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Xie Lian is looking for a mask. 

Not just any mask. That mask. The same mask that had haunted his deepest nightmares and stared down at him and cooed while that sword plunged into him over and over and over-

Xie Lian pulls at his hair to escape the memory. The fresh sting is enough to refocus his mind on the present, where he stumbles through the market as though half alive. The people give him a wide berth.

Good. He doesn’t want those traitors anywhere near him. After his parents had looked after them, provided for them, fought tooth and nail for their wellbeing, all it took was a few measly years for the common people to pretend they never existed. 

Xie Lian needs that mask. It is fitting, he thinks, to strike back at the people with the same thing that had brought Xian Le down. If he were reading a story, he might have even called it poetic. Not that he had ever cared for fiction, not when he could be reading on swords and cultivation instead. 

His mother had liked fiction though. Stories of romance and tragedy that she would read to him until he got too old to put up with such things. 

A bundle of something runs into his leg. He doesn’t hear whatever fumbled excuse the child gives him as he glares down. Another one of those who had turned their backs on him and his parents. Running and playing- what gave them the right? 

The only warning either of them get is the way Xie Lian’s robes rise unnaturally as the bandage that had been docile on his arm unfurls. It lashes out with a speed Xie Lian might have appreciated, if the sight of the bandages hadn’t sent another wave of repulsion through him. The child is sent flying to who knows where. Amid the cries and yells that he drowns out, the bandage floats back up, twisting and wriggling in Xie Lian’s line of sight. 

His lip curls. What was it looking for? Approval? For what? He hadn’t asked it to do anything. Still, the bandage wouldn’t leave, determined to plague him. 

Xie Lian let it, only because he was too preoccupied with his parent’s burial and plotting the kingdom’s downfall to bother with the stupid thing. Oh he had cursed at it, with every filthy insult in his vocabulary. He had threatened to tear it to shreds whenever it dared approach him while he dug proper graves, yet it kept coming back. 

It was only after his parents were buried that it could get near him. Too exhausted by the sobs and the lines in his wrists- he should have known that wouldn’t have worked, how could a body that survived hundreds of stabbings be felled by such little lines. They had barely even hurt. It had curled around his bleeding limbs, doing its best to stop the bleeding, and he had laughed. 

So the bandage stayed. In some ways it was all Xie Lian had of his parents. How pathetic, to have the scrap of their memory be the very thing that had killed them. What a disgrace he was to them. 

Now, he barely spares the bandage a glance before he walks on. Someone else makes a grab for his arm, and it flings them away too, careening into a nearby stall. 

“Good,” he says to it, voice low and hoarse. If it wanted to make itself useful so badly, this is the least it can do for him. 

Xie Lian has a mask to find. 

The bandage strikes at the masked ghost, quick as a viper and twice as deadly. It has improved vastly in the short amount of time, spurred into improvement by Xie Lian’s quick dismissals and rare nods of approval. 

It still curls in on itself when he praises it, wiggling like it is some excited puppy. Frankly, it is embarrassing, as Xie Lian let it know constantly. Not that his words have stopped the bandage.  

Though it is only natural, it is still impressive to note how much spirit the bandage had got and is still developing. The blood of a former god and death of two royals is nothing to scoff at, after all. The bandage certainly didn’t have to be so...expressive, in its own way, or clingy. 

Now that annoying clinginess is useful. Because the bandage stays wrapped around his arm, he can feel the power flowing from this ghost. Not just some weakling. With a sharp tug, he pulls the bandage back. It refuses to slip back quietly though, instead circling around him, as if in warning. Xie Lian doesn’t have the energy to tell it off now. Let it do as it wishes, he has more important things to manage. 

If a bandage is the only constancy he has left, then so be it. He’ll tear Yong’an to the ground and they can watch it burn together, rejoicing in the screams of the people. 

Xie Lian lays in the middle of the street, sword in his stomach, sun beating down overhead, and one hand clenched around that stupid bandage. It struggles against his hold weakly, not daring to defy him further than that. The first day of this it had been compliant, dormantly wrapped around his neck. Last night, it had come out and tried to pull the sword from his stomach before a snap had sent it scurrying back into his sleeve. 

Maybe his command hadn’t been harsh enough. His fingernails dig into the cloth, threatening to tear it from the strength of his grip alone and finally it goes still once more. 

Xie Lian has had a lot of time to think, in between ignoring the dull pain in his stomach and the skittering glances he gets from the passerby. 

They all avoid him, avoid looking at him, talking about him, doing anything about him. Even the vendors that have set up shop right across from where he lays do their best to ignore him. He is surrounded by people, and yet not a single one has offered anything, not a hand, not a kind word, certainly not help. 

He doesn’t know why he tried. He knows now that it’s better not to have hope in people. 

Everyone left, in the end. 

Still, Xie Lian has had time to think. He has a theory now, why that damned bandage is so loyal. How could it not be loyal to the one whose blood it shares? They were bound now, fallen god and cursed bandage, by something unbreakable. 

He remembers Feng Xin swearing loyalty when they were children, how Mu Qing’s eyes had lit up when he first asked the boy to become his attendant. Broken sticks and broken bodies, scared by faces and blade marks alike. Feng Xin had run so quickly with just a word, not even bothering to come back. If he had, would he have seen them too? His parents swinging back and forth in that decrepit cottage, strung up in white. 

If blood bound the two of them, then maybe the blood still seeping into his robes could call out to something, someone, and make it so they wouldn’t leave either. 

The bandage squeezes his arm. Xie Lian quiets the urge to rip it off and tear it to shreds. 

In the pouring rain, the bandage wipes away the tears that stream from his eyes as the man leaves, his precious bamboo hat left behind. 

For the first time, Xie Lian looks at the bandage and sees something other than a cruel reminder of death and loneliness.

Xie Lian thought he knew what hunger was, what pain was. He had suffered so thoroughly, watching his kingdom fall as he made every wrong decision. He had lived on the streets, scrounging for money and food. A thousand stabs had been leveled into his body. Everyone he knew and loved he had to watch leave him. 

The pain he feels now is different. Nothing yet has quite compared to that time- and truly, that is a blessing. This pain is quieter, but aches in a saddened, lonely way that is new to him. Before, he had others by his side to share in his pain, to enjoy the little spots of luck and despair with. The time after driving Feng Xin away was spent in a numb haze, still reliving the feeling of being stabbed to pieces while desperately trying to keep his parents alive. After that only rage fueled him, unlike any anger he’s ever known. Hate. He had hated everyone and everything for daring to be happy. That isn’t something one can feel pain through. 

Xie Lian lays on the ground next to the road, too hungry and tired to make his legs move. His chest aches with its emptiness, tongue glued to the top of his mouth. This, he realizes, is something he will simply have to live with, forever. 

He may have decided to live in atonement, but this...this…

A shadow falls over him. Blinking he looks up to see a man squatting above him. 

“Hard times on the road eh?” 

Xie Lian hums, mouth too dry for him to want to attempt talking. Maybe the man can offer him some water?

“Got anything on you? I mean, I’m gonna search you either way but I might as well ask.” 

Ah. Xie Lian can see the same lines of hunger on the man’s face that he remembers seeing on his own last time he had seen his reflection. He shakes his head, honest. The last of his money had already been taken a long while ago. 

The man nods. “It’s rough for all of us out here.” He reaches for Xie Lian’s robes, and the first breach past his outer robe sends a chill down his spine, bile rising at the touch even separated by a layer of fabric. He flinches away, which of course is taken as a signal that he has something to hide. Another hand joins the first, and the revulsion grows. 

The bandage, innocently wrapped around his neck, twitches. The man notices the movement, and reaches. 

