Chapter Text
There was a man who wore red. No, not Crimson Rain Sought Flower. Another one; a youth, perhaps 18 in appearance, although everyone knew him to be much older– at least a century he must've been. His hair was ebony black, braided loosely over his shoulder. His skin was fair, and his eyes were of a dark brown color. To the community he served, this man was the closest thing they had to a missionary. Most people called him the Narrator. Such was how the Lord of Lost Things became the Lord and his Narrator, as well as the God of the Aimless and the Following Storyteller.
There were lots of names people came up with, in fact, for these devotees often had quite an amount of time to get lost in thought. It was what made them so peculiar, perhaps– that constant thinking and dreaming, along with all the other things normal people were so often too scared to do. However, for the sake of coherency, his title was the Narrator.
This man in red, not Crimson Rain Sought Flower, but possibly a ghost like him, was special. Not for his looks, although they were quite fine, not for any martial skills, although many believed him to possess such, not for his status or power or riches, although his confidence implied a luxurious life. He was special, purely and simply, because of his voice.
Many people have nice voices. Many still know to use them to charm and seduce. Yet few know how to shape it into a story. To mold their voice into castles, hills, monsters and heros. To shift their timber to that of tragedy or delight. To weave words with tones until they had a tapestry of the world they described.
It is difficult, both in speech and in writing, to draw someone in so thoroughly that they see what you see, hear what you hear, smell what you smell. It is difficult, but not impossible, and the Narrator possessed great mastery over the art of purely oral stories. He used this ability to share, all across the plains, all the precious memories he had of a man who might've forgotten himself.
In a town far, far to the north the sky was overhead with clouds. Grey, heavy clouds, that sort that announced a dreary morning. Beneath them, not afraid of rain nor hail, walked the man they called Narrator, only just arriving. He had a certain type of countenance that made him undisputable. Most made way for him with glances both curious and intimidated, but some latched onto his sight with anticipation, subtly following the man to his stop.
When the Narrator found the back of an abandoned apothecary with a little shrine up against its wall, his steps finally paused, settling him there. His expression showed that, yes, this was exactly where he'd wanted to be. People of various ages, gender and status, gathered around the man they called Narrator. For a short while, these people will forget their differences in favor of a common want: a story of their Lord.
The Narrator had several delicate blossoms, the sort of wildflower associated with this God, all of which he gently lay on the platter. He carefully, deliberately arranged them to press against the left inner corner. All the while, the people settled without complaint. No one told the Narrator to hurry. They simply watched.
Finally, the man they called Narrator turned to fully assess the onlookers. His expression was known for being one of constant composure and no-nonsense. He was here to tell a story, maybe two, and then he would leave, and no one would dare hinder their herald's path. Now, the Narrator clapped his hands, once, twice, locking everyone's attention on his words alone.
Then, he began to speak of his Lord once more.
.
.
.
Xie Lian sat leisurely on the back of an ox cart, pulling out the scroll Ling Wen had graciously lent to him. On it was all the information on the current Gods, with all the ascensions he had missed included. He didn't really recognize the Elemental Masters, so they must've been replaced somewhere along the 8 centuries.
He hummed to himself, reading through unfamiliar names and titles with the sound of hooves trotting ahead. It was a beautiful day, Xie Lian noted with a smile. Autumn was at it's fullest, turning leaves red and the breeze chillier. Now, with the sun slowly descending, the beauty was at it's height, golden light shining through the canopies. Truly, this was the sort of sight he had dearly missed when up in the Heavenly realm. The uneven passage uphill that jostled the cart ever so was ever lovelier than the picture perfect smooth marble of Heaven's bridges.
Eventually, Xie Lian looked back at the scroll and caught sight of his own name. Scrap God, they called him. He laughed internally. How could someone ascend by collecting scraps? How did anyone even come to that conclusion? What did they think he'd do, bless the junk people found? Well maybe he would, who knew? Not him. No, Xie Lian had since learned he didn't know much of anything, and neither did anyone else. For the most part, he just believed.
“Scrap God or Water God, in the end they're all Gods, and therefore all equal.” He said this out loud easily, for he knew it to be truer than most did. Sure, it might sound like a naïve belief, or a pitiful consolation, but it really wasn't pure nonsense; those of the Heavens really weren't so different from one another as they liked to think. Even though they did different things, had different powers and l the same way, and that told him everything he needed to know about them.
