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“General Hua looks happy.”
It’s almost lunch time in Puqi shrine. The scent of incense and fresh buns fills the air, a reminder that, although few in number, there are those who believe in this Flower-Crowned god. Who believe in Xie Lian. The offerings are abundant enough to cover two meals for him and Hua Cheng, but Xie Lian ignores them in favor of cooking a meal.
He smiles at the vegetables he’s cutting. The cuts are uneven and the pieces vastly differ in size, truly a horrible death. Xie Lian bounces in excitement, picking up another carrot.
Xie Lian glances at the clay pot resting on the altar table. Ban Yue has recovered some since that night. She’s still too weak and too tired to leave the pot, but she’s talking more now. Xie Lian can’t help but think she sounds a lot more like the child he used to know than the Guoshi he met in the Sinner’s Pit.
“I indeed am,” he hums in response, throwing the ingredients into the boiling pot. The water is already a suspicious shade of purple—Xie Lian can’t wait to know what Hua Cheng will say. “We’re going to a new place today.”
Ban Yue lets out a soft, “Oh.” The pot jumps forward, stopping near Xie Lian’s feet. He picks the pot and puts it by the vegetables basket, close enough that he can see it while still safely distant from the fire. He pats the pot’s lid mindlessly. He can almost feel Ban Yue bowing her head with a small huff.
“General Hua will take me too?” Ban Yue’s voice sounds hopeful.
“Of course! I don’t trust you with anyone else.” The answer comes out easily, without any hint of falsehood or hesitation. Xie Lian left Ban Yue behind once. He won’t commit the same mistake again. “San Lang said he’ll prepare a room just for you in his manor. Ban Yue, you’ll be treated like a princess.”
There’s silence. Then, “So General Hua will be Queen Hua?”
Xie Lian had just picked up some seasoning, both hands hovering over the soup. Hearing Ban Yue’s words, however, he lost his grip on the ingredients. By the time he secures the packet in his hands, a far-too-big amount of pepper is already melting into the soup. Xie Lian would pout if his heart wasn’t beating so fast. Red creeps up his cheeks, coloring them the same shade as Hua Cheng’s robes.
He doesn’t dare answer Ban Yue’s question.
It’s been two days since that night. Xie Lian is actually surprised by how little he actually remembers of their conversation—Hua Cheng’s gentle caresses, his kisses, his scent are the only things he remembers clearly. That, and the overwhelming feeling of want and more and love.
Things didn’t change much after that night. They continued on with their routine like usual, repairing the shrine, cleaning and cooking, and simply basking in each other’s presence.
Granted, there have been a few more touches than usual, brushing fingertips and fleeting kisses, and Xie Lian may have hinted how much he wants Hua Cheng to stay an embarrassingly amount of times, all of which Hua Cheng offered a smile and a teasing, “Like there’s anywhere else I’d rather be.”
Xie Lian believed him every time.
This is where Hua Cheng wants to be and Xie Lian, he’s just happy. His hand unconsciously reaches for his chest. There’s a small bump right over his heart; even through the layers of his robes, Xie Lian can feel the ring’s shape clearly.
Hua Cheng refused to tell him what it’s made of. “It’s just a little keepsake,” he said when Xie Lian asked him. Xie Lian could tell there’s more to it than Hua Cheng let out. And so he kept his gift in the safest place Xie Lian could think of, and there he’ll keep it to the ends of time.
Xie Lian chuckles. He can hear the increasingly loud sounds of chopping wood from outside. He doesn’t need to check to know it’s Hua Cheng and, he’s sure, the alpha will glare at the sun every couple of seconds.
This, too, did not change.
He wonders how good a ghost’s hearing is. Could Hua Cheng have heard Ban Yue’s question? Does he know how Xie Lian’s heart sped up and his cheeks burned? How, even if he can’t give Ban Yue an answer, in his heart, he hopes that’ll be true?
He pats the clay pot gently and says in a joking tone, “Dear Ban Yue, how can I be a Queen?”
Ban Yue’s pot hops up and down. “General Hua told me all omegas are precious and delicate and strong and they can whatever they want to be.” She then pauses, unsure, “General Hua doesn’t want to be a Queen?”
