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It's stupid, really.
Xie Lian has been alive for over eight hundred years, the vast majority of which he's spent as a drifter. He's no longer the naïve princeling he once was, bright-eyed and foolishly optimistic. He's seen the worst of humanity, time and time again, far more often than he's seen the best of it. He's been tricked and swindled and conned, has been back-stabbed and misled.
And yet he still finds himself in these situations.
Stupid, he berates harshly, grimacing as he tries to run. So stupid.
It had been a fairly productive day, all things considered, and he'd been feeling pretty good about himself as he'd walked the long road back to his rundown shrine. He'd just begun contemplating dinner, and whether or not he should bother Hua Cheng with an invitation, when he'd seen the body of a man lying unmoving in the dirt up ahead.
And Xie Lian knew that it could be a trap - had been tricked like this many times before in fact. Bandits liked to use this trick on kind-hearted travelers, getting them to lower their guards to help a supposedly-injured victim while the rest of their group hid nearby, ready to attack. It was vicious and cruel but affective.
For him, at least, it was usually worth the risk. What was there for him to lose, after all? It wasn't like he ever had much for them to rob him of, and when they got angry enough to hurt him, well, it wasn't like he could really die, right? And what if it was someone who genuinely needed help? How could he possibly chance it and just keep walking?
He'd figured it would be the same this time, just mercenaries or bandits playing tricks to snag victims. And while he'd be sad to see the things he'd purchased today go, it would be no real big loss. In fact, having someone else take and use them was a far better outcome than his misfortune causing them to be destroyed.
He thought he'd be prepared for anything, as he stooped to check on the man laying on the ground. Was unsurprised at the immediate grip on his wrist and the nearby outcry of, "Grab him!" He went without a fight, letting his arms be held down, staying docile on his knees even as he was surrounded by four more men. It was fine. No matter what happened now, it would be fine.
And then the biggest and burliest of them opened his mouth and demanded, "Call Hua Cheng here!"
That was the moment he realized that things were very much not fine.
As soon as that name was spoken, he'd wrenched his arms free, elbowing one in the gut and kicking out the knee of another, fully prepared to make a run for it. This wasn't a robbery, as he'd thought, but a kidnapping.
He only makes it three steps before a weight crashes into him, bearing him to the ground, and the world goes dark.
Xie Lian comes to slowly, painfully, with his heart beat throbbing through his head.
It takes a moment for him to understand what's happened and why he hurts so much. He's used to pain, at this point, usually feels at least a dull ache at all times, but this is different, this is immediate. And, as much as he hates to admit it, spending so much time with Hua Cheng might have been spoiling him. He can't really remember the last time he felt so battered.
Thinking of Hua Cheng, though, has him jolting in place, unsurprised to find his arms tied above his head as the memories of what happened finally clear in his mind. A quick glance shows that he's in what looks to be a small empty room with only a single door, which is firmly shut. The walls and the floor are made of cold stone and only a single lamp, left flickering in the opposite corner, provides any light. Xie Lian himself has been left half-propped against a wall, legs numb where they're bent beneath him and arms held secure by thick rope tied tightly through a metal hoop. He gives a few experimental tugs, ignoring the way his shoulders scream with practiced ease, and only grimaces when this does nothing but rub his wrists raw.
He may not have much - or anything, really - in the way of spiritual power, thanks to the cursed shackle surrounding his throat, but he's still a god now. And, even before his third ascension, he's never been weak. He should be capable of tearing through ropes like this with very little trouble.
Which means that either he's been given some kind of drug to weaken him or his power has been even further sealed since he's lost consciousness. He doesn't know which option is more unappealing, really.
His head, at least, feels clear, beyond the throbbing that still persists. He likely hit it when he'd been tackled, at least he assumes as much. Bending and stretching his neck makes him aware of how tight the skin behind his left ear is and he guesses it must be a patch of dried blood. He ignores the discomfort and continues downward, tensing and flexing each muscle as he goes, trying to determine what's injured and what's just sore from being laid out on hard stone like this for who-knows how long.
In the end, he thinks he's more or less alright. A few bruises and scrapes from the fall and likely being dragged. His right ankle twinges a bit, probably twisted, but it's ignorable. He's had far, far worse.