Xie Lian was startled by the sound of a young chuckle. “People like to say all beings are equal; but if that were true there would be no Gods at all.”
He'd forgotten that laying beside him in 9 ofthe hay was a teenager with bright red robes, the color of maple, lazily smiling without a care in the world.
Xie Lian laughed. “I suppose you are right.”
He looked back at the scroll. The description beneath his own name was, of course, rather grim, so much so he sounded more like a ghost than a God. Nonetheless, it was all within his expectations. He did note a curious blank space beneath his name. For some reason, Xie Lian felt that there was something supposed to be written there but the person changed their mind last minute. Hm.
Then, his eyes skipped over to the Water Master. He wondered: “If he's a water God, why does he control wealth as well?”
“When merchants travel, they often must first transport their goods through water. Before setting sail, people typically light some incense and make offerings to be blessed with a safe trip. Thus, the Water God became a God of Wealth.”
“Ah, then the Water Master really is quite a powerful Heavenly official…”
The teenager snorted, conveying a surprising amount of contempt. “Yeah, Water Tyrant he is.”
“...Water Tyrant?”
“Any ships that do not make an offering before hand are doomed to sink or flip over. Sounds like a Tyrant to me.” The boy sat up from the hay, with the same confident carelessness he seemed to do anything. Xie Lian sneaked a glance at his boots, almost expecting little bells. No, they were just fur. Could this be a young master who'd come out to play for a while?
“My friend,” Xie Lian began, “you are quite knowledgeable in such matters, aren't you?”
He smiled. “Not really. I just read whatever I can get my hands on; of course I pick up on some things here and there.”
Yeah. Sure. Xie Lian chuckled, then closed the scroll.
Over time, he'd gotten accustomed to meeting people whilst traveling, building brief, but deeply meanful friendships with them. He couldn't help but ask: “Young Master, would you happen to worship a certain Lord?”
The youth’s smile widened, and his eyes crinkled endearingly as a result. “Mn. Daozhang is quite clever.”
Xie Lian laughed. “It's not cleverness, I'm afraid. I've just been traveling long enough to pick such people out.”
Honestly, this teen was very different from other devotees. Xie Lian didn't fully believe he was one at all, he simply wanted to see how he would respond.
“And Daozhang?”
“Mn?”
“Daozhang said he travels a lot; travellers usually devote themselves to my Lord.”
“Ah.” Xie Lian blinked in surprise. Somehow, no one had ever asked him such a thing. He replied truthfully: “I amn't a worshipper, so much as I occasionally pay my respects when I find a shrine.”
Gods generally had two types of prayers: those of dedicated worshippers, who were committed to that God in particular, and people who prayed because… there was a conveniently placed temple, or the God simply suited their wishes. Xie Lian however, might just have discovered a third type: someone who simply left offerings and took offerings without praying or even really knowing who the God was.
“Our Lord would welcome it, I'm sure.” The teen said pleasantly. There was an amused glint in his eyes.
“My friend, do you know of ghosts as much as you do Gods?”
“I know some things.”
“Have you heard of Hua Cheng?” Xie Lian asked. The teen grinned.
“Hm. What do you wish to know? Gege need only ask.” Gege, huh?
“Crimson Rain Sought Flower is quite the poetic title. Where does it come from?”
He shrugged in response. “It's not so interesting. Apparently, Hua Cheng once cleared out a ghost's lair, and while he did, he summoned a rain of blood. He then noticed a particular flower, getting drenched in the rain, and extended his umbrella to protect it.”
Although the young man said it with such disinterest, Xie Lian imagined such a scene would make for quite a stunning painting. In the short moments he'd been with the Calamity, he had an air of youthful indulgence, as if he did whatever he wanted, but also a unique elegance, that spoke of much experience with the world. Xie Lian even envied him a bit, for appearing so confident in his actions, whereas Xie Lian himself didn't know what he was doing half the time, even after 800 years. “Does Hua Cheng frequently pick fights wherever he goes?”
“I wouldn't say so,” the youth replied, “although it must depend on his mood. Generally, he only strikes when provoked.”
For Hua Cheng to have been left to his devices for so long, he mustn't be as terrible as the Heavenly officials like to paint him as. Terrified as they might be, were he truly prone to randomly killing many people, the Heavens would have to intervene, even if only the Emperor himself. So, despite all the drama, he probably stuck more to his own realm. Xie Lian had already come to this conclusion, he simply had wanted to see how the teen would reply.
