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The click of heels echoed as Feng Xin paced the length of his golden palace’s main hall, his boots wearing a path into the tile floor. His subordinates had long since learned to give him a wide berth when he was agitated like this, which meant the entire palace staff was currently hiding in various corners, pretending to be coincidentally busy when their paths accidentally crossed.
He couldn't stop thinking about what Xie Lian had mentioned so casually over tea three days ago, as if it were just another piece of gossip.
"Did you know Mu Qing has never been kissed?" Xie Lian had nonchalantly stated before sipping his tea. "Not once. In over eight hundred years. He mentioned it offhandedly when we were discussing cultivation vows. I think he was a bit embarrassed about it, actually."
Feng Xin had choked on his tea then, and he'd been ruminating on the information ever since. It was unfathomable. Mu Qing? The most beautiful, infuriating, sharp-tongued man in the three realms had never been kissed? Sure, his cultivation vows prevented intimacy, but what about before taking them? No one had ever seen that insulting smile, scowling glare, or that stupid face he made when he found something cute and was tempted to kiss it?
The notion was outrageous! Unbelievable! It was simply, utterly unacceptable.
It was also, Feng Xin realized with growing certainty, something he desperately wanted to be the one to fix. Not just because it was Mu Qing or because the thought of someone else doing it made his chest feel like it was caving in, but because it was wrong. Mu Qing deserved— Feng Xin abruptly paused midstep and sighed, deep and frustrated, running a hand through his hair, mussing up his semi-tidy top knot.
Mu Qing deserved a lot of things he'd never gotten. Sometimes he deserved an ass kicking, something Feng Xin would have been the first to volunteer for. However, since mending the… well, fucked up relationship they endured for centuries, Feng Xin found himself volunteering more and more for giving Mu Qing the things he deserved, and a first kiss was no exception.
A smile spread across his lips as he remembered: Mu Qing’s birthday was in three days.
A birthday gift. The perfect gift. One he could plan, execute, and deliver. Mu Qing liked things to be perfect, adored offerings that were thought out and meaningful, and he had a special space in his palace where he kept the truly earnest, sentimental gifts. He'd appreciate the effort, even if he'd never admit it.
The only question was how.
· · ────── ·☾☼· ────── · ·
The brainstorming began in earnest. Feng Xin sat at his desk, a blank scroll unraveled before him, brush poised with fresh ink dripping. Carefully, he wrote:
Idea 1: Under the stars. Romantic. Classic.
Feng Xin stared at it. It wasn’t terrible as far as first kisses went. He had kissed a girl under the stars once, making the moment feel ethereal as stars glittered overhead. However, it was too… he sighed. It was too ordinary. Mu Qing deserved a first kiss story that could never be replicated. Something that made anyone who asked jealous.
Without hesitation, Feng Xin scratched it out and scribbled a new idea.
Idea 2: Ask him to spar. During a grapple, grab him, kiss him, and let him win.
He stared at the absurd idea longer. Mu Qing would absolutely stab him and leave him bleeding out in the training grounds. Quickly, he swiped his brush over the line, obscuring it forever.
Idea 3: In the rain. Hair gets wet. Very dramatic. Bonus, Mu Qing looked good, dripping wet.
This time, Feng Xin actually glared at the words. While he enjoyed the way Mu Qing looked in the rain, Mu Qing certainly did not enjoy being wet when he didn’t have to be. He didn't even know if it was supposed to rain.
Feng Xin tossed the brush aside and dropped his forehead onto the table, his hair ribbon falling like a gold waterfall beside his cheek.
This was impossible. How did people just... kiss? He'd done it before with someone he loved and other people whose names and faces he’d long forgotten, but this was Mu Qing. This had to be flawless. It demanded a magical setting, divine timing that felt coincidental yet was anything but, or Mu Qing would file it away as another reason Feng Xin was an incompetent fool.
He wrote furiously for hours, crumpling every scroll and throwing them across the room until he was certain he had planned an unparalleled first kiss.
· · ────── ·☾☼· ────── · ·
The day of Mu Qing's birthday arrived, and Feng Xin was ready.