“Sto-” Xie Lian tries to get a warning out, but he cannot tear his jaw open fast enough, nor make his tongue move before the man brushes against the bandage. The bandage strikes, tying the man’s hands together before throwing him far away. 

“Stop-” Xie Lian coughs. His voice, barely above a hoarse whisper. “Don’t- Don’t hurt him.” 

The bandage pauses in its protective circling around Xie Lian, coming down to twirl around his face. “Go back, bandage.” 

The man scrambles to his feet a distance away, and the bandage edges closer to him. 

“Get back here,” Xie Lian orders. Though with the state of his throat it’s more a croak than anything. “Leave him be.” 

The bandage doesn’t return to its position around his neck, but it does curl quietly into a bundle on his chest. The would be thief cries foul, footsteps racing into the distance. 

Xie Lian looks at the bandage on his chest, contemplating. It was trying to protect him, but it can’t go around hurting innocents. He can still remember that child and however many other people the bandage had flung aside while he was too angry to care. That’s where the bad habit started. 

He can’t let it continue. So what if the man had searched him, if Xie Lian had nothing else for him to rob? What’s a bit of uncomfortableness in exchange for the injuries the man must have now? Xie Lian can’t die, surely it was better for him to suffer than anyone else? The bandage can’t keep injuring regular people over small things like this. Wild animals were one thing, but people are a different story. 

He wants to tell the bandage off now, but he’s already talked enough for his mouth to be sore. The patch where his tongue had been stuck burns, each breath harsh against his already raw throat. His eyes slip shut once more. 

Once his body recovers from this, then he’ll do it. For now, he slips back into his thoughts, away from the agony of the present. 

“Should I name you?” Xie Lian asks the bandage that sits curled around his neck. It covers the lifeless bandages underneath to hide his cursed shackles. Curious and horrified glances, while harmless, were still enough to make him self conscious. He can’t exactly count on the spirit infused bandage to cover both curse shackles all the time. While it listens to him, it is not without its own streak of bad behavior. Moving at just the right moment to scare people witless, smacking people out of ‘defense’ but often just because it could get away with it. 

Behavior like that is why the option has been weighing on his mind so heavily. Calling it “bandage” is a bit of a mouthful, and in comparison to the bandages around his ankles, seems an unfair way to refer to the spiritual device. 

The bandage in question only unravels enough to hang one end in front of his nose, swaying back and forth. 

“Would you like a name?” He tries instead, hoping to garner a more concrete reaction from it. That does the trick, the bandage shooting out to circle around him with dizzying speed. 

“Alright then,” Xie Lian says with a smile. “Let me see what I think of.” 

The bandage stays up in the air around him even as he continues walking, lost in thought. What best suits the bandage? 

All at once, his mouth goes dry. It’s become so much easier, as time has passed, to forget where the bandage came from. No matter how useful, how powerful, it will be forever stained. 

“You look so innocent...and yet…” he murmurs, raising a hand to stroke the bandage. It leans into the touch, threading through his fingers. 

“How about Ruoye?” 

The bandage pauses in its circles, considering. All at once, it twirls up in a spin strong enough to nearly blow his hat off his head and hair out of its bun. 

“That’s a yes then, Ruoye?” Xie Lian says, pulling his hair back into something manageable. 

‘Ruoye’ does another twirl, resettling on Xie Lian’s neck. He smiles sadly at the affirmation, guilt eating away at him. Ruoye really has been supportive, even when all he wanted was to see it gone. His guilt doesn’t change the fact that he thinks Ruoye is the most fitting name for a thing of such character. 

So simple and innocent looking, and yet born of something so terrible. Like evil, Ruoye is, and so it is named. 

It does roll off the tongue in a soft sort of way, Xie Lian supposes.

“Ruoye.” Xie Lian levels a stern stare at the bandage, which holds out the fruit like some sort of offering. “Where did you steal that from.” 

Ruoye makes no motion to confirm it heard Xie Lian, simply nudging his hand with the fruit. Obligingly, he opens his palm for Ruoye to deposit the stolen sweet in. Having food in his hands reminds his stomach that he hasn’t eaten in- actually he doesn’t know when his last actual meal was. Times lately have been hard. Busking is out of style, there are no small jobs available, and the few coins he had scrounged up were given to that woman who tried to stab him in an alley. His reflexes were still sharp, and the woman had nearly ended up with a broken arm because of them. The coins had been the least he could give her in exchange. 

Xie Lian sighs. “Ruoye.” 

Ruoye tilts, scrunching up one end in a way Xie Lian suspects is its way of looking cute, given how often it does it when Xie Lian scolds it. 

“You cannot steal.” 

Ruoye goes to slip back into his sleeve, but Xie Lian grabs it before it escapes completely. “I’ve told you before this is wrong. It doesn’t matter if I don’t have food you can’t go around stealing from people trying to make a living.” 

Falling limp, Ruoye curls its edge around his palm, as if hiding from his words. Such a bratty little thing, Ruoye has become. 

“Next time we go into town I’m keeping you around my hand,” he declares, and Ruoye tugs against him. To the bandage’s credit, it nearly has enough strength to break from Xie Lian’s ironclad grip, but they both know in the end, it’s a useless effort. Only a few tugs and it gives up, resorting to tapping against his thumb pleadingly. 

Xie Lian holds onto it for a moment more before letting Ruoye go. It’s taken a liking to staying wrapped around his wrist, as it does now. He suspects it’s so that it can have easy access to the outside world whenever it wants. Ruoye has gotten far too good at going unnoticed when it sneaks out a strand, using its seemingly endless length to its advantage. Recently it has found a hobby in stealing valuables, food and shiny things, to present them to Xie Lian. 

His stomach rumbles, clenching painfully with the action. Xie Lian looks at the fruit again. They’re far past the town it would have come from- Ruoye gets slyer with every passing day. Going back to return one fruit...he should, he really should. But it is only a single fruit and his stomach is an ever painful void. 

The fruit is devastatingly sweet on his tongue, and all regrets promptly make themselves scarce. It is too small, gone too quickly, but it gives his stomach something to chew on. It grumbles for more, and Xie Lian licks his lips, savoring the traces of juice there. He’ll try and hunt something down later, using Ruoye’s help. 

He’ll definitely scold Ruoye more too, but he can’t help the wave of gratitude for the food. 

Some days, Xie Lian wakes up and everything is too much. He doesn’t want to move, to speak; he barely wants to breathe. 

Laying in the dirt, he exhales, chest clenching painfully as if an unseen boulder rests upon it. He looks up at the morning sky, breathtakingly clear. Inexplicably, his eyes sting at the sight. 

Xie Lian is lying here, in the dirt, in his filthy clothes that are far too loose, and could keep doing so for a millenium. There was no point to doing anything, for if living is an atonement, then he can simply keep living here, untethered and bothered only by the natural elements.

What a terrifying thought. 

Something brushes against his face, wiping up the cold lines of tears. Xie Lian glances down to see Ruoye there and something in him lurches. He closes his eyes, fighting off the nausea. 

“Don’t…” He murmurs, and Ruoye pauses in its ministrations. “Just don’t.” 

Eyes closed, he can feel Ruoye go back under his clothes and wrap around his chest. It too, knows what these days entail. When Xie Lian can’t stand to look at it. 

Xie Lian opens his eyes, staring emptily into the sky above. 

Sometimes, this life really isn’t worth it. 

“Ruoye,” Xie Lian mumbles, words slurred by the toxin. Out of everything he could have tried to eat, the first thing he chose happened to be poisonous. He should have figured given his luck. “Please make sure nothing eats me.” 

The last time this had happened some wolves had come upon him, and Xie Lian isn’t keen to repeat the experience. Hopefully asking Ruoye will be enough to convince the bandage to do so, because his stomach is cramping viciously even as his vision swims. 