Now what else could he ask?... “What kind of person was he before he died, do you know?”
“Hm. Not a good person, that's for sure.” The teen replied. Xie Lian disagreed with the sentiment. Truly, things were never so clear-cut. It wasn't so difficult for decent people to become powerful ghosts– you need only a strong will and a good motivation.
“What does he look like?”
“What do you think he looks like?”
Xie Lian huffed, amused. Quite the playful companion that he'd picked up, wasn't he? Upon closer look, he could see that the youth really was quite striking in looks. “Someone of such power must have many appearances.”
“Gege is right. Although sometimes he uses his original appearance too.”
“Well… then I think his original form isn't so much older in looks than yours.” He declared.
The boy in question quirked an eyebrow. “How come?”
“What do you mean, how come? You say whatever, then I can think whatever. We can both do whatever we please.”
The teenager chuckled in response, with a delighted twinkle in his eyes at the teasing. “Who knows? Though one thing that is known for sure, is that he's missing an eye.”
The teen leaned into Xie Lian's space with a smile, tapping playfully on his own right eye. “This one right here, see?” Then he leaned back to his own spot.
Xie Lian noted that, despite his seeming uncaring actions, the youth never actually breached his space to the point of discomfort. He was, actually, quite respectful, especially for a stray young master.
“How did he lose it?” he asked, out of pure curiosity.
“No one can say for sure…”
“Oh, okay.”
“...” The boy laughed. “The most common rumour is that he gauged it out himself in a fit of madness.”
Dug it out himself, huh? Truly, Hua Cheng became more interesting with each tale. “What about weaknesses? Do you know any?”
Xie Lian hadn't been expecting an answer for this question at all. If Hua Cheng has such an easily discovered weakness, he wouldn't be any threat to anybody. Even if the youth did answer, it would probably not be entirely correct. However, unexpectedly the boy replied immediately: “His ashes.”
“...” A ghost's ashes give you total control over the ghost. He knew this of course, but any ghost of noteworthy caliber knows to hide their ashes properly; a ghost like Hua Cheng, who's been around for so many centuries, definitely his somewhere no living or dead soul would find. So this answer was as helpful as saying: he has no weakness. Xie Lian pointed this out, and the teen shook his head in response.
“Not necessarily. There are circumstances where a ghost might give away their ashes voluntarily.”
“Like the duel where he bet them?”
The boy snorted. “That trash didn't stand a chance; he might as well not have bet his ashes at all.
“But there is this tradition: if a ghost finds someone they love above all else, someone they trust wholeheartedly– they may just hand over their ashes to that beloved person.”
“...wow” He murmured, trying to imagine such a thing in his head. It all seemed so fairytale-like, completely unrealistic in nature… yet who knew? Xie Lian had long learned not to take anything for absolute. A ghost's very existence defies the laws of reality. And it is their own life, who’s to say what one may wish to do with that? Still, to hand over your life so completely, the very thing keeping you in the world… it wasn't just romantic– it was insane. He supposed insanity was pretty in line for ghosts though.
“I never would've guessed the Ghost realm had such a romantic tradition.”
“En. Although not many dare practice it.”
Xie Lian sighed, looking back at the maple leaves with a solemn expression. “It's painful to even think about it; to have given everything for love only to lose everything in return.”
The youth, however, just laughed. “Eh, what's there to fear? If it were me, I could never regret such a thing. Whether they throw it into the sea, or scatter the ashes for kicks, who cares?”
Xie Lian grinned, charmed by this eccentric personality. He looked back at the red-clad teen, who sat so lazily beside him, but whose eyes were alight with energy. He looked at him closely, and he wondered… “Tell me friend,” Xie Lian said, “what is your name?”
The boy smiled. “I was the third of my family, so they called me San Lang.”
It wasn't really his name, but Xie Lian was more than familiar with people choosing aliases. In any case, it wasn't his place to pry. So he just replied: “My family name is Xie, my birth name Lian.
“San Lang,” the name rolled nicely off his tongue, “are you also heading to Puqi Village?”
He sighed dramatically and lay back into the hay with his arms crossed behind his head. “Aiyah, Gege,” he spoke with a tone of profound suffering, but his face was practically deadpan, and his eyes held a secret mischief. “My parents were arguing all the time, it was unbearable… then next thing I knew they kicked me out!”