Content with his own condition, Xie Lian is just about to move on to his next concern - getting his arms free - when the sound of footsteps outside the door have him freezing in place. Quickly, he lets himself slump back down, hanging his head to allow his hair to curtain his open eyes, and barely has time to get his breathing in the deep pattern of unconsciousness before the door is flung open violently.
"Wake up already!" A harsh voice demands, and he watches as old, worn boots stomp their way to him. "We've waited long enough! Are you a god or aren't you?!"
"Barely one!" A voice jeers from the door, and the amount of answering snickers tells him that there's at least three more waiting beyond. "Trash God is what people call him, nothing but a scrap collector."
"That so?" The boots come to a stop right in front of him and he braces himself, knowing what's coming just from the shift of their weight. A moment later he's proven correct when one of those boots kicks him solidly in the ribs. Even prepared, he still wheezes out a breath despite himself. The group laughs, the one who'd hit him loudest of all, and then a large hand is gripping him by the roots of his hair to drag his head up, forcing him to meet his captor eye to eye. "Is that all you are? What a disgusting thing you must be, crawling around in shit like a bug, to be named the god of trash."
Xie Lian doesn't rise to the bait, having heard far worse many times before, and simply stares back placidly. The man before him is large, easily towering over him, and covered in thick muscle. Half of his face is hidden by a thick, unkempt beard, his skin rough and sun-dark, and there's a jagged scar running over the bridge of his crooked nose. The grin he's baring is missing several teeth and the clothes he's wearing are dark and worn ragged. With the light source behind his imposing frame, the shadows cast about his face make him look truly demonic, though Xie Lian is fairly certain he's only human.
"Makes sense, though!" The same voice from earlier calls, and he sounds young, maybe in his late teens. "Given how close he supposedly is with trash like Hua Cheng."
His captor barks out a laugh and Xie Lian tries not to wince when his hand tightens, yanking at his hair. "Too true! So, here's what's going to happen, little god. You're going to call Hua Cheng and beg him to come rescue you. And if you do that, we're not going to beat you until your bones break. Sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?"
Xie Lian has become weak and he knows it. Centuries ago, such a threat from such a person would be laughable. He'd be able to flex his wrists and the ropes binding him would snap. One thrust of his arm and the man before him would be swept away. He wouldn't even need to draw his sword to deal with the rest of them. In fact, he never would've been caught in the first place.
And yet here he is, trapped and powerless and unable to do a thing. He shouldn't have any pride left, not after so many years of having to scrape to his very lowest, and yet he still feels the sharp sting of the knowledge that there is nothing he can do to get out of this. His options have been laid out for him clearly: call Hua Cheng and lead him into a trap, a trap that the Ghost King will surely spring without a second thought in order to help Xie Lian, or accept whatever pain is coming.
Xie Lian can't do much.
But he can do this.
And so he takes a deep breath, takes a moment to center himself, to prepare himself mentally for the brutal beating that's sure to follow, and then meets his captor's dark gaze with a steely glare. "I won't."
His captor grins, and the gaps of his missing teeth make it look like a black maw ready to swallow him whole. "Oh, little god, I was hoping you'd say that."
Xie Lian knows pain.
He's known pain intimately since he was still heralded as the God Pleasing Crown Prince. Has experienced every pain imaginable, in the centuries since. Has died countless times in countless ways. He's been pulled apart and sewn back together, so much so that some days he can't wrap his head around the fact that his body is still whole and practically unblemished, beyond the shackles etched into his skin.
This is nothing, really. The fists and feet raining down on him are nothing. He breathes through it when he can, chokes on blood when he can't, and it continues on. Eventually the big guy gets tired, or maybe bored, and steps aside for the next in line. It's the young one, the one who'd been jeering so cheerfully earlier, and he looks just as happy now, if not happier, to be able to cause pain of his own. He's skinny, though, and his hits feel like nothing after the mountain of a man that came before him. He seems to realize this too because he instead pulls out a knife from his belt and begins to stab.
And even this is nothing. Even as skin splits and his blood begins to flow, he tells himself over and over again that it's nothing. He's been through so much worse and it's not even the first time someone has gone as him with a blade like this. It's worth it, if it protects Hua Cheng. If this is all that he can do then he'll do it, gladly, for as long as it takes.