It’ll probably take about a week for his body to recover from this, give or take. He’s tested how he builds tolerance to poison once before, out of curiosity and boredom. It had only taken a dozen or so times for him to be left standing once the poison hit his system. The first time had left him out for what felt like a month, though to be fair he has no way to be sure of that. 

Ruoye unfurls, circling around him. Xie Lian can hear the protective hum of spiritual power and closes his eyes, knowing he’s safe.

Waking up is a slow affair. The world returning to him in splashes of color and pinpricks of sound. When he finds the strength to sit up, all thoughts of relief are immediately washed away by pure terror. 

Ruoye sits on his lap, torn and bloodied. 

“Ruoye?” Xie Lian picks it up carefully, gently, making no attempt to hide how bad his hands are shaking. “Ruoye, can you hear me? Ruoye?”

Ruoye doesn’t move. It doesn’t even twitch.

What could have-

Xie Lian sees the beast on the ground, legs and neck clearly broken. It’s some sort of demonic boar, complete with overgrown tusks and a height that would have towered over him had it still been alive. 

Xie Lian gathers Ruoye as quickly as he dares, ignoring the beast now that he knows what hurt the bandage. 

He scrambles down the mountain, skidding on hands and feet as he practically leaps from one point to the next. If he can sew Ruoye back together, maybe that will save it. Where was the last town he passed through?

At the base now, Xie Lian looks right, then left, then back again. East, South, West, which direction is it? He can’t remember. Ruoye might be gone and he can’t even remember what direction they came from. 

Fine, he’ll just pick a direction and run. He has to come across a town somewhere. Cradling Ruoye close to his chest, Xie Lian takes one steadying breath. He needs to be calmer if he wants to run as quickly as possible. Ignoring his aching muscles, tired from a week spent without food and water, fighting off poison, he summons every bit of strength he has and pushes with his heels. 

Landscape blurring around him, Xie Lian doesn’t bother to keep track of distance or time as he puts every ounce of himself into taking one step more, going a few more meters. 

When the sun is more than halfway across the sky, Xie Lian catches his first sign of hope. Slamming his feet into the ground, his sudden stop sends him tumbling across the ground. He curls the moment he feels himself fall forwards, wrapping his body around Ruoye. It’s already nearly torn through, if it were to tear completely, would he have any chance of bringing it back? 

Jumping to his feet, Xie Lian races towards the small collection of houses he had spotted from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t bother fixing his appearance or filthy robes, bamboo hat strung around his shoulders. 

“Do you have a needle and thread?” He desperately asks the first man he sees. All he gets is a wary look and the shake of the head. The next person gives him a similar answer, as does the house after that. 

By the time he’s reached the tenth person, he can feel the tears gathering in his eyes. All because of his cursed luck, he’s going to lose the only thing he has left. 

Ruoye is still lifeless in his trembling hands. 

Xie Lian bites his tongue hard enough it bleeds, and that is what gets the revelation through his fogged brain. 

Ruoye was born in part from his blood; could his blood revive it? 

Xie Lian tosses things out of the small pouch he carries with him, looking for that old rusty knife he had found earlier this month. Where to stab though? He needed to see what he was doing to ensure Ruoye got the blood, but he needed somewhere that would really bleed too. 

Leg it is then, Xie Lian decides, finally pulling the knife out of the bag. Sitting there in the middle of the town, he doesn’t hesitate to stab it down into his thigh through his robes, trying his best to aim for where the most blood would be spilt. When he pulls the knife out, he cuts through his robes as well, giving access straight to the wound. Blood gushes, running down his leg in maroon streams. He shoves Ruoye against it, the mottled white and dried brown quickly staining red. 

“Daozhang. Daozhang!” 

Xie Lian’s head snaps up, looking at the young man who shouted at him. He looks like a farmer, weathered skin and clothes lined with old dirt. Xie Lian says nothing, waiting to see what the man has come to say. 

“Here, A-Li says she heard you asking for a thread and needle. Please don’t stab yourself.” The young man holds out  his hand, and it takes Xie Lian a long moment to pick out the long needle and spool of thread sitting there. He takes it, careful not to prick his fingers. 

“Thank you.” Xie Lian’s voice is quiet, even to his own ears and ah, the tears are coming now. It’s always these little moments that get to him, the simple acts of kindness that he cherishes most. “Thank you so much.” 

“It’s really no problem- come inside? We can help with your wound too,” The man offers, holding out a hand. Uselessly, Xie Lian scrubs at his cheeks. He collects Ruoye in his arms, pushing off the ground to stand. 

“Here let me help, you-” The man pauses, blinking as Xie Lian stands perfectly on his stabbed leg, face unchanging as he puts weight on it. “You’re injured,” the man says, hands outstretched, unsure of what to do. 

“It’s okay,” Xie Lian says. “It isn’t too bad.” 

The man pales at that, and Xie Lian can guess the shock and disbelief running through his head, not many could be as stone faced as the fallen god. He stays close as he guides Xie Lian to his house, as if expecting Xie Lian to collapse at any moment. Xie Lian keeps glancing at Ruoye, searching for any sign of life. While the bandages are absorbing the blood, now a light pink, it still hasn’t moved. 

As they enter, a young woman looks up, takes in the sight of them, and hisses, “A-Gang you weren’t supposed to- Daozhang, your leg?” 

“He was hurt,” A-Gang says to explain, gesturing to a bench in the far corner. Xie Lian murmurs his thanks once more before quickly sitting down so he can unravel Ruoye and find the tear. He fumbles with the needle, unsure. He’s never held one before, never learned how to sew his own clothes past clumsy patch jobs. But he must get this right, for his own sake as well as Ruoye’s. 

“Daozhang,” A gentle voice says, and it is only then that Xie Lian realizes he’s started crying more intensely. He looks up, meeting the eyes of the young woman. “Do you want me to help you fix your bandages? We can help patch your leg up too.” 

“Please,” Xie Lian croaks, too tired and scared to bother putting up his deflections and air of serenity. He’s too honest, open and bare. “I have to fix it.” 

“Okay, I can show you how to sew while A-Gang gets some herbs for your leg,” the woman says, settling down beside him. “I’m Fang Li, my husband is Wang Gang.” 

“Xie Lian,” he greets, natural politeness making way through the tangle of emotions. “Thank you again for your kindness and hospitality.” 

“I couldn’t leave it be,” Fang Li says softly, taking the needle and thread from him. “Now, have you ever sewn before?” 

Xie Lian shakes his head. Sniffling as he pulls himself together enough to watch Fang Li’s meticulous instructions. He hands Ruoye over with some reluctance, fear overriding common sense. Fang Li is gentle with the both of them though, and over time, his tears fade, leaving him embarrassed that they were ever there to begin with. 

Wang Gang comes back at some point with medicine, and Xie Lian lets him slather it onto his thigh without a second thought, staring instead at the way Fang Li is carefully stitching Ruoye back together. 

With astonishing quickness, the last stitch is tied and tightened, breath caught in his throat, Xie Lian waits. 

It happens all at once, Ruoye giving a full length shudder before it floats unsteadily upwards. Xie Lian doesn’t bother to register the couple’s horror, picking Ruoye up and wrapping the bandage around his upper arm by hand. Ruoye doesn’t even resist the manhandling, speaking to the damage it has taken. It does wave one end at Xie Lian, patting his arm before going still once more. 

“D-daozhang?” 

Xie Lian stands up, smiling with a small bow. “Thank you again for your help. If there’s anything I can do to repay you, I’d be happy to do it.” 