Then, San Lang snapped back up to his previous position and smiled. “I roamed around for a while, and now I'm here, with Gege.”
Xie Lian wasn't sure he wasn't making it up in his head, but the words with Gege, seemed to be more serious than the rest, carrying a certain… awe in his tone. Ah, he was probably just imagining things. Anyway, the youth was turning out to be quite amusing. Xie Lian reached into his sleeve.
“Here.” He brought out a steamed bun, which was thankfully not yet hard. “You must be hungry!”
He took it. “What about you?”
“I'm not hungry.”
“Then neither am I.” He handed it back to Xie Lian.
“...how about we split it?” He tore the bun in half (and sneakily passed the bigger halve to San Lang, but he didn't need to know that) “now we both eat.”
San Lang appeared to find this an agreeable concession, and began munching obediently. When watching him eat, Xie Lian felt almost like he had bullied the teen. He chuckled under his breath, then focused on relishing the small meal. Perhaps he was imagining it, but the bun seemed much more fulfilling with company then alone.
The ox cart drove steadily whilst the two chattered in the back. With every reply the youth uttered, Xie Lian felt himself warm up to him even further. San Lang possessed incredibly extensive knowledge about all sorts of things, answered every question with easy assuredness, as if he was certain there wasn't any problem that could stop him from achieving his wants. Xie Lian thought he was wide beyond his years, but at the same time he revealed a sharp sense of humour tied along with a penchant for mischievous teasing.
When Xie Lian said he was the Shrine Master of Puqi Shrine, San Lang said: “Puqi Shrine? Sounds like there are a lot of water chestnuts– I like them. But which God is it for?”
The question was most difficult to answer of course, and a lesser (or better?) man wouldn't have been capable of replying with a straight face. Who could admit to having a shrine dedicated to themselves? Since it was Xie Lian though, he shouldered on easily enough, despite the awkwardness within. “The Crown Prince of Xianle. I doubt you know him.”
San Lang smiled, but his reply was interrupted by a violent shake.
It was a nice, content atmosphere. So of course, that was when the cart came to an abrupt stop. You know how it goes; if something can go wrong, or even if it can't, while Xie Lian is there it most certainly will.
They both jerked violently, and Xie Lian instinctively reached out to keep San Lang from falling off. However, as soon as his hand came into contact with his friend, the boy flinched back; a surprising break in his composure. Perhaps Xie Lian had brought up bad memories? Or had the boy not taken a liking to him the way Xie Lian so immediately did? They were having a good time earlier, he'd thought… well, not the time to mull over such things.
“What's wrong?” He called out.
“I don't know! He just stopped all of the sudden-” the farmer replied, “come on, Old Huang, what's up with you?”
It was only at this moment that Xie Lian realized that dark had since fallen. The trees that had cradled the path so beautifully before now appeared to be sinister structures designed to stump as escape to freedom. It was amazing how a simple change of light was enough to make a dream turn to a nightmare. Of course, Xie Lian wasn't afraid–
(Sometimes he wondered if he still knew how to be afraid, if he still had it in him to dread suffering, the way he's sure he once did. He wondered if he'd ever again understand such a basic part of humanity, that avoidance of pain that he'd since forgotten to feel. Sometimes he wondered if one day he'd forget how to feel even the poor echoes that joy had been reduced to, if he'd forget how to conjure the tired replicas of righteous fury, if, perhaps, he'd even forget grief.
In the middle of endless decades of wanderings, during those moments where he was well and truly alone and unfeeling, Xie Lian wondered if he'd someday forget the very core concepts of being human, this becoming something other)
–He wasn't afraid, but it really was an unsettling sight. Stuck in the middle of the road, a mysterious force stopping the ox from moving ahead… it all felt wrong. Then, he heard them. He heard them, as well as the driver's scream.
Ghosts.
Immediately, he summoned Ruoye: “Protect!”
The silk band whipped out from his billowing sleeve, then formed a circle around the ox cart from above, protecting the four of them. “What day is it?!”
The driver didn't answer, likely frozen in terror, but San Lang did.
“It's Zhongyuan”
“...”
Of course it was.