Maybe they'll all get bored, soon. Maybe they'll give up. Maybe they'll keep at it for days on end, weeks, months. Maybe this will be his eternity. Maybe it will never end.
The blade plunges again and buries itself deeply and he gurgles as blood bubbles passed his lips, hot and foaming. His lungs have been nicked more than once, he knows, and he can't breathe properly anymore. Black is beginning to edge his vision and heart pounding with instinctive panic, and he's thankful that while he won't stay dead, he'll at least get a brief reprieve while his body succumbs and resets. It won't take long and who knows if they'll even stop after he passes out - after he dies - but even a few seconds would be enough.
It hurts, it hurts, it always hurts. He's felt pain so many times and he's used to it but it always hurts.
This pain is worth it. For Hua Cheng, for the man that has given him so much, has done so much for him and has asked for nothing in return. To protect him from any kind of harm, this pain is worth it. It's the most worthwhile pain he's ever felt in his long life.
The knife pulls out of his with a horrid squelch and plunges again, grinding against his ribs, and he feels something pulled taut around his neck snap free. He barely notices, too preoccupied with trying to ignore the way the blade feels as it exits his chest once more, too focused on ignoring the way his mind tries to imagine a figure in white standing beside him. He's not there - Xie Lian knows that he's not there - but the memories haunt him regardless.
The man above him is grinning so wide, face splattered with crimson and eyes wild with a horrifying amount of excitement. He's seen a lot of people find enjoyment in causing pain but never like this and he's scared, in a distant, hard-to-reach way.
"You're so pretty like this," he whispers and grinds the knife in, and Xie Lian feels sick. He turns his head away to spew more blood and the man laughs, delighted. "You bleed so well, trash god. I've stabbed you so many times and you still haven't died. Will you? Will you die and then come back? I could do this over and over. Maybe I won't let you call that trash ghost after all, even when you break. Maybe I'll keep you instead."
"Hey now," the brute from before calls, and Xie Lian's traitorous heart lurches in relief at the interruption before he continues, "do whatever you want to him but don't forget our goal. You can have what's left of him after Hua Cheng is dead for good."
"Hear that, pretty trash?" He's choking, that knife buried so deep it's almost severing his spine, and he just wants to die. He wants to die already, wants to black out, wants to plug his ears and not listen to any of this anymore. "We're gonna have so much fun. Why don't you call your little trash ghost king so we can get that all taken care of, huh? You want to see him, don't you? Don't you want him to come and save you?"
He does. He wants that so badly. Has never wanted to see Hua Cheng so badly in his life.
But he won't. He won't.
Xie Lian turns his head further, lets out another mouthful of blood, and doesn't make a sound.
He hears a sigh, full of mock disappointment, and then the grip on the handle tightens and the knife is pulled from him slowly, so slowly, and he's pretty sure there are chunks of his lung stuck to it. His chest cavity doesn't even look human anymore and he doesn't understand why he's still conscious, doesn't understand why his mind hasn't let go yet, he just wants it to stop -
A glint catches his eye and he latches on to it, anything to distract himself from this, and he blinks when his foggy vision focuses on a ring on the ground beside him. A very familiar ring, a ring that he'd last seen hanging from a chain around his neck. The chain is there, still, but it's broken. He shouldn't be surprised - of course it'd break with what's been happening - and should feel relieved that it was only the chain itself that seems to have been damaged. Instead he's feeling panic creep through his veins again because that was a gift.
That was a gift and it was important and he can't lose it, he can't, he has to get it back! He needs it! It's his, his San Lang gave it to him, he can't let them take it!
He's whimpering, suddenly, eyes filling with tears in a way the violence thus far has been unable to achieve, and he barely registers the way the body above his makes a noise of appreciation before the whole world goes white.
He thinks he's passed out, finally; that he's died and that's why everything is suddenly so bright and so loud. And then he hears it.
"Gege!"
Hands are on him, full of a gentle kind of desperation, and it's then that he realizes that the weight over him is gone, the cold metal of the knife removed. The white sparking in his vision isn't impending death but the glow of butterflies, hundreds of them swarming, and he can hear screaming but he can't see where it's coming from.
