Work Text:
The forest had lived for thousands of years and had seen many strange things in its lifetimes. But there were none quite as strange as the day the darkness met the light. When he came, the forest knew and those that could run and hide, did. Those that could not, bravely stood their ground. An eerie stillness blanketed the surroundings and the inhabitants waited in foreboding anticipation for what was to come.
He arrived in an ominous shadow and the creatures that remained cowered in fear.
Although the alarm showed prudence, it was unnecessary for he wanted nothing to do with the forest. He came for a sole purpose only and when it was taken care of, he had no reason to linger.
With the arrogance and superiority of one who could not be defeated, he let forth a show of his immense power, an indelible trademark of blood rain that enveloped the forest floor in a curtain of red.
He was a crimson mirage himself, fiery and devastating and as he strolled through the forest with a red umbrella over his head, he cast a striking figure that even those who quaked behind thick foliage could not help but be awed. A tinkle of bells, joyous and hypnotic, accompanied his every step and rudely punctured the sense of disquietude that had settled in the air when he arrived. But without a care, his idle gait carried him along the path and the rain obediently followed behind him. The unfortunate ones who could not run were beaten down and the ground soon became soddened by the unforgiving patters of steady blood.
From the corner of his eye, a tiny movement caught his attention and he stopped. With a curious raise of eyebrows, he turned his head and saw amidst the greens and browns of the forest palette, a single white flower, no higher than the heel of his boot, wavering in the gust of winds that led the oncoming bloody torrent forward.
The flower was growing out of a gap in a large rock and something about it called to him. Maybe it was the way it held itself against the surroundings in a tenacious and determined manner as it faced the oncoming deluge, alone and without fear. Or maybe it was the stark whiteness in its familiar simplicity that drew forth past memories of long ago. He really did not know.
Nevertheless, without a second thought, he stepped forward and tilted his umbrella over the flower and it was not a moment too soon. The rain poured down hard and soon everything around it turned red. But the flower remained unscathed.
When the rain passed, he turned to leave but had only walked a mere five steps before a voice spoke up from behind him.
“Why?” it said.
Unsurprised, because nothing much could faze him, he looked back. No one was behind him but he knew what had spoken and his gaze landed on the little white flower.
The question ‘why’ floated about him in an echo.
Because he was bored, he decided to stay a moment, “Why what?” He replied lazily, “What makes you think you deserve an explanation? Besides, I do not talk to weeds. Show yourself or I’ll be on my way.” He closed his umbrella and stored it away then crossed his arms and waited.
The white flower bent as though pondering in thought. After a short while, a dim light emitted from it. The light grew and intensified until it became so bright it exploded and there, beside the rock where the flower grew, manifested a figure clad in a shimmery glow.
He wasn’t affected by the brightness and narrowed the eye not covered by the black patch against the glare but after the glow receded, he, who had faced countless encounters and never once faltered, felt his unbeating heart give way as he sighted the person who appeared before him.
“Dianxia!” He almost choked out. Because the one standing before him, surrounded by a saintly halo, was the splitting image of his beloved, his god whom he had spent years searching for.
An iridescent sheen spun off this Xie Lian like a web of silvery golden light that moved and glimmered, his almost translucent appearance making this vision of him look mystical and other-worldly. He hovered in place just slightly above ground, floating gently to the movement of air around him.
Drawing his scimitar, E-ming, he pointed the deadly weapon at the figure, “Who are you?” He demanded, keeping his voice low and menacing, giving nothing of the turmoil that was crashing in his mind away. He knew it wasn’t his prince. It couldn’t be because this entity only seemed to represent a dull fragment of the original person, merely a trickle of his core. His God’s essence was unsurpassed and what this imitation portrayed was incomparable to him.
But for that one fleeting moment...
The Xie Lian figure did not show fear. Instead, he bowed his head in reverence, “Supreme Ghost King, I am but a peaceful Flower Spirit, tied to this earth and bound to the Mortal Realm. I mean no harm and only wish to thank His Lordship, Hua Chengzhu, for his kindness.”