“No, no,” Wang Gang says. “It’s just...your bandage it…” 

“It’s okay, Ruoye has been imbued with a spirit, but it’s harmless,” Xie Lian says, expression betraying nothing about the blatant lie he had tacked onto the end of that declaration. 

The two share a glance, clearly debating the risk of simply kicking him out. Xie Lian doesn’t mind. It’s only natural after all. 

An agreement is made between them, Fang Li turning to ask, “Why don’t you stay for dinner? We have plenty of food tonight.” 

Xie Lian blinks, uncomprehending for an embarrassingly long moment. His stomach, however, reacts to the thought of food viscerally. Right, he hasn't’ eaten or drank anything since he passed out. “If you’re sure- please, don’t feel obligated.” 

“No offense Daozhang, but you look like you could use a good meal,” Fang Li returns, smiling sadly. 

Xie Lian concedes to that, muttering, “I suppose I have had a long day.” 

“It’s settled then,” Wang Gang says, clapping Xie Lian on the shoulder. 

That night, when Xie Lian leaves, stomach full and with a new thread and needle, he bows deep and low. He doesn’t dare pray for their fortune, knowing the chain around his ankle, but he wishes for their own prayers to be answered. 

Xie Lian coughs, blood spilling out his mouth and dripping down his chin. He can’t go to wipe it off, seeing as ripping his hands away from the nails that pin them down is a task he doesn’t have the energy for. His heart beats in time to white hot flashes of pain- pain he hadn’t thought himself capable of feeling anymore. 

Inside three layers of coffin, he can’t see that well even with how long he’s been down here. He can trace the outline of Ruoye as it flits around and brushes against his arms and legs. It probably isn’t happy to be stuck in here with him. 

“Sorry Ruoye, but I think I’m gonna stay here a while.” 

It’s so exhausting, wandering around up there, wondering where his next meal would come from or where he could stay that had the least chances of collapsing on him. In here, it is only him, Ruoye, and the pain that he knows he can become accustomed to. 

Xie Lian grimaces as the stake in his heart somehow seems to drive even deeper. He really should get that out sooner rather than later. 

Mm, he’ll sleep more first though. Gather some more strength and then he can take all the nails and stakes out. Maybe then he can just sleep for a couple decades, spend the time at peace. 

When he closes his eyes, Lang Qianqiu’s face, twisted in rage and sorrow, flashes before him. Being Yong’an’s Guoshi had been something surprisingly enjoyable. Politics were something more distant to a Guoshi, who mostly served as an advisor to royals. He’d forgotten how fun it was to teach cultivation and martial arts, especially to a crowd of starry eyed disciples who never learned to whisper quietly about what they thought was underneath his mask.  

Lang Qianqiu is something special though. He’ll ascend one day, Xie Lian is sure of it. He’s young, brash, honest to a fault, so much so that Xie Lian can’t help but see himself mirrored in the boy. 

That fact makes him glad to be here now. Lang Qianqiu doesn’t have to face the endless questions of what is right and what is wrong. He’ll be sure to bring peace to the remnants of Xian Le in Yong’an. 

An era of peace in exchange for his students and the country’s animosity. As perfect an exchange as could be made. 

The last thing he feels is Ruoye’s feather light brush against his forehead before he drifts off. 

Xie Lian kneels on the ground, legs too weak to hold himself up. He isn’t crying, he isn’t doing much of anything, barely cognizant of how his fingers dig into the flesh of his arm and draw blood. 

The girl he had been sent to find by her worried family. She had been acting strange, despondent and distant. They had feared a spirit had taken her. 

No spirit had claimed her. 

Her feet are about at his eye level, dangling limply. She must have done it a while ago, Xie Lian notes distantly.

Xie Lian is 24 again, walking into the room to his parents strung up in the rafters. 

Time passes, Xie Lian unaware of how long he kneels. A band of white nudges his shoulder before waving one end under his nose. 

“Go away.” Xie Lian mutters, looking up. Ruoye follows the motion. Xie Lian grabs the bandage with one hand and tears it off him. 

“Get out!” He’s screaming, distant to his ringing ears. “ You let them die. You- you- 

Ruoye lags in its small circles, slipping away behind the nearby trees. Xie Lian turns away, eyes trained on the ground so he doesn’t have to see- 

There’s a loud thump. He can see the hint of finger in the corner of his eye, the excess length of rope trailing closer. It’s cut cleanly. 

Xie Lian pauses at that. A different kind of dread flooding his system. “Ruoye,” he calls, shaking worse than he had before. “Ruoye come out- come back.” Head in his hands, this time the tears start to fall. “Don’t leave me- you’re all I have left you can’t leave me.”

“Please…” He’s on his knees again, not remembering how he got there. All he can think of is how easy it would be for the bandage to slip away- he had told it to go, screamed at it in a way he hadn’t done in centuries. But no matter how vile he thinks it, no matter how bloodstained it is, he can’t bear to think of a life without its quiet presence. “...Please don’t leave me.” 

A brush against his arm, one that evolves into a firm hold as it wraps further up, sends all the air from his lungs, as if he’s been punched in the gut. In a way he has, dizzy with relief. Ruoye is still here- it’s still here.  

Xie Lian can’t bring himself to look at it, all too aware of the bile that will rise in his mouth if he does. Instead he half collapses, rolling over to look up as he wipes his face on his sleeve. 

He needs to get the girl’s body back to her family. Debate whether he should spare them the truth or not as he tells them how he found her. Like Ruoye though, he can’t bear to look at her body right now. 

Xie Lian puts a hand over his eyes and breathes through the tears still leaking. 

“You ready, Ruoye?” Xie Lian asks as they approach the city. Ruoye unfurls from around his neck, swaying in the same style as the vipers Xie Lian had made it study on their way here. 

He was quite proud of the fact that only 3 of the snakes had both been venomous and managed to bite him.

Anyways, Ruoye can now imitate them to an uncanny degree. It was a quick study once it knew what Xie Lian was trying to teach it and had proper motivation. Even after all this time, the threat to spend the days trapped in Xie Lian’s grip was an effective one. He’s also taken to splashing Ruoye with water, forcing the bandage to spend the day airing out so it could dry faster. 

“Thank you again, I appreciate it,” he says sincerely, bringing Ruoye up to eye level as he strokes it. In exchange, Ruoye zips around his chest in a hug. 

The gesture isn’t enough to move him to tears like it had the first few times Ruoye had done it, copying the rare hugs he got from the people he helped, but part of him still feels like it's crumbling away, soggy with regret and longing. 

Still, he keeps smiling, happy enough that Ruoye kept up with the hugs. He really is lucky to have something like Ruoye, so lucky he doesn’t know how to put it into words. 

As they get near, Xie Lian urges Ruoye back into his sleeve. “Only come out when I start playing, okay? Like we practiced.” 

Ruoye shakes up and down twice in a nod, another thing it has picked up from its exposure to people. Bandage secure on his upper arm, Xie Lian nods to the guards at the city gate, obligingly holding out his arms for inspection. All they find are his bandages, Ruoye included although they don’t know as much, his flute, and his pouch of coin that they take as a fee. 

Wistfully, Xie Lian watches his money disappear into their pockets. Getting it back will be too much of a fuss. And if all goes well here, he should make enough to eat some good food for a change. 

Xie Lian had gotten the idea for snake charming from the capital- or what he thinks was the capital. He doesn’t think much of names anymore, they all blur together regardless so why bother remembering them? Either way, the last city had that big fancy palace, so it was likely the capital, and Xie Lian had witnessed firsthand how popular the snake charmers were. Maybe it was a new trend he managed to pick up on before it went out of style. 

