Chapter Text
There had been a small river not far from where He Sheng– not yet known by his name 'He Xuan' alone, but a title of respect and not fear– lived, nestled in between crops and croppings of trees, where the unassuming and mellow waters upstream would quicken, roughen, as they passed He Xuan’s favorite spot, and the gentle waves would suddenly riot, shoving wave after wave under another until clear waters became murky torrents. Violent. He’d lost count of the people that drowned in them. And still he sat there, with his books or his fiance in stolen moments of borrowed time, watching. Searching. No matter how hard he looked, no matter how far he was able to walk in those few breaths that work and studying didn’t consume before they could leave his chest, he’d never found the end. Never saw where the river met its end.
Not that it mattered then. He Xuan’s thoughts only wandered to the future he saw at the tips of his fingers, one where his most detailed plan only went as far as becoming a scholar. It had segues for marriage, for having children, of course. Even made space for the typical hardship that came with their brand of life– injury, illness, all of the little intricacies of being human.
He didn’t plan for his fate to change.
He didn’t plan to lose everything.
Ming Yi stared at him. Blinked his silvering eyelashes under bushy silver and black brows. He’d lived a long life, less than his wife would have technically, and seemed all the more happy for what they had had together. “You- you’re stealing my ascension?”
It was a wretched twist of fate, to get revenge by doing the thing that was done to him. And still, after all these years of waiting and searching, he found himself with no other choice. Perhaps the part of He Xuan that had been He Sheng wouldn’t have, would’ve chosen the more righteous path, but that part of him had died the day his business was ruined. Had finally bled out fully after losing his sister, mother, and beloved.
The part of He Xuan that would come to become Black Water would, just as surely as he had drawn a blade, unaccustomed to its weight and sharp edge as any scholar would be, and slaughtered every person whoever wrongly stepped in his path.
And Black Water Sinking Ships…he would kill an innocent if that’s what it took.
He Xuan nodded as he walked away, twirling the Earth Master Shovel between his fingers idly. “If you want anything else in this throne room, let me know.”
“Wait, wait, this throne room is for me–? Can we just– please? Can’t we just talk–?”
Scholar He had been fond of conversation, could talk without forseeable end about ideas and happenings, all the little things he'd learned in his studies and observations. He Xuan could talk business, could make sales and profits with just a few clever words.
The Calamity let the doors to his room fall shut.
—---------------------------------
The first time He Xuan had truly bothered with General Xuan Zhen, he’d had Hua Cheng’s bitter litany of a ‘loyaless bastard, a selfish prick with no regard for anyone but himself’ ringing through his ears. He’d known of the god before then and didn’t care for him. Known him as the pretty immortal to roam the streets of Heaven, chasing all potential suitors and admirers that chased after him off with his wicked tongue and attitude.
He thinks nothing of the god and maybe that says more about He Xuan than it did of Xuan Zhen, but he doesn’t care.
“I want you to keep an eye on him,” Hua Cheng said, openly irritated in a way only He Xuan ever got to see. Not suave, not charming. Just anger and hatred contained like blood within a fake skin. “I want to know where he is and when. At least until the challenge and then,” he huffed a laugh, bitter, cruel. “He won’t be a problem any more. He–”
“Fine, it’s done,” He Xuan sighed dismissively, easing up out of his seat to approach the younger Calamity. He brushed a hand through Hua Cheng’s hair, already used to being affectionate towards a man with even more broken pieces and edges than He Xuan had in his lifetime, even with the way he broke more with every moment spent beside Shi Qingxuan, playing niceties when he only knew how to hate. “Can we talk of something else now or should I leave you to your griping?”
There were days when the pain was too much, weighted with helplessness. When the tears had run out, leaving the pain in its dehydrated wake, it could only then become rage.
Sometimes they collided in spars, sometimes…
Hua Cheng deflated, anger slipping away as he pulled He Xuan closer, dipping his head to tuck his face against He Xuan’s neck.
“Are you sure you want to talk?” He murmured, smirking.
He Xuan could picture it, charming and relaxed. Beneath Hua Cheng’s heady gaze, it was entrancing. He Xuan knew it better than he knew his own image.
“Not at all,” He Xuan muttered, clawing his own hands into Hua Cheng’s robes.
The point of his nails, clear varnished and ghastly, looked out of place among the red and silver finery draped on the other Supreme’s body, and He Xuan hurried to hide them, making them appear more human with their short, blunted edges. In the same thought, he let his spiritual flow through him the way Hua Cheng did, let it pulse like warm blood and make his chest rise and fall with breaths he didn’t need.
“Don’t,” Hua Cheng murmured, pulling away to frown. “You’re not…”
The next word could be ‘alive’ or it could be ‘him’ and either way it meant the same thing, even if Hua Cheng never finishes the thought. Never breaks that silent agreement between them.
