Chapter Text
Hua Cheng’s luck has always been exceptional. The reason why is not something he can explain, nor can he explain how good luck comes to him. The only way he can describe it is as a feeling, an impulse, an invisible force that pulls and guides him, almost as if he is tethered to a wellspring of good fortune. He trusts both his luck and his intuition, as neither rarely lead him astray. To be honest, the main reason that he places so much faith in something so nebulous is because he believes that, if he does, it will eventually lead him back to the only person that matters: his god, Dianxia, and love. His separation from Xie Lian has lasted for 800 years, though not due to a lack of effort on Hua Cheng’s part to find him. When last they parted, Hua Cheng gladly and willingly sacrificed himself to ensure the safety and protection of his beloved. For him, however, it was no sacrifice. It was an honor. A privilege. A purpose; in fact, his only purpose. And now, centuries later, rather than lament the passage of time, Hua Cheng has honed its power like the endless sharpening of a blade. Time has made him worthy of protecting, and dare he even think it, perhaps even loving his god. Days have turned into years have turned into decades have turned into centuries. Time has been an endless siphon through which he has channeled and refined his power, strength, and skill. Hua Cheng has approached the passage of time not as a curse, but rather as a weapon, one that he can manipulate and use to his own advantage.
Today his intuition has guided him to adopt the skin of a carefree youth, 16 years of age, dressed in black boots and a maple-red tunic, no weapon visible, long ebony hair tied in a loose ponytail. It is in this disguise that he wanders the streets of ghost city, his gait languid and lazy. This disguise is one he has never adopted before, and he wanders the streets unrecognized by most of his subjects. He prefers not to acknowledge or be acknowledged by anyone in the crowd. He has a destination in mind. His intuition tells him that today is a very lucky day indeed and that the Gambler’s Den is the place to be. He has no reason to question it. After all, luck has always been on his side and he can only hope that it will lead him back to Xie Lian’s side as well.
Hua Cheng enters the grandiose red building and heads straight for a card table. A man is seated at the table, engrossed in a game of cards with a croupier and a few other patrons. Hua Cheng sits down leisurely in an empty seat next to him.
“This is horrible, horrible” the man laments, an intense look of pain on his face as he stares woefully at the array of cards in his hand, seemingly willing them to somehow change. The round finishes and the man slaps his cards down on the table, revealing a terrible hand indeed; a mishmash that amounts to nothing much. The croupier addresses the man, “That’s your loss, sir. As agreed upon, you now owe a debt of fortune telling to the house.” She then turns to address Hua Cheng, “Welcome, sir. If you would like to play, please place your bet.” Hua Cheng shakes his head imperceptibly, flashing his eyes at the croupier, and exchanges a stern and knowing look, but no words, with her. In that instant he silently communicates his identity and also makes it clear that she had better keep it a secret if she knows what is good for her. She nods discreetly and says nothing more.
Hua Cheng turns his head to the man seated next to him, his gaze falling upon him. Although in appearance the man appears to be no more than 30 years of age, his eyes are ancient and wise. Hua Cheng, who understands all too well the look of one who has passed through long stretches of time, senses in him a nearly infinite expanse of wisdom and knowledge. He questions the man, “You’re a fortune teller?”
“Yes, yes, and quite a skilled one at that. It seems I owe my services in payment for my loss today. I say, young man, would you like to have your fortune told?” The fortune teller glances at the croupier as if to confirm that this will indeed satisfy the bet. Strangely, she first flashes a brief glance at the young man dressed in bright red as if to confirm things with him before nodding her head yes in agreement. Of course the fortune teller would be perplexed by this exchange; he has no idea who is truly seated next to him!
The man turns back to Hua Cheng. “So, young man, what would you like to hear?”
Hua Cheng shifts on his stool and turns toward the man before saying simply, “I am looking for my beloved and would like to know when I will meet them again.”
The man flashes a knowing grin at Hua Cheng before replying, “Ah, young love! I’m not surprised, not surprised; you certainly are a handsome devil! She must be an unforgettable beauty and a very special, lucky lady to have caught your affections!”
To that, Hua Cheng replies, “En, my beloved is a noble, gracious, special someone for whom I have been searching for a very long time. Can you tell me where I might find them?”
