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“I’m perfectly happy where I am,” says Xie Lian, his tone calm and reasonable in the way that suggests that Hua Cheng is the one being unreasonable.
“But where you are is inside a pumpkin,” says Hua Cheng, the low, hooting quality of his owl voice pitched noticeably higher than usual.
“As are you,” Xie Lian points out.
“Well, yes,” Hua Cheng concedes, and pulls his wings in more tightly against his body. The inside of the pumpkin is visibly sticky and he doesn’t even like it when tree sap gets on his feathers. Pumpkin pulp would be…well, he hasn’t ever experienced it so he can’t say for sure, but it seems like it would be infinitely more uncomfortable. “But only because you were in the pumpkin, and I wanted to talk to you.”
“And now that you’re here, you can see that it’s a perfectly adequate home,” says Xie Lian with a brilliant, heart-melting smile and a tone that accepts no argument. “It’s even edible!”
He reaches out to dig those blunt fingers into the wall and scrape off some pumpkin pulp. He takes a mouthful and smiles, like it is the greatest feast in the woods.
Hua Cheng has no doubt that this is more to do with what Xie Lian has been eating lately than the actual taste of the pumpkin. He takes an obedient peck of the wall anyway. It isn’t the worst taste in the world, but he’d still prefer a nice mouse, or a seed.
“Edible nests are not ideal,” says Hua Cheng, and tries not to sound judgmental or frustrated. (But make no mistake—he is both of those things. Judgmental at the world for putting Xie Lian in this situation, and frustrated that it is so hard to convince Xie Lian that he is obviously better than living in a pumpkin.) “What if something decides to eat your nest with you inside?”
“Then I and my pumpkin have been useful to someone, and that’s wonderful,” says Xie Lian with one of those beautiful smiles that made Hua Cheng’s stomach go a-swirling like it had forgotten which way was up.
“What about me?” asks Hua Cheng in his most doleful hoot that had never failed to earn him pets from Xie Lian when he’d been a regular-sized human. “How am I supposed to cope all alone when something ate you, just because you were living in an edible nest?”
“I think I’m not more or less likely to get eaten for being inside a pumpkin,” says Xie Lian with a wan smile. “No matter where I nest, something’s going to try to eat me. I might as well make the most of it and live somewhere different and exciting.”
Hua Cheng wars with himself for several long moments before making the suggestion that he’s been holding back since his very first glimpse of Xie Lian.
“How about my nest in a tree hollow? Would that be different and exciting enough to consider?”
Hua Cheng had been an owlet still too young to fly when his siblings had shoved him out of the tree hollow of his birth.
That should have been the end of him, alone and flightless on the forest floor with a broken wing.
But Xie Lian had found him there, cradled in him in the palm of his warm, full-sized human hand, and carried Hua Cheng home, where he’d made him a nest all his own in a drawer padded with blankets. Xie Lian had fed Hua Cheng insects with his bare hands, never losing the smile even when Hua Cheng had accidentally nipped skin with his clumsy beak. He’d left Hua Cheng a bowl of water—Hua Cheng hadn’t known until then what a luxury it could be, being able to quench one’s thirst on a whim.
Hua Cheng had desperately wanted to remain an owlet so he could remain with Xie Lian forever, but Xie Lian had insisted that he must fly free when he was fully grown.
You have to live free, Xie Lian had told him. You’re a wild animal, and humans aren’t going to be kind. I’ve done you a disservice, letting you grow so attached to me.
Hua Cheng had protested vehemently, but Xie Lian had only petted him on the head with a sad slope to his brow.
Xie Lian hadn’t been able to understand him, then.
So Hua Cheng had obeyed, because it was the only way he knew to show Xie Lian that he respected and loved him enough to heed his words, even when they smashed his heart to pieces.
But he’d watched over him all the same.
He’d nested in a tree near Xie Lian’s house, with a view of his kitchen window. Hua Cheng had never been a sound sleeper, and most times when he woke in the middle of the day, he would be greeted by the sight of Xie Lian moving around in his kitchen.
Xie Lian loved to cook, though other creatures from humans to animals were criminally rude whenever he tried to offer it to them.
Hua Cheng had only refrained from dealing out retribution because he’d known that Xie Lian would not approve, and because stalking all the offenders would cut into the time he could spend watching over Xie Lian himself.
