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The discovery, as surprising as it was at first, seems obvious in hindsight. Despite their fearsome reputation, Hua Cheng’s butterflies have always been the most adorable creatures he has ever met. This just proved how much depth there was still to uncover within their master.
Xie Lian never wondered why, back then, Hua Cheng had given him that particular flower. Was it because he was poor? Did it remind him of Xie Lian? The reason never mattered to him. If not for this, it probably never would have.
Now, watching the butterflies flutter amongst the falling petals, he considers that maybe Hua Cheng simply liked it.
The realization doesn’t change much. Not anything, really, but it warms Xie Lian’s heart nonetheless. The decision he makes is not thought-out, but it’s an easy one. That evening, when they are slipping into their bed, Hua Cheng pulling the covers over his naked shoulders, Xie Lian voices his wish. For the first time in centuries, he selfishly asks for a material thing without feeling guilty about it.
“San Lang,” he says, bitemarks throbbing on his throat in place of the broken shackle, “I’d like to start a garden”
Hua Cheng barely blinks at him before leaning in and placing a sweet kiss on his forehead, the kind that has Xie Lian melting into the covers. “I’ll find seeds for gege in the morning”
And he does, just like Xie Lian knew he would. It’s not only flowers either, but also shrubs and ferns, and even a tree sapling. Establishing the garden doesn’t come easily, even with Xie Lian’s borrowed luck. An uncountable number of plants die at his hands, but Hua Cheng always provides him with more resources, more encouragement. Xie Lian spends his days covered in soil from head to toe, but the sight of butterflies happily fluttering around him makes it worth his while.
The first plant Xie Lian manages to keep alive long enough for it to bloom is a tiny thing, its pale pink petals making it look somewhat shy. Something within him stirs at the sight, his heart unfolding like the blossom before him. He can’t wait to show Hua Cheng the fruit of his labor; he’s not given a chance to.
The day it blooms is the last day Xie Lian sees that particular plant. As soon as they spot the unfurled bud, the butterflies flock onto the flower in a swarm so dense the poor thing gets crushed under their weight.
Xie Lian allows himself one breath of ire and disappointment. He wouldn’t manage more than that anyway, not with how guilty the butterflies look. Not when he sees the sheepish way they try to straighten the flower-mush back up. He can’t blame them for eagerness.
He smiles, clapping his hands. The butterflies immediately return to his side, their glow much weaker than usual. “Alright then,” he says, “Let’s get back to work”
The butterflies are excellent helpers. Just like their master, they always seem to know what Xie Lian will need before he even thinks of it. Nowadays they accompany him everywhere, especially when Hua Cheng is not present, their number growing larger with each hour they spend apart. Hua Cheng himself never joins the gardening sessions, content to watch from the windows of Paradise Manor. It’s unusual for him, but after some contemplation, Xie Lian finds it’s exactly what he needs these days.
Besides, he oh so loves coming back home to his husband, letting Hua Cheng wash the grime from his hair; allowing himself to be pampered without putting up a fight for a change. He doesn’t have the courage to admit it yet, but Hua Cheng rarely needs the words from him anyway.
As he works, the butterflies grow calmer around him, spreading out in the ever-expanding garden. Fewer flowers get crushed. Seasons change, bringing new challenges with each passing year. Xie Lian learns to enjoy them. Other than celebrating with Hua Cheng, Xie Lian doesn’t pay attention to the wheel of time. He sees new faces whenever he comes to the Heavenly Realm, but he takes no more interest in them than they do in him.
He visits his friends in their golden palaces, as well as in the mortal realm. They in turn drop by each time he’s at Puqi Shrine, although such days have grown fewer in number lately. He doesn’t mind. His old believers have already passed away, and the new generations take care of the shrine just fine.
It’s during one of such visits that he decides to boast a bit. He’s feeling proud of himself. Not only that, he’d like for his friends to stop avoiding his home.
“You should come to see my garden,” he says. The butterflies flicker their wings in agreement. They’re just as proud of it as he is.
“Which one?” Feng Xin asks with indifference. At the same time, Mu Qing scoffs. Xie Lian blinks at them. Their dismissal hurts a bit, but he blames that on the way Hua Cheng spoils him with his attention.
“I only have the one,” he replies, growing more puzzled when the two exchange a look.
“Dianxia” Ling Wen says calmly, sipping tea by the table as she sometimes does when she’s in the mood to join them. “There are flowers growing at your feet”
Xie Lian glances down. So they are, two buds sprouting from between the wooden boards of the floor. A few butterflies are perched around them, another one resting on a tiny vine crawling from the window.
“Huh. Do they do that often?”
“Yes,” Mu Qing and Feng Xin hiss simultaneously, matching expressions of suffering on their faces.
“Did not realize?” Ling Wen says, sounding as if she expected it..
“Not really”
He sits down across from her, turning his back on the groans of his friends. Banyue pours them both tea, watching with curiosity as Ling Wen procures a scroll from her sleeve.
„Haven’t you been receiving an increased amount of garden-related prayers lately?”
Xie Lian considers it. He has, although he cannot pinpoint the moment it started. He never paid much attention to it, too caught up in the happiness of finally being able to help.
A butterfly lands on Banyue’s hair. It seems to laugh at him, but it only makes his heart fill up with warmth. Of course my San Lang knew, he thinks. The butterfly picks up on it easily, fluttering its wings and leaving a silver shimmer in the air. “I suppose I have”
“No shit” Mu Qing mutters. Judging by the following groan, Feng Xin must have elbowed him.
“Dianxia,” Ling Wen says, pushing the scroll toward him. “You’ve been considered the God of Bloom for over a century now. People raise gardens as your shrines”
The butterfly flies down from Banyue’s head, flapping excitedly in the air. Xie Lian extends a hand to it, smiling softly when it lands on the string tied around his finger. “Just the bloom?”
“They die quite quickly after you’re gone” Banyue explains gently. The butterfly’s wings twitch, and Xie Lian can almost hear Hua Cheng’s scoff. No wonder he never noticed! He’s in his garden all the time.
San Lang must have found it hilarious to keep me unaware, he thinks. Several butterflies flock to him in response.
Enamoured, he throws his head back and laughs.