This city would be the testing grounds for that. With a flute he had bartered for along the way and Ruoye as his snake, he plans to make a show of things. As long as no one looked too closely at Ruoye, he could pretend to have even kept a snake in his sleeves. It’s ingenious, really. 

In the midafternoon heat, however, few are in the streets. Xie Lian takes his time meandering up and down the roads, looking for an ideal spot. Eventually he finds one not already taken by another busker. It isn’t great, but it isn’t terrible either, tucked away in between market vendors and a line of homes. 

He meditates, bamboo hat sheltering him from the sun, until dusk starts to arrive and the streets become more alive. A gaggle of curious children run up to him, one asking, “Mister who are you?” 

“I’m a snake charmer,” Xie Lian says, setting his hat down with as much flourish as he can muster. He takes out his flute, and the children all back a safe distance aways, eyes wide. 

He plays a simple tune on the flute, one that’s complete nonsense but doesn’t sound terrible to the ears. Perfectly in sync, Ruoye sways out of his sleeve, curling in pleasure as the children gasp. 

The crowd of captivated children soon attracts the attention of their parents, and the others around them. Soon enough, Xie Lian has a decent crowd around him. Ruoye basks in the attention, swaying and unfurling in all sorts of grand moves a real snake never would have thought of. It curls around his shoulders, slithering one of his arms so it could hang off the limb while it bobbed to the notes. 

Thanks to Ruoye, he has decent funds as the crowd naturally disperses. Once the sun has completely set, Xie Lian charms his “snake” into going back into his sleeve before bowing and giving his thanks to the remaining people. 

The money is quickly gathered and counted as he puts it into his pouch. It’s far more than he’s had in years. 

“Let’s get a treat, shall we?” Xie Lian says happily, humming to himself as he puts his flute away. 

Ruoye is quiet around his arm, likely tired from all the acting it had to do. Xie Lian promises to buy the first nice fabric cleaner he finds for it, as a personal reward for the work. 

Smiling, Xie Lian moves to enjoy the city. 

“General Hua!” 

Xie Lian throws Banyue far away from the two armies, hoping that the river will soften her landing. Both sides are far too enraged to mind anything in their way, let alone a little girl. Unfortunately, the sight of him rushing to save her only made them charge faster. He supposes the Yong’an soldiers have tired of him sparing innocents from the “barbarians,” while the Banyuen army likely thinks him arrogant, going in to save one of their own. 

For anyone else, there would be no time to think, but for Xie Lian, who only saw both armies as an oncoming nuisance, pondered what to do. He could get up and fight, sick with memories of his first war, even as he spared bloodshed here, or he could simply...let the armies trample him. It would hurt, sure, but he would be free of this war at long last. 

As for Banyue, there is little Xie Lian could do for her as a soldier, even less so on his own. He hopes she’ll be okay, and wasn’t too hurt by the throw. 

“Ruoye,” Xie Lian says, just in case the bandage gets any ideas. “Don’t attack, no matter what.” 

Ruoye clenches his chest once. Xie Lian can feel how it extends further to wrap around his neck and limbs. 

And then the armies are upon him. 

Xie Lian is stepped and stabbed and beaten upon in the ensuing conflict. The agony registers as a dull, distant thing, building with each consecutive wound until he takes a hard enough kick to the head that the world slips into merciful darkness. 

When he comes to, spluttering water, he only has enough strength to aim himself towards the shore. Ruoye probably does most of the work, even as soaked and dragged down as they both are. Once on land, at least halfway so, he shuts his eyes and drifts back to sleep to escape the way his body throbs from the top of his head to his toes with every breath. 

The second time awakening is no less painful than the second, but now his vision is clearer, his eyes having the time to heal. He notes, surprised, that Ruoye is wrapped everywhere besides his face. Awareness of his limbs trickles back to him, and his heart clenches as he realizes Ruoye is keeping the limbs in place and the flesh together as to let him heal easier. 

He goes to thank Ruoye, but the words don’t make it past his throat, which still wheezes and crunches, having been crushed. 

Well, Xie Lian will make sure it’s the first thing he does once his throat is in working order. For now, he closes his eyes once more, wondering how long he’ll spend asleep while his body patches itself together. 

Xie Lian holds out a hand to the stray.cat, who delicately sniffs it before rubbing its cheek along the offered limb. The sight brings a smile, happy that the gray tabby hasn’t decided he isn’t worth the trouble even after the overhang they had slept under last night to collapse from a chance bolt of lightning. He had protected the tabby of course, along with the other cats and stray dog that had also huddled near for warmth. The weight of wood and banners on his back was a bearable one, especially for the sake of their precious lives. 

No longer content with only a hand, the tabby brushes against his arm, back arching up into his palm. Obligingly, he scratches it, careful not to brush too hard against its injured leg. An old one, gained long before Xie Lian came upon this town, but it hurts nonetheless. 

He, out of everyone, understands that aching sort of pain. His shoulders and back are probably still hurting from yesterday. Well, he’s sure the work he did today certainly didn’t help them. Either way, a small pain such as that isn’t something he can really feel anymore, even if he knows his body well enough to realize that it should be there. 

An insistent meow brings him back, finding gray paws placed demandingly on his lap. 

“Yes yes, of course you can stay, young master cat,” Xie Lian says, putting on airs for the sake of it. This town is one of the crueler ones, hit hard by poverty and the demands of a distant lord who owns the land. The people barely have enough to trust each other, let alone some stranger who has encroached on their lives. It’s good that the overhang last night was part of an abandoned building. He knows better than to take his chances with anywhere owned. Unless he’s there under deplorable conditions- deplorable to others at least, it was all fine to him, uncomfortable sometimes, but fine- his shackle ensured that sooner or later, something miserable befell the whole building. 

Out on the streets, it takes longer for the lack of luck to catch up to him. And usually its effects are limited to just him instead of innocent inhabitants. Him and the bundle of fur in his lap that is. The tabby is purring something fierce, loud enough for it to warm his chest. He strokes its back in calm, repetitive motions. Sleep doesn’t feel like it will come easy tonight, but Xie Lian is content to simply watch the stars drift by as he comforts the animals. 

There are plenty of holes in the roof of the building, with matching decor on the walls as well. He likes to think it’s nice having a steady breeze. It isn’t much different from last night spent under the overhang, only less rain, which is a blessing. 

Something brushes against him with a soft meow, and Xie Lian smiles down at the one-eyed calico kitten that greets him. 

“Did you manage to find food today?” He asks, and gets a plaintive mew in return. He hums, sympathetic. The bowl of rice porridge was hardly filling, taste more similar to rocks than anything food related- trust him, he would know. This body could, in fact, digest the things, although not without giving him a stomach ache that made the last ditch attempt to ease the pangs of hunger ultimately backfire. He might have shared the porridge with the cats if they had been around. He wonders if their stomachs could handle the concoction. 

The calico kitten paws at his sleeve, little claws batting against the fabric. Xie Lian giggles, asking, “Do you want to play with your friend?” 

Tapping at his sleeve, he calls, “Ruoye, you’ve got a visitor.” 

The bandage unravels, sticking one end out of his sleeve in a way that can only be described as curious. It’s clear the moment it notes the kitten though- Xie Lian has yet to figure out how the bandage does so. Possibly through sensing qi, but that fails to explain the grace that Ruoye shows when waving in front of the kitten, just far enough away that the kitten has to go on its back legs to try and bat at it. 

Xie Lian watches them play, petting the tabby all the while. Ruoye has great fun slipping away from the kitten and waiting for it to pinpoint where the bandage has gone before scampering after it to pounce. 

