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The lights of Puqi shrine shone orange in the darkness, the warm glow from the small windows and a handful of porch lanterns standing solitary in the blue dark. Wisps of steam escaped through the slats and eaves carrying the smell of cooking with them into the night.
Inside Xie Lian stood before the wood burning stove, idly bobbing on the balls of his feet to stretch his legs. A large wok full of what had once been beef and fermented beans and flat noodles, but which now looked ominously black and irretrievably gluey, bubbled and spat at him cheerfully over the heat. He tossed in a handful of thickly cut radishes and fresh greens which were slowly, miserably engulfed, disappearing without a trace into the sauce.
There wasn't even meant to be this much sauce. They'd have been better off eating the ingredients raw. Xie Lian sighed, then placed the wooden cover over the wok and admitted defeat. His calves and ankles wheezed in protest as he squatted to clean the hot embers out of the oven chamber; his back exacted punishment on him for his troubles by seizing painfully when he straightened back up. He grimaced and clenched his teeth as he shuffled across the room to the bed, sinking to his knees on the woven mat and blankets.
Xie Lian sighed at the instant relief, the ache in his ankles and hips relieving a little as he got his weight off his feet. He drew himself into the lotus position and began kneading his calf firmly, grinding his thumbs into the tight muscle. A persistent, burning complaint had settled in his lower back after standing for hours chopping, cooking, and cleaning. Hua Cheng routinely chided him for ignoring his needs - but without him here to remind him to sit down or lay a hand on the small of his back and wordlessly correct his posture, Xie Lian doggedly pushed through until the pain and fatigue became white noise. Unwelcome but familiar, discomfort had settled over his body and mind like a heavy fog with the passing hours, fatigue slowing first his movements and then his thoughts as his hands massaged his tight muscles from memory. Xie Lian continued to knead down his leg, then his feet, as he gently, unconsciously rocked back and forth on the mat.
The night outside Puqi shrine was still and cool and empty, nothing but Xie Lian surrounded by the high-pitched chirping of grasshoppers in this tiny oasis of warmth and light. His thoughts were a million miles away, lulled by the steady, comforting movement of his body, in Xianle. For a second, he was sixteen - or maybe fifteen, or thirteen. He'd crawl into bed drained from sword training, or social functions, or sometimes just because, and wrap himself in a snug, warm cocoon of sheets, monosyllabic. In his mind's eye, Feng Xin was covering the windows and doors to block out the light; Mu Qing was manoeuvring him from his day clothes into bedwear, removing his regalia and jewellery and bringing him tea; both were informing the sect and the household that 'taizi dianxia is not taking visitors today.' In silence they attended him, foregoing even their usual arguing, waiting patiently for business as usual.
Another memory of Xianle was approaching now, picking his way up the rocky path to the shrine in the dark. Xie Lian could sense him getting closer. After a whole day apart his pulse picked up in spite of his exhaustion.
The door slid open and Hua Cheng stepped in, dressed in his simple red San Lang robes and carrying a bulging burlap sack, his back to Xie Lian. Hua Cheng turned sharply to interrogate the meagre inside of the shrine when he was met with silence. Xie Lian tipped his head a little and gave a gentle, sleepy wave that said, San Lang! Welcome home. Hua Cheng's gaze yielded, shrugging on his unaffected demeanour once again. He deposited a sack on the table, cabbages poking out the top, and came to kneel at Xie Lian's side.
"Gege," he murmured, his right hand cupping Xie Lian's jaw, thumb tracing broad sweeps over the high swell of his cheekbone. "Is it a quiet day?"
Xie Lian nodded, pulling away from his touch so that he could bury his face against Hua Cheng's stomach. Both arms wrapped around his husband's trim waist and held him tight. Xie Lian soaked him in, then let out a long sigh, rubbing his cheeks against the red weave of his clothes. Hua Cheng hummed fondly, one arm pulling Xie Lian's shoulders closer while the other deftly released his hair from its bun and smoothed it out, his nails lightly massaging Xie Lian's scalp.