He was not surprised at all that this spirit knew of him. After all, he ruled the land and his reputation preceded him far and wide. However, when he heard the spirit speak, he trembled ever so slightly.
It sounded exactly like him. ‘Dianxia’ his mind whispered again. It had been hundreds of years but he could still remember. No matter if it was during a happier period or during the terrible horrors he was made to face. Every expression, every pitch of voice, every action. He remembered every single detail of his God in all his glory, beautiful and strong. He never forgot. How could he when the sole purpose of his existence was him? His search for him had never ceased and neither did his love.
Adjusting his stance, he cautiously sheathed E-ming, unable to tear his gaze away. With false indifference, he crossed his arms again and ordered, “Tell me your name.”
“Alas, I have no name. We Flower Spirits do not need names. We are merely guardians of the seeds and our life force is created from nature and the soil around us.”
Hua Cheng bristled and persisted, “Why then do you take this person’s form?”
The Flower Spirit was confused for a second before he realised who the Ghost King was talking about. With a wave of his hand and eyes shining with mirth and intelligence, the spirit Xie Lian laughed with merriment. ‘So similar’ Hua Cheng thought, feeling his resolve wither away.
“We spirits had no form before. We simply existed in the flowers. When they lived, we lived. When they died, we died. Our existence was merely a means for them to survive. It had always been so for a very long time. Then, many many years ago, my flower species contracted a disease and we were almost wiped out.” The Flower Spirit reminisced sadly. “We could no longer protect our stalks and were just hanging on by whatever strength we could muster. The only cure was something unfoundedly rare which we did not understand.” The spirit sighed. “There was no hope. No hope at all.”
“One day, a Daozhang wandered through the forest and he saw one of us sitting alone, waiting for death. He was very kind and asked - “What is a pretty flower so white and pure like yourself doing out here all on your own?” - When he learnt of our plight, he immediately said that he would help and asked what was needed for the cure.”
The spirit Xie Lian stopped his tale as though too emotional to carry on.
“Well?” Hua Cheng pressured after a pause.
“With misfortune comes sympathy. With sorrow comes pity. With humanity comes mercy. With suffering comes benevolence. I am the cure.” The Flower Spirit recited. “When he learnt of it, the Daozhang simply laughed! We flowers were perplexed. We were dying but the Daozhang could only laugh! Then he said it was easy and he already had the cure with him!” The face that looked so much like his God smiled.
“The Daozhang sat on the ground and dug his hands into the soil. He sat like that for one day and one night. Until the next morning when new shoots started sprouting from the ground! Soon the entire forest floor was covered in our white flowers. It was beautiful!”
The Flower Spirit had a wistful expression as he came to the end of his tale. “Ever since then, we discovered that we were no longer just an empty entity. We could create a form at will and when we do, it would be of our Savior Daozhang. It’s as if he had poured part of his essence into the soil we grow on and we now carry a bit of him with us.”
Hua Cheng was silent for a long time. So long that the Flower Spirit prompted, “Don’t you want to know what the cure is?”
With a slight shake of his head, Hua Cheng said, “No.” Then he added softly, “I already know what it is.”
“How could you know?” Came the shocked reply.
“Because he is the cure.” Hua Cheng said plainly as though there was never any doubt. “It is in his every touch, every thought, every breath and his very soul.”
“He...” The spirit interrupted.
But Hua Cheng didn’t let him finish. “Compassion.” He revealed, with a hint of pride, and something else. “That’s what he is. It is because he believes and that is why you lived.”
The Flower Spirit stared at the Supreme Ghost King. At that instant, he understood. Gently he cleared his throat.
“Why did you help me?” He asked again.
Hua Cheng almost didn’t want to answer but as he looked at the face of his beloved, he couldn’t help himself, “You looked like the flowers I gave to someone once before.”
“It must have been someone very special.” The spirit Xie Lian commented.
This time, Hua Cheng did not reply immediately and just when the spirit was about to give up waiting, he heard a soft whisper, so soft that he almost missed it.
“He still is.”
The Flower Spirit smiled. They were wild flowers but all flowers, no matter where they come from, know the secret language of love. What may look like stalks and petals hold a deeper symbolism when it comes to love. The Spirit knew that when he presented the flowers those centuries of years ago, he was also giving away his heart.
