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Wind rattled through the loose boards of Puqi shrine. The walls were riddled with so many holes that moonlight seemed to drench the thin reed sleeping mat shared by two. One drew slow and even breaths, peacefully asleep. The other was wide awake and restless. San Lang did not need moonlight to see in the dark. However, it was the one thing out of his line of sight that preoccupied him now—His Highness Crown Prince Xie Lian, fast asleep behind him. How could he fall asleep so easily with a stranger next to him? What a dangerous habit!
As if hearing the accusation, Xie Lian sighed deeply and shifted on the mat. San Lang remained as rigid as a corpse until he was certain that His Highness was still asleep. He clenched a fistful of the white robe that had been draped over him earlier that night as he feigned sleep. Although it was well-worn and likely had not been washed in some time, the roughly woven fabric smelled faintly of lily and magnolia. The same scent had wafted from His Highness each time he leaned close or passed in front of him. Now it was keeping him awake. After a while, San Lang sighed and rolled over to lay the robe on His Highness instead. He froze.
Their faces were almost touching—when had His Highness rolled over? San Lang still clutched the robe, his arm hovering over Xie Lian’s side. His shock gradually melted into a quiet reverie. It was better than a dream to see him like this, better than eight hundred years of dreams. They had spoken to each other, laughed together, their hands had touched twice. In front of Xie Lian, he really felt like just a boy. No ghost realm to lord over, no enemies to stamp into the ground, no centuries of searching. Just San Lang, careless and bold, pushing for a compliment or saying gege as if it didn’t send such a guilty thrill through him.
He finally laid the robe over Xie Lian and turned his back again. His true form could only cause trouble for His Highness, already so out of favor in heaven. But it was unrealistic to hope that he could play this innocent role forever. Someday the truth would have to be revealed. San Lang tried to imagine, as he had so often done before, what His Highness would think of Crimson Rain Sought Flower.
The ox cart jolted on the bumpy road, bumping their shoulders.
San Lang quirked an eyebrow. “What do you think he looks like?” He was more than curious. A deep, long-lived part of him needed to know what he was in the eyes of His Highness—a wrathful monster who wreaked havoc upon the heavens? Ugly, deformed perhaps, fangs dripping with blood? Cunning, deceitful, not to be trusted?
“Hmm…” Xie Lian’s eyes crinkled into crescents. His tone was light and humorous even as his words delivered a piercing arrow through him. “I think…he must be a youth like you.”
A sudden warmth pressed into San Lang’s back. An arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him against Xie Lian’s chest. He pushed away as if scalded, but the hold around him was surprisingly stubborn.
“Gege?”
No response. Xie Lian breathed just as slowly and evenly as before, only this time at the nape of his neck. San Lang found himself afraid to move. The situation would be far more awkward if His Highness awakened than if it were endured alone. He closed his eyes to feign sleep again. This only amplified his other senses. Xie Lian’s breaths tickled the back of his neck and sent a pricking of goosebumps down his arms.
San Lang gazed intently at Xie Lian’s face while his hand was inspected. “What about my love fortune?”
Xie Lian laughed with a streak of embarrassment, withdrawing immediately. “Ah, well, that’s not my specialty. But I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”
“Why not?” he asked with false innocence, tilting his head.
Xie Lian fiddled with the reins and looked down the road. Fondness softened the exasperation in his tone. “Because you’re a smart, charming, handsome young man.”
San Lang opened his eyes in a sudden jolt of panic. No, this position would not work at all. He reached down to move the hand from his waist and frowned at the cool temperature of Xie Lian’s fingertips. Perhaps that was the reason for his sudden latching on. San Lang fought with himself internally, but there was no other way. He would simply have to bear it for now.
Thereafter, he passed time like a soldier on watch, taking note of the shabby interior of the shrine and trying to ignore the gentle pressure against his back where Xie Lian curled into him. His gaze lingered on the empty altar. He knew just what it needed. Every line of that figure had been memorized by him long ago. He had drawn it sacrilegiously in the dust and with his own blood, painted it with the most expensive ink and carved it into the strongest stone.
Early, as daybreak began to fill the cracks of Puqi shrine with liquid gold, San Lang quietly began to paint that famous figure in white and golden ceremonial robes, Crown Prince Pleasing the Gods. Bold, steady brushstrokes covered the page, followed by the small, precise details burned into his memory on that fateful day. He did not raise his head until the painting was finished, but when he did, he could not help but look over at His Highness.
He was the same in many ways and yet so changed from the young prince in the painting, who radiated such grace and good fortune. San Lang gazed at him fast asleep on the mat, then touched his paintbrush to the prince’s lips once more, drawing them up into a slight smile. Xie Lian stirred in his sleep. He quickly hung the painting and busied himself with sweeping the outside of the shrine.
Not long after, a voice called out to him from the open doorway. “San Lang! Is this painting yours?”
He turned around with a modest smile. “Mm. How does gege like it?”
Xie Lian’s cheeks flushed and his brows knitted together in an expression caught between confusion and delight. “It’s been such a long time, I thought nobody…” He gazed back at the altar for a long moment, then shook his head as if to scatter heavy thoughts. “San Lang, I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable last night.”
San Lang’s shoulders stiffened and his hands tightened around the broom.
“You must be used to a much nicer bed,” Xie Lian continued lightly.
His body relaxed. “No, I slept well. Much better than usual.” Anything at His Highness’s side was better, even if he had not slept at all.
Xie Lian huffed a laugh as if this were hard to believe. “That’s good to hear.”
San Lang swept the stone walkway absently. He had already finished it a while ago. “Did you sleep well too?”
“I did! We’re lucky, it must have been a warm night.” He rubbed the doorframe, looking up at the temple roof. “There’s a lot of work to be done before winter.”
San Lang would not hesitate an instant to hand over his life for Xie Lian. When he first took his hand on Yu Jun mountain, when he appeared on the ox cart, he was simply elated to be in his presence and to perhaps give of himself whatever Xie Lian would take. If he could make the night a bit warmer, hold off the winter a little longer, that would be no less an honor.
“If Gege doesn’t mind me staying, I can help.”
Xie Lian seemed surprised and glanced away. “Oh...yes, of course, you’re welcome to stay as long as it suits you.” His own answer seemed to fluster him. “I’m making rice porridge! Come inside when you’re hungry.”
He scurried back through the doorway, leaving San Lang with the broom and a quiet smile, content for now. What an honor it would be to eat something prepared by His Highness. He wondered what it would taste like.