Xie Lian shakes his head. “I can’t be a Queen without a marriage.”
“But we have a King!” Ban Yue’s voice rises a few octaves. Xie Lian bites his lip, desperately trying to contain his laugh. He can’t help but hope Hua Cheng can hear this.
“I don’t look good in red.”
“General Hua always looked beautiful in red!”
“I’m a terrible cook.”
“He likes your food.”
“I’m weird.”
“You are weird.”
“Ban Yue!”
She laughs, light and carefree like a bird. Xie Lian’s heart warms a bit at its sound. “But General Hua has many nice things too.”
“Do I now?” Xie Lian picks an apple from the offerings and bites into it, watching the little clay pot hopping lazily.
“You do.” Ban Yue makes a funny noise, almost like she’s clearing her throat. “General Hua is very beautiful and always looks soft. The kind of person no one can truly fear and all want to be near to. He’s also very brave and isn’t afraid to stand for what he believes. He’s very reliable and trustworthy. And intelligent. And knows how to make people happy. And creative too. He’s also good at making people feel better. And is very patient. General Hua was... like a mom, for me. He still is. Your mate will be very lucky and I’m sure your child—”
“Okay, stop!” Xie Lian covers the pot with both hands. His whole body is trembling and his eyes burn with unshed tears.
Xie Lian is used to being a weirdo. A loner. The laughing stock of three realms. He’s not used to kindness. To being appreciated. To feeling loved. He doesn’t know how to deal with this; the change is too great, too jarring, for him to know what to do with his own emotions. He’s sure, though, that should Hua Cheng and Ban Yue have any say in it, this will be everything he’ll ever know.
He picks the pot in his arms, cradling it no different than how he cradled Ban Yue back then. The pot is warm against his chest. Xie Lian can hear Ban Yue contented sigh. He whispers, “Thank you.”
“I only say the truth,” Ban Yue replies just as quietly. “I mean it when I say General Hua is like a mom to me. The only one I ever had.”
Ban Yue’s mother died when she was six, but Xie Lian isn’t so naive as to believe their relationship was good. The woman lost her husband to the hardships of war. Given Banyue people’s temper and natural talent to hold grudges, Xie Lian didn’t doubt a second that she never loved Ban Yue. If she did, she would’ve lived for her daughter instead of perishing to her own sadness.
Xie Lian failed her too.
He swallows. This time a tear escapes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“General Hua took care of me when I needed. He came back for me when I needed. He loves me now. That’s enough.” Ban Yue says lightly. Xie Lian wonders if she can hear his thoughts, if she knows exactly what’s hurting him. “General Hua?”
“What’s it?”
“Can I call you mom?”
Xie Lian’s breath hitches. He holds the pot tighter. He wishes he could hug Ban Yue, pat her head and kiss her forehead. But now, just for now, this will have to do. He can only offer one answer. “Of course.”
***
“What do you think?” Xie Lian asks sheepishly. His grip on his bowl is a little tighter than it strictly needs to be and his scent flares up with anxiety.
Hua Cheng doesn’t answer right away. He picks a mouthful of the soup and takes his time chewing on it. He doesn’t seem to care about the purple-black color nor the misshapen bodies floating around. He even drinks some of the broth, licking his lips for good measure.
“What’s its name?” he asks in lieu of an answer.
Xie Lian averts his gaze. He knows his face looks red now. “Love For All Seasons.”
Hua Cheng raises his eyebrow slightly. It only adds to the mischievous air of this handsome youth face—the face Xie Lian already knows too well, the mask that hides the one he truly wants to see. “That’s a great name, gege,” he says. Though his smile is full of mischief, his words are sincere. “I love it.”
Xie Lian positively beams at that. He holds back the really?! that threatens to escape. There’s no need to confirm it. Hua Cheng never lies to him. Instead, “Thank you, San Lang.”
Hua Cheng’s gaze softens. “I’m glad gege made it. I’ll miss eating here.”