Like this, when the chamber doors were shut and they pressed close to taste each other’s skin, the past would hover between them, untouched. Left unspoken. No reminders of what and who they really missed.
They never actually agreed to that, but He Xuan immediately stops regardless, letting the spiritual energy fade so the coldness of death and murky water far from the sun seeps back into his skin. Stopped breathing.
He knew he wasn’t the one Hua Cheng was waiting for, wasn’t the one the other Supremes thought of and missed. Wasn’t the one the man fought and survived for, would never be someone he lived for, no matter how much he warped himself into something else. Someone else.
He Xuan would only ever be a distraction even when, to him, Hua Cheng was anything but.
In his crueler moments, he wants to twist his hands in Hua Cheng’s hair and slam the man’s face against a mirror. Let the glass crack so his perfectly refined and chiseled image breaks with it. Wants to put him beside his beloved statues, decorated in golds and riches, and make Hua Cheng see himself up close.
What is your worth? He Xuan wants to scream. Wants to beat it into Hua Cheng’s skull. He barely noticed you— not when you were poor, not when he was. Just another common person, another tool, he could gloat about saving.
But he couldn’t, wouldn’t. Not when he knew Hua Cheng would close these doors to him forever if he did. And that…Hua Cheng thought he knew loneliness because it had been his only companion in life. Knew to expect the empty spaces beside him.
He Xuan knew better.
Just as a room didn’t feel empty until the things that were inside were taken out, loneliness never tasted so bitter until you knew what it was like to have not been alone.
At this point, it was merely another acquired taste.
He Xuan never wanted to taste it again.
He tells himself that at least he had the other Supreme for now, for whatever scant time had been afforded him, and he wouldn’t waste it. Tells himself that it shouldn’t bother him as much as it did, an arrangement meant only to be a meaningless fling while they had no one else, even though he knew it was really he who had no one else. Hua Cheng had his prince, and would always have his prince, immortal as the man was. What he and He Xuan had…
It wasn’t love.
(Sometimes, when logic and reason abandoned him, He Xuan thinks it could be. Thinks it could be where the river met the ocean and found its solace rather than another bend along its path that would be plundered and reaped and abused by the people and animals living along the edges.
Thinks, maybe if they tried, Hua Cheng could find that same peace in him.
It was easy to believe when Hua Cheng thought He Xuan was sleeping and murmured soft assurances, soft praises that He Xuan didn’t care to receive into his hair or against his skin. When that single-eyed gaze fixed on He Xuan’s demonic visage and the low candlelight or shimmery curtains of moonlight made Hua Cheng look almost pleased with whatever sight He Xuan made…
He could almost believe he didn’t look like the monster he knew he was. Almost could believe he was someone worth paying attention to.)
It wasn’t love, no matter how much He Xuan wished it was.
—---------------------------------
The once-intended god sat across from He Xuan, running his thumb along a bowl of congee thoughtfully, if a bit worriedly. “General Xuan Zhen is known for his kindness and generosity–”
“I’ve heard it’s ill-deserved,” He Xuan drawled, meeting Ming Yi’s eyes. He hadn’t intended for the man to have seen the letter he had drafted regarding his new ‘employment’, had become careless in the man’s constant company, as promised as the tick of time.
Something he realized, with dull surprise, didn’t bother him nearly as much as he thought it would.
“Praise earned from misunderstanding and faulty perception,” He Xuan continued, Hua Cheng’s words spilling from his lips as though his own thoughts.
That- that was a bit more concerning– he knew better than most the gravity of the other Supreme’s biases, knew it to be skewed towards a singular narrative when nothing in life was ever so simple. He’d have to be mindful of it when he met Xuan Zhen.
A look of despair crossed the other man’s face and he traced a pattern onto the table between him and the Supreme. “I hope not,” Ming Yi whispered, and he looked up at He Xuan forlornly. Pleadingly. “My grandchildren believe in him.”
Belief. He Xuan snorted. He had once put his faith in others, in the Heavens. Held so tightly, it took losing everything to bring sense to him.
“Then I suppose I would be saving them,” he sneered ruthlessly, shifting his skin and hair. Let himself become someone else.
As he turned away, boots clicking loudly in the silent manor, he heard the man murmur, “I wish someone saved you.”
He almost paused.
Didn’t.
It was far too late for him to turn back now.
—-----------------------------------
When He Xuan’s clone met Xuan Zhen a week later, standing before him and not even paying attention, too absorbed with whatever stupid argument he and Nan Yang had gotten into yet again, he was tempted to tell Hua Cheng to do his spying himself. He’d been purposeful in this clone’s appearance, made it closer to his own. A little more green in his once hazel eyes, fuller brows. A cruel scar that ran down the side of his face.