And he knows now that he’d made the right choice all along, because he was there when the curse was cast and Xie Lian was miniaturized. He’d been there to keep the rat that lived in Xie Lian’s basement from eating Xie Lian.
He’d been there to offer his help when Xie Lian most needed it, which was all he’d ever wanted in life. That Xie Lian hadn’t recognized him didn’t matter. Xie Lian now understood his words, and talked with him, and had not yet told him to go away.
Hua Cheng knows it was presumptuous to find another tree hollow, this one well-protected by foliage deeper in the woods, and fill it with moss bedding that would surely be soft and welcoming on Xie Lian’s delicate human skin. But he hadn’t been able to help himself. It was perfect. It was the solution to Xie Lian’s situation—he would be comfortable and safe from predators of all kinds. That Hua Cheng would get to live with him, watch over him, feed him, care for him—this is a wonderful, wonderful bonus.
But first he had to find a way to convince Xie Lian to move out of his horrible, sticky, soon-to-be-rotting pumpkin.
He’d planned to be smoother, to ease Xie Lian into the idea—not just blurt it out the way he had.
“Your…nest?” says Xie Lian, cocking his head in that adorable way that had made Hua Cheng want to burrow his face into the crook of his neck when Xie Lian had been big; in that way that makes him want to take Xie Lian under his wing and keep him warm and safe now that he’s little.
“My nest,” Hua Cheng confirms, and is proud that his voice only wavers the tiniest bit.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly impose,” says Xie Lian, in a tone so heart-wrenchingly apologetic that Hua Cheng can’t help himself.
“It’s not imposing,” he hoots. “It’s—I made a whole new nest for you. Because I wanted you there. If you want to be there.”
Xie Lian blinks up at him, his mouth hanging open. Hua Cheng wishes for the days back when Xie Lian couldn’t understand his words.
“I’m not—I don’t mean you have to live there,” he amends. “I just…I made it because I wanted to. If you would prefer to live somewhere else, I’ll help you make a nest there—wherever it is you want. I just want you to be safe, and happy, gege.”
Xie Lian remains frozen in place for several long moments more. Just as Hua Cheng is losing his nerve (and what a strange phrase, that—losing his nerve, when nerves are what are coming into play at this moment) and is about to open his beak to make his excuses and take his leave—of course he’ll keep watching over Xie Lian, but he can do it from afar, the way he did before—Xie Lian speaks.
“I would love to see the nest you made for me, San Lang,” he says, his voice warm and affectionate, like Hua Cheng has finally done something right. “But I’m not sure if I could climb a tree.”
Hua Cheng barely manages not to ruffle his feathers as he realizes that he’s made a terrible presumption by making his nest for Xie Lian in a tree. He’d been thinking only of how wonderful it would feel to fly Xie Lian home each evening; not of how Xie Lian might feel to be so dependent upon him to leave or enter the nest that was supposedly his.
“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t even think,” says Hua Cheng, ducking his head. “Where would you like a nest to be? If it’s too low in a tree, it might be too easy for predators to access, but I can dig you a den, or find you a little cave, or—”
“San Lang,” Xie Lian cuts him off gently, “If there is a way, I would like to see the nest you already made.”
“I…” Hua Cheng has to take a moment to collect his thoughts. “If gege would allow me the honor of carrying him, I could fly you up to the nest on my back.”
Xie Lian frowns, and Hua Cheng feels his heart plummet with such force that he imagines it shattering the base of the pumpkin.
But, “Can you fly carrying me, though?” is what he asks, and Hua Cheng’s heart soars. He feels a little dizzy with the ferocity of his emotional loops through the air.
“Of course,” he says, and suspects he’s not managed to conceal how much he wants to carry Xie Lian. And yet the smile that covers Xie Lian’s face suggests that he doesn’t mind this.
“Then I would be honored if you would take me to see the nest,” says Xie Lian.
They step out of the pumpkin—at last, thinks Hua Cheng as he fluffs his feathers and stretches his wings—and Xie Lian looks shyly at Hua Cheng.
“Climb up, gege,” says Hua Cheng, hopping around so that his back is to Xie Lian. “I’ll try to keep the flight as smooth as possible, but hold on to my feathers or my neck or…whatever you would like to hold.”
Xie Lian climbs onto Hua Cheng’s back, and he takes off with more care than ever before.
True to his promise, he manages to keep the flight smooth and gentle.