When Hua Cheng asked him to go with him to Ghost City, Xie Lian had no doubt: wherever Hua Cheng is, is where I want to be . Now that there’s nothing keeping them at this Puqi shrine—everything is clean and neat, the villagers promised to take care of it in their absence and he didn’t receive any message from heavens—Xie Lian finally finds it in himself to be anxious.
He’s lived for eight hundred years, yet never set foot in the ghost realm. Part of him is scared of the unknown. What if something goes wrong? What if Xie Lian does something wrong? What if Hua Cheng decides that, no, he isn’t worth it? Xie Lian knows it’s all stupid. He felt the same fear when he was fourteen and left to train at Taicang Mountain; when he woke up in the Heavenly Capital after his first ascension. Nothing bad happened then. Why would it be any different now?
Besides, Xie Lian won’t be alone. He has Ban Yue—his gentle ghost child, the daughter life blessed him with—and Hua Cheng—the one who turned his life upside down and gave him so much more than he could ever ask for. There’s nothing to fear, not as long as they’re by his side.
Stronger than the anxiety, however, is the excitement. Xie Lian’s inner omega is vibrating inside him at the prospect of going to Hua Cheng’s place. His alpha’s den, a place overflowing with Hua Cheng’s scent, is sure to be Xie Lian’s safe heaven.
His hands shake, not from fear, but from exhilaration.
Hua Cheng’s hands cover them. They’re soft and gentle and familiar. Xie Lian’s face turns a deeper shade of red, matching Hua Cheng’s maple-red robes. He wishes those hands would touch him again, touch him more, everywhere—“Gege,” he calls, his voice almost reverent. Xie Lian loves this gege far more than Your Highness. “Are you sure?”
“I am.” Xie Lian runs his thumb over Hua Cheng’s. He smiles. “If San Lang is too.”
Hua Cheng’s smile widens. “There’s nothing this San Lang wants more in the world.”
Xie Lian averts his gaze, unsure of how to answer to that, certain he can’t hide how pleased his scent turns in response. “Ban Yue was excited too,” he says almost sheepishly.
“Hm. I’ll see that she’s as comfortable as ghostly possible when we’re there.” Xie Lian can’t help but feel amused at his choice of words. Hua Cheng’s own scent grows a little stronger, light and pleasant. It’s obvious that he’s proud of himself—for his own joke or for making Xie Lian smile, Xie Lian will never know. “And she was right. Gege looks beautiful in red.”
Xie Lian pauses, then looks down at himself. He’s wearing his old, plain white robes, the same ones he’s used ever since Hua Cheng came to Puqi shrine. It takes an embarrassingly long time for him to remember their first encounter.
Oh.
“San Lang!” he practically squeals. For all Xie Lian didn’t mind back then and the memories didn’t bother him, he can’t help but feel overly self-conscious now that it’s Hua Cheng mentioning that night. Those wedding robes were simple and too tight for his body. It was a miracle that Xiao Ying even managed to make them comfortable to use. Nothing as elegant the ones Hua Cheng wears on a daily basis and not nearly as delicate as the carvings of those silver vambraces.
Xie Lian doesn’t voice any of those thoughts, but he suspects Hua Cheng knows exactly what’s going on in his mind. He always does, after all, which both scares and reassures him.
Even if words fail him, Xie Lian knows, Hua Cheng will find a way for him.
“There are many talents at Ghost City,” Hua Cheng says. “If gege wants, we can get you new robes. Robes befitted of a crown prince.”
“I’m not a prince anymore.”
“You are,” Hua Cheng retorts. His voice, his expression, the gentle squeeze of his hands leave no room for argument. “Your Highness will always be my prince. Unless...”
Xie Lian tilts his head. “Unless?”
“Unless Your Highness finds this lowly servant worthy of being your King.”
“So you did hear everything.” Xie Lian tries to sound serious, but the fondness in his voice is too obvious to ignore.
Hua Cheng doesn’t look sorry at all. “Only what really matters.”
“And how much is that?”
“Only what concerns Your Highness.”
Xie Lian shakes his head. He pulls Hua Cheng’s hands towards him. “This Highness will be pleased to accept this mighty King under one condition.”
Hua Cheng didn’t resist the soft pull. He walks around the table, kneeling before Xie Lian. His ponytail looks even more crooked now that they’re face to face. His own fault, Xie Lian recognizes, for he’s the one who messed with it to begin with.
