#Feng Xin is definitely not going to let LQQ kill XL

[iztarshi]

So I left some tags on a post @feng-xin wrote wondering what would have happened if Xie Lian had called out for Feng Xin at some point during his banishment after Feng Xin was a god and could potentially hear. Then I thought some more about that and started writing it.

But since I’m not sure where I’m going with it I want to post what I’ve got here.

*

Xie Lian slips into the shrine out of the rain and glances around quickly. It’s a small shrine, out of the way, and it doesn’t seem to have attendants so he relaxes and moves on to wringing out his hair. It’s a shame he doesn’t have his hat, but he’d stashed it somewhere safe when he agreed to be a Guoshi and it’s best it stays there for now. Who knows what’s about to happen to him and his few remaining possessions?

There’s a candle near the altar and Xie Lian lights it, both hair and clothes still wet enough to gleam like black ink in its light. He looks up to see which god he has to thank for his night’s shelter and freezes at the sight of a bow and arrow in the god’s hands. It doesn’t otherwise look much like Feng Xin, except where sloppy carving has turned what is meant to be a ferocious scowl into his normal irritable expression, but Xie Lian has to take a deep breath at the unexpected sight. He bows and then slides down to sit against the altar. When he leans his head back it’s almost resting against the statue’s foot.

The silver mask he pulls from his sleeve catches gold fire from the candlelight and he regards its bland features with affection. It’s kept him safe in the middle of the Yong’An court, and maybe now its absence would keep him safe again, but at what cost? Vengeance needs to be taken, and if Lang Qianqiu’s anger hurts his Guoshi enough perhaps there will be none left for the Xianle people. Lang Qianqiu is not a cruel person. One victim will be enough.

“Ah, Feng Xin,” he murmurs. “I wish you were here to tell me I’m about to do something stupid.”

Xie Lian closes his eyes. Tomorrow he should let himself be caught, before this chase wears away his resolve.

He wakes to a shadow looming over him too close to be the statue and opens his eyes to a far more familiar scowl. Feng Xin is half way through draping a cloak over him that’s worth more than everything in this shrine.

“Feng Xin?” he murmurs, sleepily. His eyes slide closed and then blink open fast as it sinks in. He sits up and pushes the cloak aside. “Oh, Feng Xin. I’m terribly sorry. Really! I had no idea that would count as a prayer. Please forgive me for bothering you.” He tries to bow while still half curled against Feng Xin’s altar and peeks up at Feng Xin’s expression. It’s no longer a scowl, but it doesn’t look pleased. Oh dear.

The silence stretches out between them, getting more awkward every second until it might become too awkward even for Xie Lian. Then Feng Xin shakes his head. “What stupid thing were you about to do?” he demands.

“Oh. Um.” There’s really nothing Xie Lian can do to stop Feng Xin watching him like a hawk now, so he’s going to have to convince him. He fidgets with his sleeves and Ruoye, inside one, gives him a comforting squeeze. “You heard about the slaughter of the Yong’An royals?” Feng Xin’s expression turns pained, as if he’s anticipating Xie Lian’s next words and Xie Lian tells himself that’s a good thing. Last time they were together Xie Lian had been hurting and hateful, if that’s enough to make Feng Xin accept this without question maybe he’ll accept that Xie Lian has to die for it. “I did that. And I’m going to have to answer for my crimes before what’s left of the Xianle people do.”

“Did the Xianle people pray for you to do it?”

“What? No.” Xie Lian thinks of Prince An’Lee, looking at him with eyes full of fanaticism and hope, telling him what they could do if they had a god on their side. “No, it was my idea.”

“Some of them have been praying to me,” Feng Xin says. “Asking me to curse Yong’An. Probably Mu Qing too, although that bastard might actually do it, he was eager enough to use Human Face Disease once…” He trails off, perhaps realising who he’s talking to and that Xie Lian has been the one to ‘do it’.

Xie Lian smiles painfully at him. “You should leave. This isn’t something you want any part in.”

“I’m not leaving you to get killed!”

“It’s fine. I’ve been killed lots of times now, I always get better.”

“What the fuck have you been doing to die that much?”

Feng Xin sounds aghast and Xie Lian wishes he could wear his mask right now because he can feel his smile trembling at the edges. It’s been too long since he’s had to use his own face as a mask. It’s been even longer, far longer, since he’s felt the urge to cry strongly enough to have to suppress it. Right now he’s fighting not to burst into tears as if he was six again and Feng Xin had found him at the bottom of a tree in the palace gardens, scratched up and bloody from his determination to climb it. He forces his smile back into a more solid form.

“It’s not easy being mortal,” he says. “At least I recover. Really, Feng Xin, I’ll be fine.”