The ghostly figures all wore the white grabs of prisoners, and carried their heads in hand rather than on their neck. By their appearance alone, anyone could guess they were criminals that had died of execution. They slowly made their way to the cart, apparently unaware of it.
Xie Lian dropped his voice: “when they approach, do not make a sound.”
“Gege, you have superpowers?” He asked in reply, tilting his head. He looked to be genuinely curious. Xie Lian sighed. Must he stay nonchalant even now? Well, it'd make sense if- no, no, shelf that away for now…
“No superpowers. I just know a few tricks, is all. They can't see us right now, but I'm not so sure it'll last once they get close…”
“Oh no,” the ox cart driver's eyes were wide with fear, and his voice quivered greatly. “Oh, no no no, Daozhang, I'm not sure I'll stay quiet! What should I do?!”
Xie Lian pinched his brow for a moment, then said: “there is another way. Apologies in advance.”
Then, he knocked the man clean out.
After laying the farmer across the cart, he turned back to San Lang. “Are you all right?”
“Of course not. I'm very scared.” Answered the youth with a straight, absolutely not frightened expression. Actually even the words themselves were said clearly and easily, without a trace of fear in between the syllables. Still, Xie Lian comforted him.
“It's okay, don't be scared. So long as you're behind me, you'll be fine, alright?” The boy smiled, but said nothing. In fact he appeared to be focused on another matter, far more so than that of the ghosts. His eyes were locked on the shackle wound around his neck. Xie Lian tugged at his collar, strangely self-conscious, but there really wasn't any way to conceal it without re-wrapping his neck. The sky had darkened to an unnatural degree, this shielding the finer details of one's expression. Xie Lian had no clue at all as to what his companion was thinking.
Meanwhile the group of ghosts had now reached their area, seeking to pass, yet found themselves blocked by some mysterious force. They cursed violently for a while. Thankfully, Xie Lian managed to soothe the ox into moving out of the way.
Then, they dissolved into petty banter. It was quite amusing.
“Hey, did ya make a mistake? Why does it feel like you're holding my head?!”
“Must've been you who switched them up then! It's always you…”
“Guys, just switch heads already…”
“Yo, why is your head cut so poorly?”
“Ugh, the guy was a total newbie. It took him like, five or six times! Made me think the fucker was doing it on purpose.”
“It's probably ‘cause you didn't tip him enough. Next time, don't forget to pay the guy well, you'll get a nice clean chop, you'll see…”
“There is no next time dumb fuck!”
It was all very amusing, until the ghosts suddenly started screeching over… the murder of ghosts. Apparently someone was going around shattering ghost fires, thus leading them to conclude a cultivator may have infiltrated their ranks. From there it wasn't hard to remember the odd obstacle from earlier and so… In the span of less than ten seconds, the cart was surrounded by a large gathering of nefarious creatures.
They could no longer hide.
Xie Lian wasn’t sure why he had thought he would manage to sneak away at all. When has his misfortune ever failed him before?!
He grabbed the youth, then urged the ox to flee. The creature, already terrified beyond belief, obeyed his request immediately, running off quicker than Xie Lian would've thought it capable of. It still wasn't enough; If he didn't do something, the ghosts would catch up to them no problem.
“GET HIM!”
“THERE REALLY IS A CULTIVATOR!”
“YA SAVAGE, DID’JA THINK YA COULD JUST SHATTER OUT MATES AND ESCAPE EASY?!!”
“At least we’ll get to have a nice snack, hehehe…”
You're mistaken, Xie Lian cried in his heart, no one here was killing any ghosts! It was some other person, they were just threading to the village!
Of course, what ghost would ever believe him? Xie Lian fumbled around for some talismans to stunt the chase for a bit, hopefully enough so that they could flee. He continued urging the ox, escaping like his rear had caught fire, until he was forced to stop at the sight of a fork in the road.
Now they had to be extremely careful! During Zhongyuan, any sudden fork in the road could mean one path led to the ghost realm. If they picked the wrong way, that's when they'd really be in trouble! If you were familiar with the area, great, you know which path had always been there and which one was a gateway to the underworld. Xie Lian, however, had only just arrived in this village, so he had absolutely no clue where to go.
He remembered he had acquired a fortune shaker when collecting scraps earlier that day, so he thought, why not make use of it? He shook it while mumbling: “By the Heaven Official's blessing, no paths are bound! The great road leads to heaven; one to each side, may we go our separate ways! The first stick left, the second stick right! We'll take the path with best fortune!”