Xuan Zhen’s distaste for imperfections was well known.
But when the god turned to him, flicking his hair behind him and letting the ponytail smack against Nan Yang’s face, there was no outward reaction to He Xuan’s appearance.
“Did you want something?” The man arched a manicured brow. “Or have you nothing better to do than mind other people’s business?”
He Xuan almost snorted at the irony.
“This lowly one is Min Fa,” He Xuan murmured, bowing. “I—“
Recognition lit up the god’s eyes. “You’re my new junior official. Ling Wen told me you would be arriving today.”
So the general read his mail. That, at least, was reassuring. He Xuan had long had another clone in Ling Wen Palace, used it and its position to secure spots in other palaces. He’d lost count of the gods and goddesses that didn’t know when a clone of his would join them, the matter having been handled entirely and ineffectually by their overworked junior officials.
Mu Qing’s eyes glanced at the bell tower. Back to Min Fa.
“Punctual,” he nodded in what might have been approval if it weren’t said with such an unreadable expression, before turning on his heel and striding towards his palace without another word to Nan Yang. He Xuan followed behind quietly, easily keeping pace to hear the rest of what the god had to say. “Good. I accept nothing else without good reason.”
He Xuan nodded. “Understood, General.”
“I’ll show you around the palace– Ling Wen mentioned you’ve a proficiency in documentation and research, so I have some ideas of what duties might suit you best, but we’ll have to discuss to see which you’d prefer,” Mu Qing said as he strode into his palace, holding the door a bit so that He Xuan could follow. “Don’t expect someone to clean up after you– everyone here does their own tidying unless they’ve arranged something with each other about sharing chores. General cleaning outside of one’s own rooms, cooking, and laundry are the things the servants here will do unless otherwise is needed, but that’s not something to make a habit of. It’s also your responsibility to take your laundry to the washing area and collect them afterwards. I’ll show you where that is soon enough.”
He Xuan mentally paused at the flood of information, filtering through what he already knew. It was likely that the requirement of personal responsibility in housekeeping possibly had to do with the general’s own background of being a servant. Reasonably speaking, having attendants and servants would not only be practical, but also be a reminder of how his status has changed. It would, if the man were like any of the other people and heavenly officials He Xuan had met, been a point of pride.
How peculiar it was then, that when He Xuan noted as much, the general seemed to be displeased by the idea.
“You will see each other as equals here,” he snapped peevishly before regathering himself. He sniffed sharply. “No one here is to parent you nor you to parent anyone. If you expected otherwise, I’m sure other heavenly officials would agree and wouldn’t mind your joining them.”
He Xuan shook his head. “This one cares not for it.”
How tiresome, he thought, to limit one’s indulgences to the things life had granted them when it gave them so very little. To only just fit in in appearance rather than truly belong with the spoiled crowd of the gold-bathed royals of Heaven.
He cast a critical eye at the general’s fine robes, its subtle elegance. He Xuan had seen enough of the prince to know that Xuan Zhen had the eyes for tasteful, lavish ensembles. Could arrange them to flow and accentuate, arranging and decorating until a mere mortal prince looked more stunning than any god or goddess He Xuan had ever seen.
Xuan Zhen could do the same for himself— had the delicate features that such primping worked best with, that the prince, broader in build as he was portrayed to be, did not have.
But Xuan Zhen, always donned in the dark colors the poor in the mortal realm were made to wear, did not. Richer fabric and embroidered, yes, but just only enough to blend in without truly disappearing.
It made He Xuan want to rake his nails in deep, dig beneath the general's facade of unaffected obstinance, and tear until the enigma he claimed to be was revealed and resolved. Easy to read.
He would not get this god’s story, no monologue of his supposed greatness— Xuan Zhen and Nan Yang were surprisingly tight-lipped in self-praise when He Xuan listened in to the communications array— so he’d have to tread carefully. Find the motivations, learn how the god viewed his own place in this palace, this realm…
…And then He Xuan would know all he needed to make the god tick.
Hua Cheng would appreciate it for the debate challenge.
He Xuan idly admired the decorations in the palace, mentally bookmarking some to ask Ming Yi if he would like similar frivolities in his rooms. “General Xuan Zhen will allow me to choose which duties I wish to attend to?”
The general rolled his eyes, snorting delicately, the anger from earlier long gone. “Would you be as efficient if you were doing something you didn’t want to do?”
It almost sounded reasonable. Gracious.
He Xuan felt the beds of his nails throb, eager.
There wouldn’t be blood or violence, just the slow, mental dismemberment of all the general’s securities. Reaching and taking the man apart until there was no mystery. Until all his truths were bared. Until there wasn’t anything left for He Xuan to know.
It would only be a matter of time.
And, luckily enough, He Xuan had plenty of it.