Chapter Text
On the seventh day, Wei Ying gets to see it in full. He gets to walk along the city streets hand in hand with a Ghost and a God, hiding behind them as ghosts fawn over him like he is a special child. They call him things like ‘little prince’ even though he doesn’t particularly feel like one. Xie Lian just waves the words aside with a laugh and an excuse that gets progressively less serious as more and more ghosts talk to them.
“He’s not our child.” He says simply when a pig-faced ghost greets them and says he is a handsome child; as to be expected of their lord and grand uncle.
“We just can’t seem to get rid of him.” He waves off a female ghost who pinches Wei Ying’s cheeks happily.
“You can see him too?” He asks, entirely serious looking at a gaggle of smaller ghosts who had knelt to be at Wei Ying’s height.
“Well, you see, we simply wanted a trial run of having a child. You know how it is.” He says to an older looking ghost who simply nods sagely.
Each one makes Wei Ying let out a little giggle.
The Ghost King seems rather amused by it, at his husband tricking people and their charge laughing along.
The entire city is absolutely beautiful to Wei Ying. It makes him think of the one time with his parents he was fortunate enough to witness a wedding procession. All the reds of the city make him think of that, of the joy seen, of his parents and how they held him close and explained every detail meticulously planned out. He enjoys being able to run around and looking at everything, all awash in red and with just as many happy, loud, ghosts as there were people.
It is strange to him that a place of death is still so enjoyable. Death was such a somber occasion for the living he never would have considered that it could ever be happy for some.
But here it was, at least partially, joyous.
So, he takes a moment to soak in the atmosphere, all the smiling faces as ghosts yell out their wares. To look at all the pretty lanterns floating around.
It’s while they are in the market that they find him. While he is looking at some really cute masks, one in the shape of a bunny though most of them are designed after terrifying beasts and demons. There are several others he finds very cute and even points them out to Hua Cheng who nods and agrees that they are in fact very cute.
Then there is a little tug on the collar of his robes and he turns slowly, thinking perhaps he caught another ghost's attention and sees two little fires of a pale blue.
It wasn’t entirely strange to be seeing them, he had seen plenty around the city. This shouldn’t have been anything new. It wasn’t. He looks at the two little blue fires, watching them flicker and flutter about and Wei Ying feels a sense that he should know these two fires. Like he can see their faces despite the lack of them. Like he knows them.
“A-niang?” One of the fires flickers at the confusion in his voice. Wei Ying feels like he is choking. He turns to the other one. “A-die?” It brightens as if that could answer.
It does.
And it shatters his entire world.
He knows the faces he is meant to see in the small fires.
He keeps them both close as he cries out, cupped against his cheeks. The tears come strong and fast as he hiccups. “A-die, a-niang!” He cries out again. It’s like that’s all he can say, a constant mantra of ‘a-die, a-niang’ with growing despair and desperation.
The two little flames flutter around him as if concerned, brushing against his cheeks as though to wipe away his tears.
They are both so very cold.
And dim. Like their light was barely there.
He sobs out a few deep breaths before his lungs catch up to him and he can’t breathe again. He dry heaves like he is going to throw up. He might. He certainly feels like he should.
“A-Ying,” Xie Lian’s voice is quiet and calm as he places a hand on the boy's shoulder. He doesn’t—can’t—let go of his parents' souls. “I’m sorry you had to learn like this, but they’ve been searching for you for so long here and they can’t pass on without seeing you.”
“B-But, a-niang!” He sobs once again, raising his hands to wipe away his tears.
He doesn’t see the crowd that has gathered. He doesn’t notice the Ghost King growling said crowd away with a single glare.
He does notice the arms that wrap around his chest and begin to list him and it makes him panic.
“No! No no no no no! NO!”
“A-Ying, we aren’t leaving them.” His Highness reassures him once again, the two little flames floating up along with Wei Ying and settling against his shoulders as he is carried. His sobs settle into a couple wet gasps. “They can stay with us as long as they wish, we should just move off the streets sweetheart.”
He doesn’t stop crying until they are within the walls of the Paradise manor once again. The five of them settling into the garden, Wei Ying sitting on the ground and sniffling away the last of his tears as his parents' souls rest in his palms.
“A-Ying,” the Ghost King says to him as he sniffles once more, the fires in his palms flickering with what he thinks may be concern. “Are you ready to talk?” His voice remains calm and collected and Wei Ying can only manage a nod. “Okay,”
No one talks for a while.
“They cannot stay here forever, A-Ying.” His Highness breaks the silence with those heartbreaking words and Wei Ying feels tears start up again but it’s like he is out and they never come.
“Why?” His voice is torn and rough from all the screaming sobs he had let out so freely before. Both the God and Ghost look pained.