The fortune teller replies, “I will do my best.” He then holds out both of his hands with his palms up and gestures with a nod for Hua Cheng to place his hands on top. Then, with their both pairs of hands touching, the fortune teller closes his eyes, furrowing his brows slightly. Hua Cheng watches the man intently, making a concerted effort to maintain a calm exterior despite feeling incredibly anxious, nervous, and also incredibly silly. After 800 years, he wonders if he has truly and completely lost his mind, willing to place his trust, and his hands, literally, in the words of a complete stranger. Yet, Hua Cheng rationalizes, he does feel that there is more to this fortune teller than meets the eye and, in addition, he also senses a vague and nagging familiarity. A memory, old yet incredibly clear, surfaces in Hua Cheng’s mind: the Xianle Pavillion, 800 years ago. Hua Cheng, a young child full of hatred for the world and hatred for himself. An arrogant Guoshi speaking hurtful words: “toxic, ominous star, Star of Solitude, evil, the greatest of misfortune.” Although this fortune teller seated across from Hua Cheng bares no resemblance to that Guoshi of Xianle, he can’t help but think to himself, “Is it possible, could this man be him?”. Could he truly be telling Hua Cheng’s fortune once again, 800 years later? A fortune that, this time at least, he hopes will bring him closer to his beloved rather than trying to pull him apart? Or, and he can hardly bear this thought, will he hear another fortune that demands that he keep far away? Hua Cheng’s body tenses up. The fortune teller opens his eyes and removes his hands from underneath Hua Cheng’s. Hua Cheng places his hands in his lap and sits very still. He is afraid to hear what he is certain will be the gravest of fortunes, probably something along the lines of bringing nothing but ruin, death, and destruction to his beloved and it being best for all involved that he never seek them out.
The fortune teller looks Hua Cheng directly in the eyes and says, “You will meet the person you are waiting for on Mount YuJun. Your wife will be dressed in bridal clothes, and be brought to marry you on a wedding sedan.”
“I can’t believe this. He told me I would meet the person I am waiting for on Mount YuJun, in bridal clothes and on a wedding sedan.” Hua Cheng paces back and forth in the great hall of Paradise Manor, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. His hurried, frenetic steps and the intense, distressed look in his eyes are a sharp contrast to the youthful appearance he has adopted today and has yet to phase out of. He retreated to Paradise Manor after leaving the Gambler’s Den. In a fit of turmoil and desperation, he called He Xuan over immediately. In a truly desperate and pathetic move, he had even promised to provide his fellow Supreme with a grand feast and to forgive 5% of his debt. He hopes that having someone else there will help to calm his overwrought nerves. Hua Cheng chides himself for his pitiful weakness as his feet stomp back and forth across the hall.
He Xuan sucks a chicken leg dry in one gulp and watches Hua Cheng pace so furiously that a hole is sure to be worn into the thick, snow-white rug in the very near future. He swallows before replying, “So what the hell are you still doing here?”
Hua Cheng stops pacing for a moment to throw an icy glare at his fellow Supreme, “I’m leaving. Soon. Very soon.” He continues his frantic pacing.
Somewhere deep inside, He Xuan feels a tiny twinge of pity; no, not just pity, he corrects himself: pity and disgust. He immediately pours a bowl of soup down his throat to help wash the feelings away while simultaneously being thankful that he himself is far above such ridiculous sentimentality. Watching the unhinged Ghost King stomp back and forth is making him dizzy. Hoping to put an end to this display, he decides to throw his fellow Supreme, whose emotions are clearly spiraling out of control, a bone. “You’ve spent the past several hundred years looking for and living for this person. I’ve spent the past several hundred years having to hear about it. I don’t even know very much about who this person is, but I do know that it’s about damn time that you do something about it if you can.” He Xuan needs a stiff drink and an intravenous chocolate drip after speaking such revolting words of encouragement. He can only hope that the enormous piece of chocolate cake he shoves in his mouth will help to push down any lingering feelings of sympathy. He washes it down by chugging an entire jar of red wine. He daintily wipes his mouth with a napkin before continuing, “So what are you waiting for? Stop stalling. Get out of my sight and go get your damn bride.” If Hua Cheng doesn’t open up a distance shortening array to Mount YuJun soon, and then promptly shove himself through it, He Xuan is going to do it for him.
“I’m not stalling. I can’t rush into this recklessly. I need more information. You have spies in the heavens. Has there been any news?”
He Xuan swallows an entire tray of dumplings to quell his frustration and then thinks for a moment. “There was something, just happened today. An ascension. Caused quite a stir in the heavens. Broke a bunch of shit too, but unfortunately no Heavenly Officials were hurt.”
“An ascension?” Hua Cheng rushes over and stands across from He Xuan, his hands clenched into fists. His gaze bears down upon the Supreme as he sputters, “Who? Who was it?”
He Xuan closes his eyes. This whole ordeal is giving him a monster headache. He downs an entire bowl of rice as he gently massages his temple. His patience is wearing thin. “Some rubbish God of Misfortune, used to be a Crown Prince or some bullshit, yada, yada, yada, but now does nothing but collect junk. What a--” His words are abruptly cut off by a sudden “whoosh”, followed immediately by a gust of wind that is still swirling through the great hall when He Xuan opens his eyes.
Hua Cheng is gone; the only thing left in his wake is the gentle rustling of elaborate drapes and the soft clinking of the beaded curtain that hangs in the room.
He Xuan heaves a huge sigh of relief. “Finally. About fucking time. Now I can eat in peace.” And he does just that.