During their antics, the companions from last night make their appearance. A gray cat, this one with blue eyes that Xie Lian thinks might be a sibling to the tabby, curls up on top of said tabby and enjoys the same dose of affection. The mutt, a ruffled brown dog missing its tail, appears last, this time with another dog in tow. For a brief moment, the new dog, a small little scruffy thing with badly beaten ears, stares down the kitten and Ruoye. Strays have no energy to waste on their own kind though, and a whine from the mutt is enough to pull the ruffian’s attention to Xie Lian instead. 

Another stare down begins, with Xie Lian smart enough not to meet the dog’s eyes directly, keeping his gaze directed to the ruffian’s paws. However, judgement is only passed when the mutt licks at Xie Lian’s cheek, tongue wet and smelly. He scratches it behind the ears, which soon turns into a full body scratch to help with the bugs. The ruffian is slower to join, but eventually succumbs to Xie Lian’s quiet calm and promise of nice scratches. 

It doesn’t take long for the kitten to tire of games, too thin for extended playtime. Ruoye dutifully leads it back at Xie Lian’s request. Too tired to even attempt and join the other two cats, the kitten flops against his leg before he scoops it up and lets it settle in his arms. The dogs are saddened by the loss of his hands but they’re tired as well, curling around him. 

Last to settle is Ruoye, who makes sure to touch each animal before sliding back to its favorite spot around Xie Lian’s arm.

Tonight is a good night, Xie Lian thinks, looking up at the stars, surrounded by warmth. 

Xie Lian can feel Ruoye restless under his skin as he smiles at San Lang. The bandage has been making passes at the poor boy all day, prevented only by Xie Lian recognizing the signs and stopping the bandage accordingly. 

When the boy turns away to pick through a pile of junk left out by some wealthy townspeople, Xie Lian lifts his sleeve and mutters, “Ruoye stop it. He’s helping us don’t be rude-” Xie Lian narrows his eyes as Ruoye waggles an end in San Lang’s direction, hitting the air with emphasis. “I don’t care if he’s probably a ghost, he’s still being kind to us so settle down before you spend the day in my hand again.” 

That gets Ruoye to pull back, though with a sulky air as it clings to his arm with more force than necessary. Xie Lian sighs, putting his sleeve down as he gets back to work. Ghost or not, he doesn’t understand Ruoye’s apparent obsession with lashing out at the boy. 

The warning, unfortunately, does not stop the bandage from swatting at San Lang later that night, when Xie Lian is distracted trying to hide his curse shackles as he takes off his outer robe. In exchange it is banished to spend the night in the corner instead of snuggled up to Xie Lian. 

Xie Lian decides to turn a blind eye to the way Ruoye is clearly enjoying having Qi Rong in its clutches. It smacks and prods at the ghost’s unprotected face as it sulks about having to keep such a gross thing tied up. 

Qi Rong curses and howls at Ruoye, making Xie Lian’s eyebrows raise more than once as he cooks dinner for everyone. Truly, his younger cousin’s mouth has only gotten more foul with age. There go all the excuses that his mother made for him as a child, that he would eventually “grow up and level out.” The thought of his mother makes Xie Lian’s face fall. After all his parents did for Qi Rong he still- he dared-

At least his parents’ bodies had gotten 800 years of rest. That will have to be enough. 

“The ties are being mean to daddy,” Guzi, the poor child, says in between sniffles, tugging pitifully at Xie Lian’s sleeve. 

“It’s okay, Ruoye’s just teasing him a bit,” Xie Lian says, patting Guzi on the head while ignoring the way Ruoye tugs at Qi Rong’s hair. 

Xie Lian can tell Ruoye off later, when his heart isn’t as bitter and resentful towards his cousin. 

“You have a good spiritual weapon,” Hua Cheng says, watching Ruoye float around E-Ming, which lays on the floor vibrating with annoyance. 

“Hm?” Xie Lian looks up from where he had been sorting through offerings. “Ruoye is quite incredible- though your E-Ming is very powerful itself.” 

Hua Cheng waves a derisive hand, “You give it too much credit gege. It’s really nothing special.” 

E-Ming shoots upwards at that, red eye narrowing in unmistakable anger. Xie Lian smiles as it flies towards a nonchalant Hua Cheng, who easily smacks it to the ground. It trembles, eye wavering as if shedding tears. 

“Don’t be mean, San Lang,” Xie Lian says, coming over to pick E-Ming up by the handle. “E-Ming is a very special weapon. Truly, there isn’t another like it.” 

The sword, with both his gentle touch and words, has begun shaking once more, eye spinning wildly. Xie Lian pats it a few times, looking up to see Hua Cheng watching them with a strange expression. 

“Do you want it back?” Xie Lian offers E-Ming, even as the sword closes its eye in defiance. 

Hua Cheng shakes his head. “Gege can hold E-Ming as long as he likes.”

Xie Lian beams. He hasn’t gotten nearly enough time to examine the weapon up close. The band of white that slides to float above E-Ming draws his thoughts away. Ruoye does its best to completely hide the sword from Xie Lian’s sight, ignoring the fact that he’s already holding it. 

“Ruoye, no need to be jealous,” Xie Lian says with barely repressed chuckles. He shifts E-Ming into one hand, grabbing Ruoye with the other. “You and San Lang can get to know each other.” 

He holds out Ruoye to Hua Cheng, the bandage struggling futilely. Hua Cheng blinks a moment, looking between Ruoye and Xie Lian. 

“Unless you don’t want to!” Xie Lian says quickly. “I know Ruoye is a bit...much.” 

“Of course I want to greet gege’s spiritual weapon,” Hua Cheng says, long fingers wrapping around Ruoye. The bandage stills, twisting in his grip but not trying to escape. Xie Lian is reminded of their time in the desert, where Ruoye had gone obediently still under Hua Cheng’s guidance. 

Xie Lian pets E-Ming, looking closer at the peony designs etched into its hilt, but he can feel most of his attention on Hua Cheng and Ruoye. It’s strange to feel so nervous over a simple meeting. The thought of Ruoye lashing out at Hua Cheng troubles him, or worse, Hua Cheng wanting nothing to do with Ruoye. He really hopes they can get along, not knowing what he would do if the two couldn’t stand each other.  

Ruoye, to its credit, does not immediately move to smack Hua Cheng upside the head. It pokes and prods at Hua Cheng’s hands and arms for a few minutes. After, it quickly threads itself through Hua Cheng’s fingers, the ghost king moving each one to accommodate for Ruoye as it does. Once entangled in Hua Cheng’s hands, it goes completely dormant. 

Hua Cheng’s realization that the bandage doesn’t plan on doing anything else is shown by his empty stare down at his trapped hands. “Gege?” He asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“It likes you, San Lang,” Xie Lian explains through his chuckling. “Ruoye has always liked those with especially soft hands- it likes women and girls because of that too.” 

Hua Cheng is oddly quiet, staring at Xie Lian with a shining eye and a matching grin. Clearly pleased, he says, “Gege thinks I have soft hands?” 

“I- uh- well- it’s more of an objective thing, your...hands…” Xie Lian splutters, realizing just how embarrassing he had been. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything-”

“It’s okay gege, I’m glad you like them,” Hua Cheng says, petting Ruoye instead of focusing on Xie Lian’s slip up. 

It is only weeks later, when Xie Lian is replaying the conversation in the privacy of his mind, that Hua Cheng had said that he likes Hua Cheng’s hands. And Xie Lian- he- he- 

Well, Hua Cheng’s hands were very smooth and soft. It’s only natural for Xie Lian and Ruoye to like them in comparison to his own callus ridden ones. 

“Just give it to me,” Mu Qing says, holding out an expect hand towards Ruoye. Xie Lian blinks, glancing between the two of them. 

“Really you don’t have to, I’m familiar with patching Ruoye up,” he says, but Mu Qing simply raises an eyebrow. 