"Gege," he called softly again. "Why don't I take care of you tonight?"
San Lang takes care of me every night, he wanted to say, but the words died on his weary, leaden tongue. He squeezed Hua Cheng's middle and nuzzled him harder, trying to pour the words into him instead.
Steady, slender hands fell onto his shoulders and gently extracted him, drawing Xie Lian back and tipping his chin so that Hua Cheng could look at his lover fully. When he gazed up at his husband, San Lang was gone; in his place of his boyish softness were Hua Cheng's sharper, more mature features, his paler skin, two sockets but only one intense, adoring eye. Those clever hands trailed down his chest and began deftly unbelting his robes, sliding them off his shoulders so that they pooled at his waist. Hua Cheng leaned in and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his lips, and even the weariness that had burrowed into his bones couldn't stop a thrill from racing through his chest. Hua Cheng eased off his robes and his shirt, and gentle pressure on his chest had him falling backwards until his back met the bedsheets. Hua Cheng knelt over his legs and slid his hands under his lower back, coaxing him to raise his hips so that he could slide his trousers off as Xie Lian's mind drifted.
He raised an arm to catch Hua Cheng's attention and pointed at the covered wok on the other side of the room. For you.
Hua Cheng smiled and patted his leg. Later. He cupped Xie Lian's foot and raised it gently as he slipped off his socks, never breaking eye contact as he pressed his lips to his ankle, then another kiss to his heel, and a third to the arch of his foot which made his toes flex. Thank you.
Xie Lian dozed, his limbs growing lax under Hua Cheng's doting attention. The ache that had wrapped snugly around every muscle seemed to drain away with Hua Cheng’s massaging hands. The warm, low light bathed him in an orange glow and illuminated his high cheekbones, the curve of his pout, the proudly defined sweep of his jaw. Knelt at Xie Lian’s feet, the warmth of Puqi shrine infused the normally ashen features of his true form with something that, in Xie Lian’s exhausted vision, almost looked like life.
Cool hands left his skin, and Xie Lian was dimly aware of the sound of the wooden bath being pulled out from under the table as his vision swam. He heard the door open and then close, and a few moments later open again. He rested his eyes, lulled by the hollow rush of pouring water, measuring transient time by the changing tone of the bath gradually filling.
He was roused back to consciousness by a light but steady caress on his temple, Hua Cheng propping himself up on one arm and gazing down at him. The angle of his body was blocking the light, the sinuous line of his form swimming in a mellow, orange halo. Xie Lian pawed at him ineffectually, the robes he was trying to grasp slipping through his fingers like he was grabbing at butterflies. Sleep?
His husband caught his hands between his own and coaxed him into sitting up. "Bath first," he chided softly, cheekily. "Your San Lang spent so long warming it up."
Xie Lian huffed in disbelief. He received a wry, wolfish smile in return as Hua Cheng guided him towards the bath, the surface of the water gently steaming. Ruoye tried to coil itself protectively around Xie Lian's chest as he eased into the water, but Hua Cheng clicked his tongue at it disapprovingly. "You'll get wet," he warned.
Ruoye reluctantly unwound itself and wiggled a few times in the air in front of Hua Cheng then dramatically threw itself across the shrine's little altar, winding in between incense holders and bowls of oranges.
Xie Lian sighed happily as he slid fully into the water, his shoulders and knees poking above the waterline, the last remaining aches that lingered in his tight muscles seeping away. He grasped the edge of the bath and lifted a slender foot above the surface, idly wondering at the smooth, unblemished skin of his ankle where heavy black sigils used to be. His hair was swept to one side as Hua Cheng settled himself on his knees behind him; soft little kisses dropped onto his neck, his shoulders, the languorous flutter of his pulse. Hua Cheng nuzzled into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, his right hand skimming, feather-light, along Xie Lian's arm as he interlaced their fingers along the edge of the bath.