Doesn't matter in the end, he supposes, because Hua Cheng is on his knees beside him, face twisted in agony but otherwise looking completely unharmed.
"Dianxia, oh, gods, no, no, look at me," he's pleading, begging, and Xie Lian does as asked, letting his foggy eyes travel up to meet that frantic gaze. "I've got you, okay? You'll be okay, I'll make you okay, I promise."
"San -" He chokes, more blood bubbling up and out of him, and Hua Cheng hushes him, brows furrowed as he places his palms as lightly as he can on Xie Lian's torn apart chest and seems to begin practically pouring spiritual energy into him. Xie Lian grunts, ignores the babbled apologies that follow, and pushes on. "San - Lang. Safe."
"Yes, you're safe now," Hua Cheng reassures. He quirks his lips up in what's probably meant to be a smile but looks like nothing but a grimace. "You're safe, I've got you."
He's not getting it and Xie Lian needs him to get it. "No. You - safe. Kept - you - safe."
It's all he's got left in him, really. All of this, and Hua Cheng is here anyway, saving him again. But Xie Lian didn't break. Xie Lian didn't call for him, not once, no matter how much pain he felt, no matter how terrified he was. They beat him and tore him apart but he didn't break, he didn't call for help. He didn't scream, not once.
He feels so detached from his body, like none of this is real and neither is he, and he uses that thought to keep himself grounded.
"Worth it," the words are still ragged and torn but the healing is clearly starting to work because they're coming a bit easier now, not as wet or forced. "Kept - you safe. Worth it."
He can just see the beginnings of comprehension forming in Hua Cheng's eye, horror following swiftly after, when his mind finally calls it quits and he gratefully passes out.
When Xie Lian comes to, this time, he's warm.
He keeps his eyes closed anyway, taking the time to evaluate himself, and he's pleasantly surprised by the complete lack of pain. He should be used to that, by now, but it's difficult. It always takes his brain so much longer to catch up to the fact that he's healed. It's almost like missing a step you thought was there. It's disconcerting and disorienting but he's definitely not about to start complaining, especially when he remembers just what kind of state he was in the last time he'd been awake.
And then he remembers just who'd been with him and he decides that it's time to open his eyes after all.
He's in Paradise Manor, that much is obvious at once. He's never been anywhere else that manages to be opulent and minimalist so efficiently at the same time. The bed he's laid out on is massive and also the most comfortable thing he's ever been on - and that's including his bed from his childhood, though he barely remembers it - and is piled with thick blankets. There are nearly half a dozen pillows surrounding him and keeping him propped up and he can't help but huff out a faint laugh.
Honestly, who needs that many pillows? Hua Cheng is the biggest mother hen he's ever met, and he grew up with Feng Xin.
He pats at his chest, proving to his scrambled mind that it's whole and undamaged while also reassuring himself that the weight of the diamond-clear ring is once more around his neck, and sighs a breath in relief when both things prove true.
He's just about to start the arduous fight for freedom when he looks up and realizes that he's not alone and likely hasn't been this whole time.
"San Lang!"
Hua Cheng does nothing to respond, merely continues to gaze at him, and the longer the silence lasts, the dimmer Xie Lian's smile gets. It's not the first time Hua Cheng has turned such a blank look on him but it is the first time there's been an almost... fury, hidden underneath of it.
The seconds pass by until finally, voice small, Xie Lian asks, "...San Lang?"
"Why did they take you?"
Xie Lian jumps, flinching at the sudden, sharp words, and doesn't answer. It's obvious that Hua Cheng knows already, because that hadn't sounded like a question, for all that it had been phrased like one.
"Why? Why did they take you? Why did they hurt you?" In the silence that follows, Hua Cheng drags in a deep, shaky breath that he doesn't need. "And why didn't you call for me?"
He sounds mad, really truly mad, and Xie Lian supposes that he can't really blame him for it. "Sorry," he whispers, ducking his head to stare at the way his fists clench in the bedding. "I probably caused you a lot of trouble, huh?"