“Everyone must pass on eventually, to enter the cycle of reincarnation. Unless they become wraths they cannot stay for much longer, they are already beginning to fade now that they found you.” He looks down and the fires in his hands do look just a bit dimmer, a bit duller. His face twists into something awful as he tries to hold back the tears.
“Then make them wraths.” His Highness looks more uncomfortable by the second.
“I would never wish them to become that,” the Ghost King looks over at his husband, face stern but eyes holding an undeniable great and deep pain. “But, we can come to an agreement together.”
One of the fires, the one Wei Ying has determined is his mother, seems to perk up. Glowing just a bit brighter at those words.
“We can take you in, if you so wish.” His Highness offers. The words make Wei Ying look up in confusion. “Me and my husband would love to take you in, if you chose to allow us. We can ensure that your parents move on peacefully and can rest.”
“But,” he closes his mouth quickly, eyes falling to the two little flames that still burn in his palms. He pouts a bit.
The Ghost King seems to take notice and crouches in front of Wei Ying, one hand on his shoulder and the other supporting the hands that hold his parents' souls. He looks into Wei Ying’s big silver eyes and nods somberly.
“Okay.” His voice cracks on such a simple word and his breath hitches in his chest. Then, the Ghost King backs away from the three a few paces.
He kneels on one knee and hangs his head low with a hand against his chest. “I swear on my god, I will take care of him in your absence.” He says to the ghost fires, not lifting his head until a few moments of silence have passed.
His Highness bows, not as low as the Ghost King had but still a very respectful amount. “I promise you, no harm will come to your son in our care.”
Wei Ying feels tears in his own eyes again as he looks down at the ghost fires, ever so slightly duller. And dimmer.
It was time, but he didn’t know if he wanted it to be.
He wants to cry. He wants to laugh.
He smiles. “It’s okay, I’ll be safe with them. Go.” He urges them, trying to keep his shaking smile on his face. The fire he knows is his father zips around him a few times and rubs against his cheek a few times. The fire he knows is his mother nuzzles against his nose and forehead.
As he watches the two little blue flames fade away and then dissipate entirely he begins to cry, knowing his parents would not be able to see it. He cries loud into the night air before a warm hand is placed on his shoulder and he rushes into the safety of the Ghost Calamity’s arms. Feeling those warms wrap around his shoulders and keeping him safe, tight against the ghosts chest.
On the eighth day he doesn’t see any of the city beyond the walls of Hua Cheng’s palace. He has no desire to.
He had no desire to even leave the bed he had been given.
So he doesn’t.
He isn’t ready to face his new parents.
But that doesn’t mean they stop caring for him. A few times in the day a ghost servant comes in with some fruit or a red-bean bun or rice and meat and try to strike up a friendly conversation. He doesn’t really look at any of them, only humming his response every so often.
He finds the strength to at least leave the bed before the end of the day, wandering over to his window and sitting at it with his head resting in his arms.
“A-Ying?” Xie Lian walks into the room late in the evening, finding the boy still awake and staring out the window. “It’s late, why are you still awake?”
“Couldn’t sleep,”
“I see.” He doesn’t turn to look at the other but hears a slight rustling of fabric. “That's understandable, but sleep is very important. Maybe this could help.” He hands over a small pouch that Wei Ying can smell from where he sits.
He knows what it is, his mother often used it herself to aid in sleep. A useful tea for anyone. He reaches out and takes the pouch with a sniffle.
“Thank you, a-a-di—” Xie Lian silences him quickly but gently, placing a hand on his mouth as he crouches to be below Wei Ying. He looks concerned. Or perhaps saddened.
“You don’t need to call me that, A-Ying.” He says, just as gentle as ever and that kills him. He should need to call him that. He was now Wei Ying’s parent. Officially. The God had been given a blessing from his parents. “You can call me anything you want.”
“Xie-gege?” He asks, a bit worried he would be suddenly thrown from his room and out the window and into the streets of the Ghost City. He would expect that, even of His Highness. If he didn’t give people what they wanted then they would always throw him away.
His Highness looks like he wants to cry, or laugh as he smiles. “That sounds wonderful.”
“And I would be Hua-gege?” A voice asks from the doorway. Hua Cheng smiles at him when Wei Ying looks over.
“Mhm.” He nods, averting his eyes.
“Well then, would you like Xie-gege to help you get ready for bed?”
It takes him weeks to sleep soundly again, even with the help of the tea.
It takes a month to get more clothes in more of his parents' colours.
It takes him three months to get used to constant food.
It takes six months for him to begin to think less of his parents' deaths. Nine months that when he thinks about them he no longer feels sad.
It takes him nearly a year to call the God and the Ghost King his a-die and baba and truly mean it.