Chapter Text
“San Lang, come back to me.”
Crimson Rain Sought Flower, the Fire Master, Hong’er, Wu Ming. These were but a few of the names he had carried over the years.
Soldier, orphan, servant, ghost, ruler, dianxia’s most devoted believer. These were the titles that resonated in his soul, that shaped his very being.
“Yin Yu, what do you want.”
His entire existence, his entire being was dedicated to Xie Lian. Who was he without his god?
“Blackwater reports that taizi dianxia has ascended to the heavens once more.”
The Chengzhu’s breath—not necessary; just for show, just to pretend he still could—caught in his throat.
Eight hundred years of waiting, eight hundred years of searching, and he was finally in sight once more.
Ahead, a red bridal sedan was surrounded by wolves and binu, various minor officials struggling to fend them off. Inside the bridal sedan, Hua Cheng saw him for the first time in eight centuries. His god is bathed in a bright glow that is bound by three tight black bands, containing his aura and stifling his power.
His aura is comforting in a way that no other heavenly officials has been for the ghost king, causing him to stumble for just a moment as he made his way closer to the clearing.
By the time he reached the bridal sedan, the heavily officials had already retreated farther down the mountain, leaving dianxia alone, surrounded by growling wolves and fierce binu. Good, no one could interrupt them if it was just the two of them.
Every step he took closer to the bridal sedan caused the wolves to retreat farther away, whimpering. By the time he was standing in front of the curtains (close enough to touch dianxia, close enough to feel his heavenly glow engulfing him in its warm embrace), even the binu had turned tail and run.
Enxtending his hand through the curtain, Hua Cheng waited with bated breath. When dianxia took his hand, he nearly collapsed.
Finally.
When he feels the cart stop, San Lang keeps his eyes closed. He can hear the farmer speaking to someone with that cheery voice of his, and he hears the stranger respond with thanks.
When they start moving again, San Lang keeps himself hidden behind the piles of hay as his god settles himself onto the wagon across from him.
This was it, the moment he had been waiting so long for. Despite his centuries of searching and preparation, he found himself at a loss of how to approach dianxia. It had been so much easier when he had followed him as Wuming, all he needed to do was be a puppet, a tool for dianxia to use to achieve his goals. Now, he knew that Xie Lian would accept no such thing. Even when he had approached the re-ascended god on Mount Yujun, he hadn’t been as nervous. Perhaps it was the circumstances. After all, the heat of a battle was far more part of his nature than a wagon ride through the forest.
Shifting in the hay, he listened as dianxia began to open the scrolls he had collected and read them out loud to himself. Or, maybe for him to hear as well. Surely dianxia knew he was here, he wasn’t working very had to conceal himself, and he was fairly certain his legs were visible beyond the hay. Regardless, it’s not like he would recognize Hua Cheng for who he was.
“Xianle taizi dianxia, ascended thrice as: a martial god, a misfortune god, a trash god. Well, all right. If you think about it, a martial god is no different than a trash god. All gods are equal. All blessings are equal.”
Despite his efforts, a small chuckle escaped Hua Cheng. Here was his opening.
“Is that right?” Hua Cheng leaned around the hay to get a better look at his god.
For a moment, Xie Lian appeared startled by his comment, but a warm grin quickly spread across his face, causing Hua Cheng’s unbeating heart to melt ever so slightly. Dianxia still wore the same style fo white cultivation robes that he had worn since his descent, long gone were the ornate royal robes of his childhood. Despite the sorry state of his clothing, Xie Lian looked so good that Hua Cheng found himself struggling to continue.
Mustering a lazy drawl, the ghost king continued, “People naturally love saying that all gods are equal and all beings are equal, but if that were true, then pretty much all those different gods wouldn’t exist.”
Dianxia nodded, his smile widening. “You’re probably right.”
The pair sat in silence for a while longer, Xie Lian engrossed in the scroll, Hua Cheng sneaking glances at his god, and the creaking of the cart wheels keeping time with the breeze. Out of the corner of his eye, the ghost king spots various lesser ghosts wandering the country-side, likely out collecting merits for the Zhongyuan Festival. He’d have to keep an eye out for any ghosts who might cross their path on the return to the village once the sun set.
The quiets was suddenly interrupted by Xie Lian pondering to himself once more.
“Why would a god of water control wealth?”
Hua Cheng leaned forward, and the next half hour was spent with him patiently answering any questions that dianxia had, taking pleasure in being able to fill in the gaps in his gods knowledge. The ghost king quickly gathered that Xie Lian had not payed much attention to the going on’s of the heavens and ghost realm while he had been banished, he had little to know knowledge of anything that had happened outside of the mortal real for the past eight hundred years.
The conversation eventually shifted to Hua Cheng himself, and the ghost king had to stifle a laugh.
“The Name ‘Crimson Rain Sought Flower’ evokes quite the imagery. Do you know where it came from?” Xie Lian leaned in closer as he asked, and Hua Cheng felt every fiber of his body light up in response.
With a smile, he leaned in as well, causing dianxia to blush a beautiful scarlet. “Nothing major, really. There was an incident when he cleared out the nest of another ghost, and a shower of blood rain poured down from the skies. He saw a flower was getting battered by the downpour, so he extended his umbrella and shielded it.”
Dianxia smiled, and in that instant Hua Cheng knew that he would wait another eight hundred years if it meant he could keep that smile on his gods face.
The Mid-Autumn festival was in full-swing in Ghost City. For some, it was a depressing time of year. After all, you only ended up in ghost city if your spirit was unable to move on from this world.
Despite this, Hua Cheng did his best to bathe the city in a festive glow, red lighting up every corner and side street, and firecrackers exploding in the alleys.
Looking up at the full moon in the sky above them, Hua Cheng tipped his glass, silently offering up his condolences to Chang’e. For less than a second, he allowed himself to feel sympathy for the poor girl. They ere one and the same after all. Only, he had long since escaped his lunar prison.
Regardless, she might be the only immortal left who would understand his plight. He could only pray to the only god who truly mattered that he would not be eternally trapped away from his love.
Shaking himself out of his moment of weakness, Hua Cheng resumed his stroll through Ghost City, leisurely making his way Qiandeng temple.
Bringing a moon cake to his lips, the ghost king hummed, savoring the sweetness of red bean and the saltiness of egg.
Up in the heavens, the lantern battle would be starting soon.
While Hua Cheng couldn’t care less about the gods’ glorified dick measuring contest, he knew that their opinions weighed heavily on dianxia. Yin Yu had already had to talk him out of storming up into the Heavenly Capitol to put an end to the moronic plays that served as nothing more than a way to humiliate those unfortunate enough to have been selected by a chalice of wine. And Hua Cheng knew all about his gods penance for misfortune. This Mid-Autumn festival would be the first in 800 years that dianxia would be counted in, and Hua Cheng had every intention of helping him decimate every other heavenly official.
By the time he reached Qiandeng temple, the lanterns he had prepared were already being released into the fragrant night air. He watched as 3,000 little lights floated above into the heavens, and a smug grin settled on his lips.