Plan A: Find Mu Qing at sunrise, when the light was soft and golden, and ask him to walk through Mu Qing’s garden where the first blooms of spring were beginning to flourish in soft whites, purples, and pinks. There was a cherry tree in the center that was blooming early, the perfect space to share an intimate moment beneath dappled pink sunlight.
Buzzing with eager anticipation, Feng Xin stayed awake all night, sitting on his balcony, staring at the palace next to his. The moment the sky began to lighten, he raced over to Mu Qing's estate only to be told by a sleepy servant that Mu Qing had not returned yet from the mortal realm to deal with a minor emergency.
Feng Xin's shoulders dropped as he glanced at the horizon, the sun already illuminating the clouds in shades of gold. Fine. Sunrise was overrated anyway. Plan B would more than suffice.
· · ────── ·☾☼· ────── · ·
Plan B: Midday. Mu Qing always took tea alone in his favorite pavilion overlooking the clouds, which Feng Xin frequently interrupted. Feng Xin would arrive with a gift—saber gloves embroidered with a cascade of stars and moons he'd commissioned—and when Mu Qing looked up, surprised and off-guard, Feng Xin would lean in and—
He found the pavilion empty, occupied only by a note on the table in Mu Qing's precise script: Called away. Xie Lian needed help with a rogue spirit. Leave whatever you brought by the kitchen garbage.
Feng Xin crumpled the note, stuffed the gloves in his sleeve, and stormed off to formulate Plan C.
· · ────── ·☾☼· ────── · ·
Plan C: Sunset. The rogue spirit situation couldn't last forever, not when Xie Lian and Mu Qing were skilled, efficient martial gods. Feng Xin waited outside the palace gates where Mu Qing would return, leaning against a pillar in what he hoped was a casual, effortlessly handsome way. The sky was turning orange and pink. Elegant lighting. Divine timing.
Mu Qing appeared at the gate, robes disheveled and covered in muck, hair escaping its usual perfect arrangement. He spotted Feng Xin and immediately scowled, causing Feng Xin’s heart to splatter on the ground below. Oh no.
"What are you doing here?" He spat, scowling with enough ferocity to burn down a village.
Feng Xin took a deep breath, stilling his frustration as he began to understand that Plan C was already going awry. "Waiting for you."
"Why?"
Feng Xin opened his mouth to deliver the line he'd rehearsed: Because I wanted to see you. Because today is special. Because—
A group of junior officials rushed past, calling Mu Qing's name. "General Xuan Zhen! The report on the spirit needs your signature immediately! Ling Wen is demanding it by nightfall!"
Mu Qing's eyes flicked to Feng Xin. “Get lost."
"Wait—" Feng Xin started, instinctively reaching out to save Plan C by any means possible, but Mu Qing was already walking away, stained robes beyond his reach, not even glancing back.
Blood boiling, Feng Xin watched him disappear into the palace, the perfect sunset light glinting off Mu Qing's hair, and wanted to scream.
· · ────── ·☾☼· ────── · ·
Plan D-Z: ugh.
He'd tried everything. He'd attempted to catch Mu Qing after dinner only to be intercepted by an urgent summons sent by Pei Ming. He'd tried to corner him in the library, which ended in a book thrown at his face. He'd even considered just showing up at his door like a madman, but that felt less like a perfect kiss and more like a restraining order waiting to happen.
Now, he sat on the white marble steps leading into his palace with his arms crossed, a deep scowl and lower lip jutting out, making him appear like an overgrown toddler as midnight crept closer. The moon hung fat and white over the celestial realm, casting silver light that softened the world’s edges until they glowed.
Maybe he could just... Feng Xin grumbled, his frown deepening. What the hell could he do at this point? Mu Qing’s birthday was nearly over, the perfect first kiss story would disappear with it, and Feng Xin would prove once again that he was incompetent when it came to Mu Qing.
The creak of the palace gates being pushed open alerted him to someone approaching. As he looked up, he found Mu Qing breezing down the paved path, effortlessly exuding the essence of a divine being who had earned every right to walk the streets of heaven. He was wearing new robes without his armor, hair in a loose braid, bangs curling around his temples and jaw. He looked up as he approached, and for once, there was no scowl. Just tired curiosity.
"You've been acting strange all day," Mu Qing said quietly. "Following me around, lingering outside my palace, and annoying my junior officials every five minutes to ask my whereabouts. What are you doing, Feng Xin?"