Like that, two sticks fell out of the shaker. He picked them up and fell silent.
The worst of bad luck!
Both of them were the worst of bad luck! If that was the case, why even bother worrying over which way to take? Both paths led to ultimate doom! Xie Lian felt deeply exasperated and shook the shaker furiously once more. “Dear fortune shaker, we've only just met, why are you so cold? I'm going to try again, please be of use this time…”
Clack, clack.
Worst of luck. Again.
Not for the first time Xie Lian wondered why he even bothered anymore. He might as well do what he will and smack the bad luck out of the way. Except in his experience that didn't work out so well either.
Suddenly, San Lang spoke up: “Let me try?”
It's not as if the situation could get any worse, so Xie Lian easily tossed the shaker over to his companion. The youth stared at it for a moment before beginning to shake it much calmer than Xie Lian did. Two sticks fell out, which he handed back to him without care.
The best of good luck!
Xie Lian briefly entertained the thought that the youth had really stared the shaker into submission somehow. Normally, Xie Lian's luck was so bad that others around him would feel unlucky too. In reality though, it wasn't that his luck poisoned other luck, it was that his luck was bad enough that any other luck that might've helped him was powerless before his misfortune. People tended to get caught in the crossfire, however Xie Lian was almost entirely sure his bad luck didn't have long lasting consequences, so long as he wasn't terribly invested in that person's future. In which case his misfortune would act so that those he cared for suffered, which made him suffer in turn. Makes sense, right?
Yet this mysterious companion’s luck had actually managed to override his own! Incredible!
Since both ways were supposedly the best of good luck, Xie Lian picked a path at random. “My friend, your luck is quite impressive!”
San Lang, casual as ever, smiled back at him. “Really? I think it's good too, although luck isn't something to be impressed about. Anyway, it's always been this way.”
When he said this, Xie Lian couldn't help but note that the difference between some people really was that of heaven and earth.
They ran around for a while, totally lost, when the beheaded ghosts found them again. “Ey, I caught him! He's here guys!”
“Everyone come ‘round, the cultivator is here!” Ghost after ghost showed up, holding up heads with savage expressions.
“I can't believe we still picked the wrong way…” Xie Lian sighed dejectedly.
Since they had seen them last, the group had only grown. It was now no longer only executed prisoners, there were all other sorts of nefarious being gathered around. Before them all, one headless ghost stood out. He must be the current leader of sorts.
Xie Lian addressed them warmly, looking to avoid a fight as always. “I'm sorry for the inconvenience. We really didn't mean to disturb you; pray you show us mercy?”
The ghosts sneered. “Mercy, what mercy?! You dear ask for that after destroying how many ghosts?!”
“That wasn't us. Truthfully, I'm but a lowly scrap collector…”
“Bullshit!” Another ghost, this one with a large reptilian head, snapped their jaws. “You're obviously a cultivator, what scrap collector looks like that?! And besides you, the cultivator, who would do such a cruel thing?!”
The funny thing about life is that every situation was built out of dozens of contrasting perspectives. If you were a human, it was easy to think of ghosts as the villains of every story– heartless creatures of evil that only knew to hurt. But things were different when seen from a ghost's side. From their point of view, ghosts that were simply going about their day would get destroyed for no reason by the oh-so-righteous cultivators. And they weren't so wrong. Although sometimes the ghost was causing trouble, sometimes the sinister haunting was just some demon trying to sing old folks songs to himself.
(Yes, that happened once.)
All of this to say, Xie Lian understood where they were coming from. It was a fairly logical conclusion based on pretty strong evidence. They really got it wrong this time, though! Xie Lian hadn't even known there were ghost fires around to shatter!
He sighed. What do I do now… One hand slipped discreetly into his sleeve, where he kept more talismans hidden away.
Much to his surprise however, Xie Lian needn't do anything at all. The headless ghost in front, who must be some sort of leader, suddenly called out: “Everyone stop!”
The ghost lifted his head (literally) to seize up Xie Lian with narrowed eyes. “Let’im be. It wasn't them.”
The ghost spoke with absolute certainty and authority in his voice. The ghosts around him were as startled as Xie Lian himself by the vehement affirmation.
“...eh? Old man, ya sure ya haven't lost your head for sure this time?”