"Gege," he mumbled, muffled, against his skin. "Dianxia."
Xie Lian pressed his cheek into Hua Cheng's hair and inhaled deeply, breathing him in. San Lang.
The night air was still through the shrine, neither making any effort to move. Only the sounds of their breathing punctuated the silence, Hua Cheng kneeling behind his husband and god with his head bowed like a supplicant. His thumb traced back and forth over Xie Lian's, the other stroking the hair that hadn't got wet as his lower locks spilled freely around him in the water like spilled ink. Xie Lian leaned more heavily on Hua Cheng as he dozed, lethargic and desperate for sleep. Hua Cheng huffed into his neck when Xie Lian's head bobbed with the effort of keeping himself awake, dropping one last kiss to his shoulder. The hand that had been cupping the back of his head slid around his neck and gently tipped his head back by the chin so that his hair was submerged. Xie Lian released an involuntary, stuttering breath at the feeling of fingers on his throat, a thumb pressed lightly under his jaw, Hua Cheng's cool palm over his Adam's apple.
Hua Cheng's hands stilled for just a second. Xie Lian could feel him smiling just out of sight, his little white canines flashing with mischief. If he weren't so tired, maybe he'd encourage it.
But not tonight.
Hua Cheng seemed to come to the same conclusion. A gentle flex of his fingers over Xie Lian's slender neck and his hands were moving on, burying into his billowing tresses. One hand gently covered Xie Lian's forehead to prevent water from running into his eyes as Hua Cheng poured rice water over his hair and began massaging his scalp, combing his fingers from end to end to clear any tangles. Xie Lian hummed softly, eyes closed.
Hua Cheng finished with his hair and began washing his body with a cloth. Water sluiced over his back and shoulders as his husband guided him this way and that, firm but gentle. The baby hairs on the back of Xie Lian's neck tingled. Hua Cheng was so close, nearly touchable, just a breath away. He sighed when his arms reached around Xie Lian's middle to wash his front, practically embracing him from behind with only the wooden edge of the bathtub between them. Hua Cheng bumped Xie Lian's cheek with his nose, smiling against his flushed, damp skin.
Xie Lian caught his forearms and held him there, bumping him back. Nearly done?
"Almost," Hua Cheng confirmed, reaching up to gently dab his face with the wet cloth. Xie Lian presented his face obediently and closed his eyes. "There," Hua Cheng said, thumb brushing over the swell of Xie Lian's lower lip and lingering for a second before he rose to retrieve a set of towels.
Xie Lian had been in the bath so long, unaware of time passing outside, but the water was still pleasantly warm as though he'd just slipped in. He was bundled in soft towels as soon as he gingerly stepped out into the cooler night air, Hua Cheng adding gentle pressure to the towel over his head to squeeze water out of his hair. Xie Lian flopped onto their bed once again, a tangle of towels and damp black hair and long, sunkissed limbs.
Hua Cheng rose to retrieve Xie Lian's sleeping robes, fine white cotton and buttery soft like he knew Xie Lian liked, one of the little luxuries that he had been diligently reintroducing to him since they'd been married. Xie Lian's eyelids were threatening to close and stay that way, and he made urgent, sleepy grabby hands, his fingers sluggish and lazy. Taking too long.
Hua Cheng smirked, shrugging out of his own day clothes. He caught Xie Lian's hands and laced their fingers together, carefully disentangling his husband and the towels and replacing them with the white robe. Xie Lian made a soft hnnnn of impatience that he silenced with a kiss on the forehead.
"Good night, gege."
Xie Lian's eyes, barely cracked open and head pounding from the effort, finally shut as a soft gust extinguished the candles and Puqi shrine was swallowed by darkness. He reached for Hua Cheng just as an arm snaked around his waist and pulled him close, smoothing his damp hair away from his shoulders. Xie Lian burrowed firmly into the soft, inviting embrace of his husband.
Good night, San Lang.