The moonlight caught the delicate line of Mu Qing's throat, the shadows beneath his eyes, the slight downturn of his lips. He looked beautiful. He looked exhausted. He looked like someone who'd spent his birthday dealing with everyone else's problems, as usual.
Feng Xin’s gaze fell, shoulders drooping, expression souring. "I was trying to find the perfect moment. The perfect way. To kiss you for your birthday."
Mu Qing blinked. Once. Twice. His eyebrows darted upwards as he found Feng Xin’s words sincere. "What?"
Heat crawled up his neck. "I found out you've never been kissed. And I thought—I wanted it to be special. For you. Because you deserve—" He gestured between them vaguely, helplessly. "Something incomparable that you could snootily brag about over tea. So I've been trying all day to find the right moment, the right way, and everything kept going wrong, and now it's almost midnight, and I've wasted your entire birthday being an idiot about it."
Silence.
Mu Qing stared at him. Then, stunning Feng Xin, he laughed.
It wasn't a mean laugh. Feng Xin had heard plenty of those. This was something softer, almost disbelieving. Mu Qing shook his head, a strand of dark hair falling across his cheek.
"You're an idiot,” he teased as he wiped a mirthful tear from the corner of his eye. "The biggest idiot in the three realms."
Grumbling, Feng Xin huffed and petulantly pouted. "I'm aware."
Mu Qing rolled his eyes, but there was no bite to it, just shimmering moonlight in his gaze as he observed the man sitting on the stairs of his own palace like he didn’t deserve to enter after a day of failures. He sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder, nudging him with his elbow. To Feng Xin’s surprise, Mu Qing leaned toward him, closing the distance between them until they were barely a breath apart. His eyes, dark and endless in the moonlight, looked up at Feng Xin without their usual armor.
"It doesn't matter how," Mu Qing breathed against his lips. "It doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be you."
Feng Xin's heart stopped.
Then it started again, pounding so hard he was sure Mu Qing could hear it. He raised his hand slowly, giving Mu Qing every chance to pull away, and cupped the side of his face. Mu Qing's skin was cool from the night air, soft as silk beneath his calloused palm.
The last whisper of distance vanished.
The kiss was sweet. Gentle. Nothing like the frantic, desperate moments Feng Xin had imagined. It was just the press of lips, slow and warm and tasting faintly of the tea Mu Qing must have drunk earlier. Mu Qing's breath hitched against his mouth, and his hand came up to grip Feng Xin's sleeve, tugging him closer as if he needed reassurance that this moment was real.
When they parted, Mu Qing's eyes were soft, his lips slightly pink, and his cheeks slightly flushed. He looked at Feng Xin for a long moment, then raised one elegant eyebrow.
"That's it?" he asked, his voice light. "People break their cultivation vows over something so mundane?"
Feng Xin's gut plummeted. The familiar wave of inadequacy washed over him. Of course. Of course, it wasn't enough. Of course, Mu Qing would find him lacking, even in this.
He opened his mouth to apologize, to explain, to defend himself—
But Mu Qing was already rising to his feet, walking slowly toward the path that led to the gate and the road beyond. He paused after a few steps, glancing back over his shoulder. The moonlight caught the curve of his smile, small and private and just for Feng Xin.
"Give me the same gift next year.”
Then he walked on, disappearing into the shadows, leaving Feng Xin sitting frozen on the steps.
The same gift. Next year.
Next year.
Feng Xin's heart soared so high it probably breached some celestial regulation. He sat there for a full minute, a grin spreading across his face so wide it hurt, before he remembered he needed to breathe.
Next year. He had a whole year to plan. A whole year to make it even better. A whole year—and maybe, hopefully, every year after.
He walked to bed on clouds, already mentally composing his list of ideas for next time. Maybe with fireworks. Or during a meteor shower. Or—
He stopped himself. Grinning at the door to his room. The kiss didn't have to be perfect; it just had to be them.
As he lay in his bed in fresh sleeping robes, Feng Xin buried his face in a pillow and hugged it, his feet kicking giddily beneath the sheet. He had given Mu Qing his first kiss, and next year, he would give him his second. The possibilities of how he would do it were endless, but one thing was certain: next year couldn't come soon enough.