“Thank you,” says Xie Lian as he climbs off in the tree hollow where Hua Cheng has made him a nest. He is a little unsteady on his feet, but when Hua Cheng turns around, he is wearing a bright, dazed smile on his face. Hua Cheng’s heart lurches sideways, and he thinks he will never forget this expression on Xie Lian. “That was…wonderful. I’ve never flown before, you know?”
“Humans can’t fly,” says Hua Cheng without thinking, because he feels just as dazed as Xie Lian looks, just from looking at him.
Xie Lian giggles. “Not unless they’re miniaturized and have an owl friend willing to carry them,” he whispers to Hua Cheng, like it’s a secret. Then he looks around the tree hollow, and his smile dissolves into awe. “San Lang!” he says, his voice still barely louder than a whisper. “Is this…is this really for me?”
“All yours, if you want it,” says Hua Cheng.
“And yours too, right?” asks Xie Lian, looking away from the hollow and back at Hua Cheng. “You’d live here too, right?”
It was exactly what Hua Cheng had hoped, but it felt shameful to say so to Xie Lian.
“If…if you would permit,” he manages.
Xie Lian’s eyes go ever so soft, and he raises his hands to the sides of Hua Cheng’s face.
He wonders what it would have been like to be bare-skinned like a human and feel those hands directly against his skin, rather than through his feathers. Even through his feathers, those soft human hands feel so very warm. He imagines that if he’d been human too, he would ignite on the spot.
“San Lang,” says Xie Lian, his eyes locked with Hua Cheng’s, “I’m so thankful for all you’ve done for me. I’m so lucky to have someone like you, watching over me and looking after me. I’m humbled that you’ve made me a beautiful, wonderful home, and would be honored to share it with you.”
“Gege,” Hua Cheng manages to croak. He dares to push his head forward, so that he and Xie Lian are forehead to forehead.
Xie Lian closes his eyes and presses back, his thumbs stroking the feathers of Hua Cheng’s cheaks.
“I’m so sorry I sent you away,” says Xie Lian, his voice soft and tinged with regret. “I don’t deserve your loyalty.”
“You deserve everything,” Hua Cheng says fiercely.
“So do you,” says Xie Lian, and when his eyes open and meet Hua Cheng’s again, they are burning with the intensity of truth.
Hua Cheng makes a purring noise in his throat. Xie Lian giggles and presses close, into the feathers of Hua Cheng’s chest.
“All I want is you,” Hua Cheng admits without quite meaning to, and then blinks in horror at his own words. “I mean—I want you to be happy, and I want to be by your side if you’ll let me be and—”
But Xie Lian is smiling up at him, all softness and affection and not a drop of judgement.
“I’m yours,” he says, like it’s that easy. And as he presses back into Hua Cheng, it seems that maybe—just maybe—it really is that easy.
“And I’m yours,” Hua Cheng says softly, and he means it with every fiber of his being. I’ve always been yours.
Xie Lian exhales in a sigh that feels like happiness, and Hua Cheng carefully wraps his wings around the tiny, precious human.
“Thank you for giving me a second chance, San Lang,” says Xie Lian, and Hua Cheng shakes his head sideways the way that humans do—but gently, so as not to dislodge Xie Lian.
“There’s no second chance to give, you were nothing but wonderful,” Hua Cheng says. “If I’d stayed with you, I wouldn’t have learned to fend for myself—I wouldn’t have known how to protect you properly when you were miniaturized.”
“San Lang,” says Xie Lian into his chest feathers.
“Gege,” says Hua Cheng, and turns his head to press his cheek to the top of Xie Lian’s head.
Songbirds chirp outside the tree hollow, signaling the break of dawn.
“Shall we sleep?” asks Xie Lian, pulling away from Hua Cheng to step into the moss nest that Hua Cheng has prepared for him. “Together?”
Hua Cheng’s heart does a lurch.
“But…you’re diurnal?” he manages.
“And you’re nocturnal,” says Xie Lian. “I don’t mind what time of day I wake or sleep—but I would rather sleep with you, if that’s alright?”
Of course it’s alright. It’s more than that—it’s a dream made real.
And so they sleep together in the bed of moss, Xie Lian pressed against Hua Cheng’s side and sheltered beneath his wing.
Hua Cheng closes his eyes and sinks into the most beautiful dreams he has ever dreamed.