The Flower Spirit watched as the Ghost King turned to leave. He had initially been wary of him but now that he knew what lay in his soul, he wished for him to stay a little longer.
Hastily, the spirit Xie Lian called out, “You know, he said the same thing as well.”
Hua Cheng glanced back and his steps hesitated.
Happy that he managed to capture his attention again, the spirit continued in delight, “The Daozhang said he stopped because the white flower looked familiar. That he had received flowers like us from someone a long time ago. Those flowers had made him happy and he always remembered them fondly.”
The Ghost King listened and a wave of emotions collided in him. He took one lasting look at the face he loved so deeply and as an afterthought asked, “Why is there only one of you now?”
The Flower Spirit stepped closer to him, the knowledge that they shared a common devotion to the same person making him brave. “We sleep,” he said simply. “At this same time those many years ago, we almost died. We take this time now to rest and on the morning of the day the Daozhang saved us, we will awaken, fresh and ready to start anew the life he bestowed upon us. I’m the last to sleep this time and I’m glad I stayed around because I got to meet you.” The beautiful face blushed shyly.
Hua Cheng swallowed visibly. He suddenly felt an urge to reach out to touch. With much effort to keep his hand steady, he gently brushed a finger across the cheek of the one who looked so much like his beloved prince. For a rare and very brief moment, he let his guard down and the Flower Spirit was the first being, after a very very long time, to get a glimpse of the Ghost King’s vulnerability and into the crevice of his soul where he kept his deepest feelings and devotion to his one and only God.
The Flower Spirit felt a wetness in his eyes and he leaned into the cool palm on his cheek. Time stood still and for that little while it took for a broken leaf to drift its way slowly down to the ground, the spirit learnt what it felt like to be loved so profoundly.
Touching him, Hua Cheng could feel the tremor of the real Xie Lian’s energy flowing in him and he allowed himself, just for that moment, to imagine that his dreams had come true and he had found him. His energy, his life, pulsed so vividly beneath his fingertips that it pulled him in like the strongest current of a riptide, until he felt as though he was drowning again in his transcendent light. He closed his eye and a single tear fell.
With a soft murmur, the spirit brought him out of his reverie and said the last thing he needed to say.
“He sat right where you are standing.”
Hua Cheng stood numb as reality crept in. The earth under his feet, the spirit that stood before him with such likeness, his strength and compassion and heart had all been poured into this one place. He was years too late and regret clutched at him. Yet, if there was this one time, there would be another. Dianxia was out there and one day he would find him and on that day, he would not be late.
The spirit had stepped back. It was time to go.
He was sad but this was how it was meant to be. He may carry the Daozhang in him, but this was not his love to own. With one last look at the ghost standing alone amidst the giant trees, the spirit Xie Lian bowed low in gratitude and mutual understanding.
With a heavy feeling, Hua Cheng looked on as the one with the face of his beloved faded away.
Afterwards, he knelt down and pressed his palm over the damp earth and there he remained for a very long time.
The Flower Spirit back in the confines of his petals watched him. He could feel the sadness of the Ghost King and he ached for him. And so he prayed. He prayed that one day, a ghost and his lost love would meet again and on that day, the ghost would present him with a white flower, with his heart. The Spirit knew this to be true and with a contented smile on his beautiful face, he closed his eyes and waited for the new day to dawn, bringing with it fresh promises and new beginnings.
*
Twilight came. A little butterfly fluttered its silvery wings and sought out a lonesome white flower whose petals were closed in restful slumber. The night was chilled and the flower’s fragile stalk nodded in quiet solitude with the cool breeze. The butterfly flew close and landed delicately on the flower, its front legs caressing the petals tenderly. Then, with the softest of movements, it spread its wings and wrapped itself over the sleeping flower. And there it remained throughout the cold night. Even when tiny dewdrop crystals began to form, the butterfly stayed on, keeping the flower safe and warm in its embrace. Shrouded within the cocoon of wings, unaware that it was no longer alone, the flower slept on peacefully.