“Given the state you live in, it’s probably a shabby job anyways.” 

“Like you have anything to insult your ‘f-f-friend’ about,” Feng Xin says from behind him, smiling. 

Mu Qing whips around, ears tinged with pink. “Shut up!” 

Feng Xin laughs, more amusement than ire backing it. “I always knew you were chasing after him like some prickly cat- 800 years to get you to admit it.” 

Without another word, Mu Qing launches himself at Feng Xin, the two tumbling down the side of Mount Taicang with worrying speed. Xie Lian walks after them, opening his mouth to try and separate them before closing it. There really isn’t anything he can do about this, so he looks over Ruoye again, examining the worn length of bandage. He can see the evidence of his centuries of patchwork, lines and patches of off color white. Mu Qing would probably be able to smooth it out, return it to looking whole and far cleaner than Xie Lian could. 

In the meantime, he wraps Ruoye around his neck loosely and returns to his garden. He’s still deciding on what to plant, far too embarrassed to admit out loud that he’s trying to find plants that remind him of Hua Cheng.

Xie Lian grabs his necklace, holding the ring tight in his hand. San Lang will return. He will. 

“Your Highness.” Mu Qing’s voice, even breathless and tapered off with a cough, is easily recognizable as it sounds from behind him. 

“Are you two done?” Xie Lian asks, watching Mu Qing roll his eyes with a wave of nostalgia. 

“For now,” Mu Qing says, smirking as Feng Xin clambers next to him, bun undone and dirt lining his face. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Mu Qing,” Xie Lian says, cutting in before it can devolve into another argument. “I’d appreciate it if you could patch Ruoye up.” 

“Hmph, fine fine it shouldn’t take too long,” Mu Qing huffs, crossing his arms. “Anyways, you’re really going to stay here?” Mu Qing scans the humble home Xie Lian has built with no small amount of disdain. 

“Yes, I am,” Xie Lian does the best to keep the hard edge out of his voice, though he thinks his efforts are only partially successful, still too steeped in memories of the Cave of a Thousand Gods. He knows better now, what had driven Mu Qing, but the slight is still there, lingering. 

“You aren’t built to be some sort of housewife,” Mu Qing grumbles. “Don’t just act like one and never go anywhere.” 

Xie Lian blinks, capable of picking out the concern underlying the scathing tone, then smiles. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be okay.” 

Feng Xin breaks out into laughter, smacking Mu Qing’s shoulder. “He saw right through your bullshit. You can’t act so high and mighty now you ass.” 

Mu Qing snaps something back that Xie Lian filters out as background noise, already turning away again so he can think more about what flowers to put in the front of the garden. 

Eventually, the two settle down and Ruoye is gently handed off. Xie Lian watches them go, one hand absentmindedly grabbing at his wrist. He can’t remember a time when him and Ruoye were apart like this, it’s a strange feeling, one bordering panic. 

Taking a deep breath, Xie Lian moves his grip back to the ring. They’ll both come back.

Xie Lian isn’t alone, not anymore. 

When Mu Qing brings Ruoye back a few days later, it shoots away from where it had been twisting around Mu Qing’s hands, wrapping itself around Xie Lian’s wrist in a grip that might have crushed the arm of someone less divine. Xie Lian notes that it didn’t even give Mu Qing a smack like it had been so prone to do when he was (poorly) disguised as Fu Yao. 

“That thing is far too powerful,” Mu Qing says, eyeing Xie Lian’s wrist with wariness. “It wouldn’t stop trying to break out until I got a hand on it.” 

Xie Lian strokes Ruoye, smiling. “I hope Ruoye wasn’t too bad for you.” 

Mu Qing snorts, waving a hand dismissively. “As if I can’t handle a measly bandage.” 

Xie Lian huffs a laugh at that, patting Ruoye as it bristles.

Xie Lian blinks. Blinks again, just to be sure it isn’t yet another dream. The wind rustling through his hair is too biting to be imagined though, and he can smell the dyed forest, earthy yet light. Around him, lanterns glow. Thousands and thousands of lanterns adrift in the night sky. The sight brings tears to his eyes before he even realizes he wants to cry. 

There is only one person who had ever done this for him. 

Ruoye tightens around his arm, excitedly slipping one end up through his robes to circle around his neck as Xie Lian abandons the ox and cart in favor of scrambling uphill. He doesn’t think he’s run faster in his life, save for a year ago, when he had been searching so desperately for Hua Cheng. 

Xie Lian had told Hua Cheng he trusted him to come back, and he did, he did , no matter how hard a concept it was to believe. He had told himself he could wait 10, 100, 1000 years for Hua Cheng in turn. 

He wakes up every morning and wonders if Hua Cheng would like the little house Xie Lian has built for them, under the pretense of building it for himself. He isn’t as good with his hands as he would like to be for Hua Cheng, he hasn’t bothered to try in so long, knowing that his luck would inevitably tear it down. 

For Hua Cheng though, Xie Lian knows there is nothing he wouldn’t do. 

He reaches the final hill before the flat plateau that the house rests on, takes a single breath, and truly pushes with one foot. In a single step, he’s at the peak. He can see the small, cozy home he had built, the dyed maple leaves that fall around it. 

It might as well not exist though, because all he sees is the blinding, gloriously rich red robes of the pale figure as he lifts his hands to release the final lantern. Gold decorates the pale gray shades of his arms and cheeks. Xie Lian can see just the barest hint of the eyepatch, framed with dark black hair. 

Hua Cheng’s head picks up, as if he can sense Xie Lian’s arrival. He turns, and Xie Lian’s breath is caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob, instead remaining lodged in his trembling throat. 

“Gege, I’m back.” 

He doesn’t have words, doesn’t even have a thought to spare in his head. His feet move on instinct, arms outspread as he throws himself into Hua Cheng’s arms. Hua Cheng catches him effortlessly, and that tiny realization only serves to make him shake more. 

Hua Cheng is kind, so thoughtful, so selfless, it makes Xie Lian ache. He can’t imagine living a lifetime without the Ghost King’s warmth anymore. The thought should terrify him. Instead, he only pulls Hua Cheng closer in a grip he’s sure is far from comfortable. There’s a desperate tinge to the way Hua Cheng pulls at his shoulders, tight enough to nearly block his breath, and Xie Lian doesn’t feel any guilt at the action. 

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here,” He can feel himself murmuring into Hua Cheng’s shoulder. “San Lang-” 

Fingers delve into his hair, ever so gently holding his head as Hua Chang whispers back, “I’m here Gege- your highness- I’m here.” 

Tears are staining Hua Cheng’s robes, but Xie Lian couldn’t stop them if he tried. There are too many emotions bubbling in him, overflowing onto his face. 

Imagine, there had been a time where he had felt nothing at all, had been content to live his life emptily, only alive because his body wouldn’t let him move on. 

Now, he buries himself in Hua Cheng, lets out a year’s worth of fear and century old whispers in his ears telling him that he was a fool for believing in anything but the constancy of his loneliness. 

They hold each other long enough for the lanterns to float all the way up to heaven, surely scaring the gods out of their wits as they realize who must have returned. With one last squeeze, Xie Lian steps away. Not too far, as Hua Cheng keeps an arm wrapped snugly around his waist. He cups Hua Cheng’s cheeks, wiping away the tear tracks. 

He smiles, feeling as if the strength of it might split his face in two. “San Lang.” 

“Gege,” Hua Cheng returns, using his sleeve to brush Xie Lian’s face clean. “Did you miss me?’ 

“Always, San Lang,” he says, the answer more honest than he intended it to be. Hua Cheng blinks, soft smile slipping as a faint flush appears in its place. It’s enough for Xie Lian to ignore the way his own face burns as he giggles. 