His voice is barely a whisper. “And what is it?”
Xie Lian hums in contemplation. “Three conditions, actually.” Hua Cheng raises an eyebrow, amusement clear on his face. “First, San Lang will only call me gege from now on.”
Hua Cheng huffs out a laughter. “That can be arranged.”
Xie Lian smiles, pleased with the answer. Then, his face turns serious again. “Second, San Lang will tell me everything about him. As a human and as a ghost.”
Hua Cheng’s smile stiffens. He casts his gaze down, choosing his words carefully. It may be Xie Lian’s impression, but Hua Cheng’s hands are colder now, almost trembling. “That’s... Gege might not like what he finds.”
“Didn’t I already tell you?” Xie Lian reaches to touch the alpha’s face. The face he knows isn’t real but belongs to Hua Cheng nonetheless. And Hua Cheng— he is real . “If I hate you, you can be a King and I’ll still hate you. If I love you, you can be a beggar and I’ll still love you.”
Hua Cheng pauses. His chestnut-colored eyes flutter slightly before he smiles. “Gege didn’t say love before.”
Xie Lian’s expression softens. Of course Hua Cheng would notice. “It’s more appropriate like this.”
He traces Hua Cheng’s cheekbone with his fingertips. The touch is feather-light, more careful than he’d be with the most delicate of flowers. “And the third... My real face?”
“No,” Xie Lian replies easily. There’s no need to voice that request. Two nights ago, Hua Cheng promised him, someday . Xie Lian believes him and will just wait until someday comes. His voice turns sheepish again, “Third... Do that again?”
He doesn’t need to ask twice. Hua Cheng’s lips are already over his. Xie Lian expected to taste his bitter, burned soup on Hua Cheng, but feels only the familiar sweetness he came to associate with Hua Cheng. He sighs into the kiss. It’s gentle and chaste, just lips pressed together and curious hands holding onto each other.
Xie Lian breaks the kiss when the warmth becomes too much and his fingers itch to touch more than Hua Cheng’s face and shoulders, places that he’d never even considered before. It’s scary. It’s exhilarating. Xie Lian wants more of this.
His hold on Hua Cheng’s robes tightens slightly. “When we go... Will San Lang stay with me?”
“There is a matter that needs immediate attention,” he replies, truthful and honest to a fault, “but I believe it won’t take too long. It can’t take too long.”
Xie Lian inhales sharply. There’s a possessive growl on Hua Cheng’s voice that makes his inner omega purr in excitement. The sound doesn’t leave his lips—Xie Lian would die of embarrassment if it did—but he feels warm and fuzzy all the same.
“Think of it... As the time it’ll take to build a nest.” Hua Cheng’s voice sounds lighter now, almost cheerful.
Xie Lian perks up, eyes wide and hopeful. “I can build one there?!”
It’s been over eight hundred years since Xie Lian last built one, way before his first ascension. At first because he didn’t have money to buy supplies; then, because he lacked a proper home; then, Xie Lian became too busy collecting and selling scraps to have food; in the end, he just deemed it too much of a hassle for places he’d only stay at for so much time.
Hua Cheng’s eyes widen in surprise, then soften in a smile. “En. The most beautiful, with the finest supplies. All for gege.”
Xie Lian doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. He settles for hiding his face against Hua Cheng’s shoulder. “And San Lang too...”
Ghosts don’t need to breathe. Hua Cheng still lets out a deep, shuddering breath at his words. He places a kiss on top of Xie Lian’s head. “If that’s what gege wishes.”
“I do,” Xie Lian answers softly. He looks up at Hua Cheng, plants a light kiss on his cheek. “Can we go now?”
Hua Cheng smiles. With one hand, he holds Xie Lian’s waist and guides him towards the door; with the other, he holds out a pair of jaded dice. Ban Yue’s pot stumbles to follow them. Xie Lian holds the pot—his little girl—against his chest.
Hua Cheng tosses out the dices and catches them mid-air. He turns to Xie Lian, “Welcome to Paradise Manor.”
And the door opens to a whole new world.