“The fuck did you say?! I know damn well what I'm talkin’ about, you think I would spare a cultivator if I wasn't sure?!”
Xie Lian watched, bemused, as the ghosts argued amongst themselves, with plenty of curses flying out between them. However even as they protested they were moving away, leaving the ox cart and its odd occupants alone on the road.
“...” The old God had since learned not to dwell on the why of these sorts of things, and instead turned to face the youth beside him once more. San Lang had quite an unreadable expression at first, but smiled as soon as their eyes met. Xie Lian cleared his throat. “I guess your luck really is quite good!”
“Gege, I think it's just that no idiot with minimal intelligence would think you would do such a thing.” San Lang replied immediately.
…This guy is so insincere! Xie Lian didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he took the reins and set off instead.
At last, despite all the misfortune, along with awkward palm readings, they arrived at Puqi Shrine with minimal casualties. Xie Lian gently shook the farmer who had so generously lent them the cart. When the man awoke, he thanked him and told him to go home and not to tell anyone about what happened. The man nodded vigorously, still quite shaken, then scampered off on his cart.
Xie Lian watched him go for a moment, then laughed a little to himself. Not a bad day, not at all. He turned around and sure enough, the youth, San Lang, was right there smiling mysteriously. Xie Lian was rapidly becoming familiar with his easy confidence and self-assuredness. As well as the twinkle of mischief –and some other emotion he couldn't quite decipher yet– he always carried in his eyes. A runaway young master that wore bright red robes, knew more of the three realms then 800 year old Xie Lian, and who had impressive luck he took advantage of liberally. This odd, unpredictable figure that just so happened to be on the same cart as him… Who could he be?
“San Lang, do you have anywhere to stay for the night?” Xie Lian asked, realizing that the boy probably hadn't meant to come all the way up to the shrine.
The youth shrugged, oozing with arrogant nonchalance. “I'll find some cave nearby to make camp. Gege shouldn't worry.”
Xie Lian smiled. Make camp with what? Your imaginary tent? Young Master you've nothing with you but your own robes! “Aiysh, don't go wandering out there during Zhongyuan– sleep here for the night.”
The youth grinned, looking like a very satisfied feline. Like he was getting exactly what he wanted. “Well, if Gege insists…”
It was fairly obvious, at least to Xie Lian, that this was the arrangement he'd hoped for. Honestly though, he didn't mind the unsubtle manipulation at all. He understood the want for company well, and mostly just felt amused.
The shrine was barely better than a cave, Xie Lian thought, although San Lang uttered not a single complaint.
“So, is there a bed?” The youth asked. Fair question. There was certainly no bed in sight. Xie Lian unrolled his straw mat, showing it to his impromptu roommate.
“There's only one?”
“If you don't mind, we can squeeze in, I think.”
“That works.” San Lang agreed. He really was such an easy guest, Xie Lian remarked to himself. Such a rundown place yet not a word of disdain.
He began to sweep just to clean up the place a little before sleep. The easy, repetitive motions were of some comfort to him too. San Lang looked around the shrine while he did, even though there wasn't much to look at. Just a long altar table, two small stools, a small cushion, and a donation box. However, Xie Lian wasn't bothered by its meek appearance at all; he had grown accustomed to the simplicity of the wayside shrines of the Lord of Lost Things, thus he really felt like it wasn't so important, how sparse the interior was. Xie Lian would've been happy even if it were just a tiny construct on the side of a road, but he needed a place to sleep.
“Gege,” San Lang called out, “will you be representing your God in some way at all?”
Oh, he'd forgotten about that completely. He could just paint something but… Xie Lian shook his head. “Not yet, I don't think.”
It was odd, but Xie Lian had not only grown used to the miniature altars for the Lord, he had also grown to appreciate the vagueness of them all. He thought he might want a painting in the shrine someday, however for now he preferred it bare. Truthfully, he didn't know what he wanted his representation to look like at all. Like himself as a prince? He wasn't that person anymore, hadn't been in so very long, how could it possibly represent him? Like how he looked now then? Who would worship such a simple figure? Even if there were people… the person he was at the moment was too unstable to serve as his image. He had ascended again, yes, but he was still the same homeless, grieving old man he'd been before. He was still moving about like a loose leaf in the wind; whichever way people blew him to, he went, not because he wanted to but rather because he had no wants to speak of.