“You really will be the death of me,” Hua Cheng says with a sigh, running a hand through Xie Lian’s hair. His fingers are gentle, making sure to only card through the strands not tied up in his signature bun, slipping them behind Xie Lian’s ear. The touch is warm, nearly electric as his body contends with being touched like this once more, tenderly, softly. 

A tug on his arm reminds him that he isn’t the only one who has been waiting. He smiles down at his sleeve, murmuring, “Go on, go say hello.” 

Maybe he should have told Ruoye to go easy on Hua Cheng. With one last squeeze around his arm, Ruoye shoots off, almost too quick to catch. It twists around Hua Cheng in its version of a hug, one end excitedly twisting in front of Hua Cheng’s face. 

However, Ruoye, in its eagerness, has simply bundled Hua Cheng up in its endless length, leaving the Ghost King’s arms pinned tight against his side. Only his face is visible, mouth slightly open in sheer surprise as his eye tracks Ruoye’s movements. 

Xie Lian can’t help it, truly, he can’t. He doubles over hands pressed in his knees to keep himself upright as he laughs. It’s an all encompassing thing, one that leaves him breathless once it tapers off into a chuckle filled sigh. 

Ruoye, either having hugged Hua Cheng enough, or having been forcibly removed, settles for circling around the two of them, brushing against their arms. Xie Lian would call it back, but he’s a bit caught up in the way Hua Cheng is looking at him, silver eye shimmering as if he had just bore witness to something glorious. 

“San Lang?” 

“Gege is beautiful,” he says as if- as if- really, this is too sudden for Xie Lian’s poor heart to take. It rabbits in his chest as his mind tries and fails to find the words to respond to that. Eventually he coughs, mouth dry. 

Face resolutely aimed at the ground, Xie Lian says, “San Lang too.” 

A moment passes in silence, save for the rustle of Ruoye around them. Xie Lian risks looking up at Hua Cheng, pleasantly surprised to find that the flush has returned. Noticing his gaze, Hua Cheng smiles, both sharp and soft in that endearing way of his. He offers a hand, red string attached, and Xie Lian smiles at the memory of their first meeting as scrap god and ghost king. 

Now, when he puts his hand in Hua Cheng’s he has a red thread to match, and feels as though his hand was made just to perfectly wrap his fingers around Hua Cheng’s. 

Ruoye takes one last chance to wrap around the both of them, pushing them ever so closer, before it zips inside.  

“Gege, shall we go inside? I want to hear what you’ve been doing while I was away,” Hua Cheng says, unfairly beautiful. Xie Lian’s heart trembles, so close to bursting once more. 

“Of course, San Lang.” 

“Gege,” Hua Cheng says one day, when they’re lounging in bed. “When did you find Ruoye?”

Xie Lian freezes for a moment, and he isn’t naive enough to assume Hua Cheng missed it. He hums, considering. He doesn’t want to lie to his husband, and really, he has no reason to. Xie Lian would trust Hua Cheng with his soul, in the same way that Hua Cheng’s ashes sit warm around his neck. 

Hua Cheng always looks so sad when Xie Lian talks about the painful parts of his life, no matter how faded that pain is. He doesn’t want to drag down the mood of the peaceful morning or see that unbearable look of sorrow lining Hua Cheng’s eye. 

Xie Lian rolls over, brushing over impossibly soft sheets as he looks up at the ceiling. Hua Cheng, attentiveness now focused to a pinpoint that Xie Lian can feel, sits up on an elbow, waiting for Xie Lian’s answer. 

“It was a long time ago, the details are a bit fuzzy. Why does San Lang want to know?” 

“Just curious, it doesn’t really matter. But if gege wants to tell me, I would be happy to listen,” Hua Cheng says softly, one hand wrapping around Xie Lian’s arm. 

Xie Lian’s heart crumbles over the action, emotion swelling up in his chest and lodging itself in his throat. Before he can do something embarrassing like break into tears, he rolls back over to hug Hua Cheng and pull his husband close. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” Xie Lian fumbles, trying to sort through his desires and memories. He holds onto Hua Cheng shamelessly, burying his head in the ghost king’s chest. Despite being dead Hua Cheng still manages to warm him all over. “I...I don’t want to make you sad.” 

He feels Hua Cheng’s lips against the top of his head, his husband running a hand down his back. “Gege doesn’t have to worry about that.” 

Xie Lian pulls back so he can meet Hua Cheng’s eyes. “Of course I worry about that,” he says, cradling Hua Cheng’s cheek. His husband leans into the touch, and Xie Lian brushes his smooth cheek, fingers trembling ever so slightly. 

“It was a long time ago,” Xie Lian starts with, because he needs to make sure Hua Cheng knows he is okay. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Ruoye is...well, it stayed with me for all those years. No matter what, I cherish it.” 

Hua Cheng doesn’t answer, simply humming as Xie Lian finds the least painful way to explain Ruoye’s origins. He looks over Hua Cheng’s long form, seeing E-Ming and Ruoye curled up near each other on the far side of the room. Both of them are so quiet and cute, so far a contrast from their origins. 

In many ways, E-Ming is the same as Ruoye, and Xie Lian had already been told about E-Ming, without Hua Cheng getting a choice in the matter. That reminder settles him, calming his heart back to an easier pace. 

“It was after- after the temple,” As he talks, Xie Lian smooths the lines of regret and anger that immediately make themselves known on his husbands face, despite the clear effort to control his expression. “I went back to Feng Xin and my parents, and I kept the same bandages. Some things happened, and it was me and my parents. They were…” Xie Lian swallows, old shame rising in his throat at how badly he had disappointed his proud family. A new shame too, one that he hadn’t felt again before meeting Hua Cheng. It still hurts to reveal these twisted parts of himself, even to the man that had seen him at his worst. “We got into a fight because I had been robbing to get us money for food.” 

Xie Lian laughs, breathy and tainted with sadness. “I was already pretty out of it, and I said some really cruel things to them because of that. When I got up the next morning I found them…” Xie Lian can’t bring himself to say it, clenching Hua Cheng’s robes. “With the blood of a former god and the deaths of two royals, the bandages gained a spirit. And then Ruoye stayed with me from there on, no matter how hard I tried to chase it away at first.” 

“Gege,” Hua Cheng says, voice wavering. He is still for a long moment, eye filled with emotions Xie Lian can’t decipher, before he pulls Xie Lian into a tight hug. One hand holds the back of Xie Lian’s head, long fingers threading through his hair, as the other wraps around his shoulders. “Gege is so kind.” 

Xie Lian bites back his rebuttal, knowing that it would only devolve into a circular argument. He sinks into his husband’s embrace, relishing the comfort that comes from feeling another’s hands on him. 

“San Lang too,” he mumbles. “San Lang is so kind and brave.” 

“Not as much as gege.” 

“Just as much and more.” 

Hua Cheng hums, letting the familiar back and forth end there. He keeps humming, a familiar tune that Hua Cheng refuses to name. The sound reverberates in his chest, where Xie Lian is pressed tight. He closes his eyes, cheek tingling from the sensation. 

“I’m glad Ruoye is here,” Xie Lian says quietly. “I don’t know what I would have done without it.” 

“I’m glad you had it too,” Hua Cheng replies, sincere. “I’m glad gege had something to keep him company, especially when it is so loyal.” 

“Ruoye is very loyal,” Xie Lian says, remembering those three days spent bleeding in the streets. Ruoye may be bound to him by blood, but it’s more than that now. 800 years beside each other is something far stronger than a bit of blood. 

Xie Lian loves Ruoye as his companion, friend, and weapon all at once. And he knows that Ruoye cares for him in return. That is what truly matters. 

.