. Ming Yi pushes him back by his shoulders until Shi Qingxuan lifts his head and meets his gaze with watery eyes.
Soaking wet and looking even more pathetic than usual, but he seems no worse for wear- no visible injuries on his body. Ming Yi takes Shi Qingxuan by one wrist just to be sure. His meridians are clear, and qi flows freely as ever throughout his veins.
As soon as Ming Yi lets go of Shi Qingxuan’s wrist, his arm is wrapped around him once more. For once, He Xuan is thankful he’s dead, otherwise Shi Qingxuan would be squeezing the air out of his lungs.
“Where have you been?” Ming Yi demands. He tries to pry Shi Qingxuan off of him again, but this time he won’t budge. “What happened to you?”
Shi Qingxuan shakes his head quickly. “I’m fine, Ming-xiong. Just fine.” It’s hard to believe him when he’s getting the front of Ming Yi’s robes wet from snot and tears. Ming Yi can’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. “I just… missed you, hahaha.”
Ming Yi still has his arms raised awkwardly by his sides. Stiffly, he puts a hand on Shi Qingxuan’s back and pats him lamely in reassurance, letting his other hand fall back to his thigh. “I’ve been here the whole time,” he points out. Has their friendship really reached a point where Shi Qingxun can’t bear to be alone for more than a few moments at a time?
(He Xuan resolutely does not pay attention to the relief washing over him now that he knows Shi Qingxuan is alright. It’s Ming Yi’s relief, knowing his friend is fine, and it’s He Xuan’s relief, knowing Shi Qingxuan is still his to destroy.)
He opens his mouth to berate Shi Qingxuan for being so damn clingy, but Ming Yi doesn’t get the chance. Lightning crackles in the distance, followed swiftly by the boom of thunder. With Shi Qingxuan pressed up against him, it’s impossible to miss how the other man flinches bodily in response to the weather.
Realization dawns about Ming Yi. “You’re scared of storms,” he observes aloud.
How exactly has he never noticed? They’ve been companions for hundreds of years now, but somehow never experienced a thunderstorm together? But when Ming Yi reflects on it for the first time, he can’t think of a time when they were on earth during bad weather. Typically, Shi Qingxuan only wants to romp around on clear days when the sun shines high and the grass is green underfoot. Ming Yi always thought it was because Shi Qingxuan wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfect, be it his outfits, his liquor, or the weather.
Never did he expect that the Wind Master himself could be scared of storms. How ironic.
Shi Qingxuan peeks up at Ming Yi through his damp bangs, eyes wide with… fear? When Ming Yi stays quiet, waiting for an answer, Shi Qingxuan relaxes ever so slightly. “Ahaha, It’s silly, isn’t it?” he asks softly, his nervous laughter and shameful admission barely audible over the howling wind. “I can create sandstorms that bury entire towns, tornadoes that level a city, gale force winds that bend trees, but a little thunder and lightning is what gets me.”
It is silly, but Ming Yi doesn’t voice that. The moments where Shi Qingxuan is as vulnerable as this are few and far between, but they’ve weathered through them together enough times that Ming Yi is aware of his friend’s needs. Bullying him will only make him shut down that much more.
“Why?” Ming Yi asks instead. He reaches up and peels away a wet strand of hair that’s plastered itself across Shi Qingxuan’s face, tucking it back with the rest of his damp waves. “Does the Rain Master have it out for you? The Thunder Master?”
Shi Qingxuan frowns. “No, it’s not because of either of them.” Ming Yi figured as much. There are few heavenly officials that truly dislike Shi Qingxuan. After all, he makes it difficult to hate him.
Another clap of thunder has Ming Yi looking back outside. His temple is small, but so far it’s withstanding the weather. In the back of his mind, he praises the Earth Master’s followers for being such capable builders.
Suddenly, the body holding him tight changes. The head hunched over and tucked against his chest is a few inches shorter, fitting neatly under Ming Yi’s chin. The lithe chest pressed against his grows fuller and softer.
Ming Yi stares down at Shi Qingxuan- Lady Wind Master, now, not Lord- incredulously. “Really? Right now?”
She smiles back up at him sheepishly. “Isn’t it easier to hold me like this, Ming-xiong?” Shi Qingxuan asks. “When I’m littler and cuter? It is, isn’t it? Don’t you think?”