When he was a Prince, he had possessed a goal, an identity, or rather, a core. That core had since been lost though. Nowadays he felt empty most of the time, left bereft by the world and fate itself. Xie Lian was a God of no title, a deity of no domain, an ascension with no cause. He was nothing but himself, and he himself wasn't much of anybody at all.
Something had changed, though. He had once been sure that this was it; his final form. His destiny. The one whose ultimate shape was none at all. He had thought that his story was well and done, so now he could only drift in and out of another's. Now, he wasn't so sure. Something, not his ascension itself, but after that, had set something else in motion. Xie Lian felt like he was on the cusp of a new form, a new self, or perhaps the first real self he'd had since his days of royalty. He felt like he was at the edge of a precipice he hadn't known he'd been approaching, and below could lie the reason to keep going that he so yearned for, or an even greater doom.
He felt like he was about to change, had already begun changing, into someone with actual weight rather than the untethered wisp he was now. Perhaps that person, the one he'd soon meet, soon be, perhaps that person would have a proper core. A proper self. That person would have an image he knew represented him truly, that person would make a painting for a shrine with confidence.
“Well,” San Lang said, startling him out his musings, “if you ever do want a portrait, I can paint pretty well.”
Xie Lian blinked, startled. Then he smiled. “Thanks, but how can you paint someone you've never heard of?”
“Who says I haven't heard of him?”
Come to think of it, while Xie Lian had assumed he didn't know of him, San Lang never actually got to reply back on the cart. “San Lang, don't tell me you really know him?”
There's no way!
The pair sat down on the mat as they talked. “I do,” San Lang affirmed.
The youth really had quite an interesting personality. One could never tell if his smiles were real, or if he was mocking the other party. After hearing him speak of other Gods on the cart, Xie Lian felt quite curious about his friend's opinion of him. A little afraid too. “What do you think of him?”
Up until this question, San Lang had always answered readily and immediately. Now however, he took his time thinking out his answer properly. This only served to make Xie Lian more nervous.
Finally, the youth settled on a reply. “I respect him.”
Xie Lian was taken aback, wholeheartedly surprised. When was the last time anyone had respected him as a Prince? “Oh? Why?”
“Whilst he was a God, he brought himself down to the level of mortals,” the boy spoke solemnly, “that is far more impressive than any of the feats of the rest of the Heavenly realm.”
What?
“...you really think this so impressive?” He asked genuinely. He was absolutely stunned.
“Fighting ghosts and monsters, as a martial God, all that's easy.” he explained with the most serious expression he'd shown so far. “Concerning oneself with happenings of the common people? That takes real courage.”
Xie Lian didn't know whether to laugh or sob. It was a much too positive way of looking at his past. It wasn't something he was sure he agreed with at all. His actions back then? Impressive? Brought himself down to the level of mortals? He doesn't think it was any of that. Still…
Despite everything…
There was a part of himself, a part he'd thought dead, a part that had been terribly wounded for so long… that began to heal. Even with everything Xie Lian knew now, the idealistic child– because that's he really had been just a child, hadn't he?– that still lived somewhere deep within him, that young prince who'd wanted only to help, that foolish, naïve person he once was… for the first time in centuries, he seemed to settle, just for a moment. And the darkest part of Xie Lian, the part he'd embodied during the aftermath of it all, that part calmed too, for just a moment.
Despite everything, he realized those words were something he'd wanted to hear in so long. Those words, however incorrect they were, he had needed to hear them back then, and he had carried the need with him all this time. It never had gone away, the hoping that his actions were not only regarded as foolishness, he had only learnt to ignore it.
Xie Lian looked at this odd stranger he'd so easily clicked with, easier than even the Lord's worshippers, and wondered how his misfortune had allowed someone like this to meet him at all. One afternoon in, and he already felt like more of a person than he had in centuries.
That night, the pair went to sleep side by side on Xie Lian's ratty singular bed mat. The whole shrine creaked, the roof had dripping holes that allowed for a particular drip to reach his calf, no matter how he positioned himself and the ‘pillows’ were literally just their own rolled up outer robes. Although for Xie Lian this was luxury, for a wealthy young man it must've been beyond reproach. Yet he never complained, never condescended; he had looked mildly displeased with his mat but Xie Lian felt it wasn't aimed at him for being poor.
In the end, the old God slept better than he had in a long time.