"Trouble?" Hua Cheng demands, surging to his feet, and Xie Lian has to make his hands relax before they tear through fabric so fine he probably couldn't afford it even after working for an entire decade. He's done enough damage as it is, no need to add to it. "That's what you want to call this?"
"You're right." Xie Lian swallows thickly and then shoves the blankets away from his lap, ignoring the discontent and alarmed noise Hua Cheng makes when he tries to stand and instead buckles to the floor. That's fine. That's where he'd been headed anyway. Since he's already there, he folds himself down until his forehead meets the plush rug underneath. "This one apologizes for what he's done. Not only was I unable to protect myself, I burdened you with - "
"Stop!" There are hands on his arms, pulling him upright once more, and he blinks at the desperate and agonized and furious look on Hua Cheng's face. It's not that he's never seen the Ghost King display emotions before but... never like this. "Stop, please! That's not - you really think that's why I'm upset? Because I had to rescue you?"
"You're... not?" Xie Lian's brows furrowed. "But... But I caused you so much trouble! And it was all worthless anyway! I was nothing but a burden the whole time!"
"No! I'm mad because you didn't call me!"
"Of course I didn't, that's what they wanted! It was a trap!"
"I don't care!"
"I do! I wasn't going to let them use me to get to you! What if they'd hurt you?"
"THEY HURT YOU!"
Xie Lian sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden shout, his next words dying on his tongue. Hua Cheng was gripping his shoulders tightly, probably more tightly than he realized, and his entire body seemed to be trembling with barely contained emotion. That wasn't what had stopped him, though. No, what had him frozen through was the sight of tears running from Hua Cheng's one good eye.
"They hurt you," the ghost repeated, softer, and he sounded like he'd been the one broken open. "You were - do you even know how badly they hurt you? You were torn apart, Dianxia. There was so much blood and I thought - I thought - "
"I'm okay, though," he reassured, and it sounded lacking even to his own ears. "San Lang, I'm fine. I was always going to be fine, no matter what they did to me. They could've killed me a hundred times and I'd still be okay. I've gone through worse before. And it was more than worth it to protect you. Not that you needed it, I guess," he laughed, an almost-painful sound devoid of any humor. "I got a bit full of myself, it seems. All that and you were able to beat them easily anyway. And then you even had to heal me! In the end I really couldn't do anything, huh?"
"That's not the point," Hua Cheng bit out, frustrated, and he looked desperate for Xie Lian to understand as he continued, "they hurt you to get to me. Nothing, not anything, is worth you getting hurt but especially not me. Please, Dianxia, you can't - this can't happen again. Please. Just because you can't die doesn't mean it doesn't hurt you."
Xie Lian blinked because... oh. "You... you're not upset that I caused you trouble but because I was injured?"
"You can cause me all the trouble you'd like. Always, every day, for the rest of forever, and I will welcome it with open arms. But," and here his voice broke again, and his gaze was pleading, "I cannot watch you bleed, Gege, Dianxia, my god, I can't. Not again. Please, I need you safe."
Oh.
Xie Lian was used to pain. He was used to the big pains and the small pains, everything from stab wounds to aching feet. He'd experienced it all, most several times, and he'd built up a tolerance to it. There was no point in dwelling on it, because it did no good to anyone, him least of all. Whining and crying would get him no where. Best to push through it until it stopped and then move on to the next hurt. It had been that way for centuries now.
There was no point in caring about the pain because nobody else would, either. His pain was a non-issue. It wouldn't kill him, not really, and he'd heal soon enough. That was all that had ever mattered before.
Until now. Because, looking at Hua Cheng who was gazing back at him with such raw sincerity, face wet with tears, on his knees and begging, it clearly mattered now.
"Oh," he choked out, his throat almost too tight to get the word out, and his vision blurred with tears of his own. Because.
Because when was the last time someone had cared about him and his hurts, not how capable or useful he was? Just him and only him?
"Dianxia," the hands on his shoulders slid down until he'd been pulled against a broad chest, arms wrapped securely around him, and he didn't fight the embrace, "I'm here now. And you can rely on me. I want you to rely on me. And when things like this happen, we can fight them together. You don't have to hurt for me."
Xie Lian was used to pain. But, sitting here, surrounded by love and safety and comfort, he was beginning to think that maybe he didn't have to be anymore.