He wants to argue, but with the way Shi Qingxuan manages to curl herself even tighter into Ming Yi’s embrace, he thinks he understands her reasoning. She’s trying to make herself as small as possible, like it might help tuck her away from the storm. Safe and sound, stowed away in her best friend’s arms. Like this, she’s a stark reminder of He Xuan’s meimei when she was a young girl, always crying and sniveling for her older brother to comfort her.
Ming Yi can’t help but sigh. “You’re shivering,” he says, and Shi Qingxuan forces herself to still against him. Of course she’s shivering. Even with the new form, her robes are soaking wet.
He manages to wrestle out of Shi Qingxuan’s grasp long enough to untie his sash, shrug off his outermost robe, and drape it around her shoulders. Shi Qingxuan nestles herself in his robe, tugging the two sides of it together in front of her until black silk completely obscures her typical white and teal clothes.
She starts to smash herself back against Ming Yi, but he stops her with a hand to her forehead. “Let’s get away from the door,” he suggests. Even if the temple is small, the least they can do is move towards the center of the room where the rain won’t hit them and the wind isn’t so strong.
“Ming-xiong is as smart as ever,” Shi Qingxuan says shamelessly.
They end up sitting on the ground with their backs leaned against Ming Yi’s divine statue. Shi Qingxuan leans against his side with her head on his shoulder, and Ming Yi loops his arms around her and keeps her tucked against him.
(Just to keep her placated, He Xuan reasons to himself. Shi Qingxuan will only be more annoying the needier she gets.)
When lightning flashes in the distance this time, Shi Qingxuan only watches it warily.
Ming Yi doesn’t ask for an explanation, but Shi Qingxuan starts to give him one anyway. “When Ge and I were younger, we were…” She hesitates as she searches for the right way to phrase it, and somehow, Ming Yi knows her next words will be about the Reverend of Empty Words. Shi Qingxuan has told Ming Yi about her past many times, but always tries to skirt around the only thing that truly draws the two of them together. Funny. “We were very unlucky,” Shi Qingxuan says carefully. “Misfortune followed us wherever we went.”
She inches impossibly closer to Ming Yi until her nose presses against his neck. When she sighs, he feels the soft puff of air against his skin. “You remember we were on our own for a while, right?” Shi Qingxuan asks. Only when Ming Yi nods does she continue. “One day, lightning struck the hut we were living in, and it set part of the roof on fire. It collapsed on top of us, but Ge covered me with his body before it could hurt me.”
Shi Qingxuan pauses to sniffle and wipe at her nose with the collar of Ming Yi’s robe. He bites back a complaint about her dirtying his clothes. He’ll just make one of the lower officials wash it especially well when they get back to heaven. “It was so scary. His clothes caught on fire, and I thought he was going to die.”
“But he didn’t,” Ming Yi points out.
“He didn’t,” Shi Qingxuan agrees, missing the regret tinging her friend’s voice. “He was burned really badly for a while. I had to put a special salve on his skin a few times a day so he’d heal. Eventually, of course, he got better.” She turns her head and leans her forehead against Ming Yi’s neck. “But I still remember being pinned underneath him and the fallen roof. I remember seeing his body ablaze, even if it was only for a few moments.”
Lightning strikes and illuminates the world in a flash of bright light for an instant. Ming Yi thinks of Shi Qingxuan, terrified as she was pinned to the ground underneath her brother with a storm raging on around her. It’s almost enough to earn her some of his pity.
Almost.
“Even though it’s been years, and even though Ge tells me it’s stupid to be scared, I can’t help but worry.” Shi Qingxuan takes her head away from Ming Yi. He turns to look at her, and she gives him a smile- one of her genuine ones, without the playfulness or the obnoxious laughter in her eyes. One that, over time, he’s learned is reserved only for him. “But I don’t have to worry about it anymore, do I?” she asks.
“Why is that?” Ming Yi replies.
Her smile only widens, until her nose wrinkles and her eyes curve into twin crescents. “Because I have you to look after me.” Shi Qingxuan presses a chaste kiss to Ming Yi’s cheek. It’s only a brush of her lips against his skin, quick enough that Ming Yi almost questions if it really happened, but he can still feel the slick of her lipstick even as she lays her head back on his shoulder. “You’d never let anything hurt me.”
Ming Yi presses his cheek to the crown of her head.
He Xuan thinks, for the first time, how hard it will be to kill her when the time comes.