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(1—Hong-er’s Non Special Day)
Hong-er is supposed to make it back home on time for dinner, that’s what his mother has made him promise. The young child has ventured out to the fields in hopes of gathering the end of day crops no one else wants, a feast, his mother will celebrate, regardless of how full or how empty Hong-er’s basket is.
The June sun shines down on his single uncovered eye as he hurries through the dirt path road, his small legs moving as if possessed, as if someone is chasing him in the silence. Hong-er knows he must be fast, must be quick, because to slow down would mean—
“It’s the freak!”
“Devil child!”
“Get him!”
Too late.
The shouts of other neighborhood boys reach his ears and he doesn’t need to stop and pinpoint them to know that they are already hurrying after him. They’ve gotten better, sneakier, waiting for him on the open road with his last little chance of escaping.
But he’s also gotten faster.
The pinprick of rocks hitting the back of his head and lower back fuels his speed. He knows that if he is caught he will go back home cropless and hurt. He knows it will make his mother (more) sad. She is looking so tired lately. So frail. And today is supposed to be a day of joy, she told him before he left.
It’s your day of birth, little one, she explained with a weakened smile.
“Unlucky child! No one wants you!”
“You never should’ve been born!”
Hong-er uses the insults as fuel too, he runs, and runs, and runs, feeling his bare feet cutting skin against the pebbles on the ground.
But the only hurt he receives is his own and not someone else’s. He manages to get away.
By the time he gets home he is panting, sweat sticking to every part of his body, the humidity in the air promising rain. He has no vegetables for his mother. But he is not hurt and so she can’t be too sad.
The four walls they call home are empty. No fire to cook.
A single bun lies on the table. His mom has probably had to work late again. To feed him and his siblings.
He has failed the basic task of bringing vegetables back.
Hong-er approaches the bun, knows she probably left it there for him to find, a day of birth gift.
A gift for what? Being born?
You are a child of calamity.
Reaching for a cloth, Hong-er covers the bun. His family deserves it more than he does.
(2 — Ghost City’s Gratitude)
Ghost City is in a cheerful uproar. Their benevolent yet fierce master is home. Tonight the drinks will flow, the bodies will sway, and the food will be unending.
Any Ghost City resident could say that’s nothing out of the ordinary.
Except tonight the praises for their Chengzhu will be louder, mocking the heavens as their prayers of gratitude and good fortune rattle the very Emperor’s gates.
Long Live Hua Chengzhu, our gracious Ghost King. Who only recently fought his way out of the terrible Mount Tonglu. Who slaughtered all ghosts before him. The only rightful ruler.
He deserves a parade. No, he deserves a whole week worth of celebrations. No, a month. A year .
Thank the three realms for the master’s birth. The earth must’ve stood still in the hour of his birth, pausing in reverence as it recognized the soul that would one day rule over all of them.
Ghost City embraces the festivities. Anything for their king.
The king in question, the honored and celebrated, remains far away from it all, sitting in one of his many rooms in Paradise Manor.
Even from here, he can hear the chants, the songs, the cheers.
Hua Cheng stands, long maple red robes swaying with him as he approaches the closest window. His crimson eye narrows at the sound of drums, the parade is now making its way closer to his abode. His hand flexes, rage ignites, these fools will find any excuse to waste their time.
What must it be like? To live in blissful ignorance where there is always an excuse to ignore reality?
He moves away from the window, away from the cheers, away from the praises.
Let those fools enjoy it all. Let someone else enjoy it all.
(3 — He Xuan’s Curiosity)
Hua Cheng takes a small, childish delight in forcing the door shut before He Xuan’s unamused face.
“I don’t remember asking you to come today.” He speaks to solid wood, knowing the other Calamity is probably glaring at the door by now.
“You did not. There’s a shit ton of food outside, like a banquet.” Comes He Xuan’s deadpan reply.
“And?” Hua Cheng offers, door still firmly shut.
“You having a party?” And you didn’t invite me , goes unspoken because the mighty Blackwater Sinking Ships is not about to sound offended.
“Are you stupid?” Hua Cheng speaks in response.
“It’s a shit ton of food. Everyone outside is throwing a big party.”
“You know, I have servants that inform me of the day to day happenings. I do keep excellent care of my city, after all. I don’t need trash to come and tell me what I already know.”
A thud, Hua Cheng rolls his eye, He Xuan is clearly reclining against the door now.
“I heard a rumor. As to why they’re partying.”
Hua Cheng considers using his dice to teleport away, wondering how long it’d take for He Xuan to realize he’s talking to no one.
“I heard it’s your birth—”
Hua Cheng opens the door with a violent flick of his wrist.
He Xuan is standing perfectly upright, not even ruffled by the sudden change. Boo .
“So, is it?” He Xuan presses again, eyes remarkably dull for someone so nosy.
“You know what we could make it? Your death day.” Hua Cheng grits.
“I am already dead.”
Ugh . Hua Cheng walked right into that one.
He Xuan glances away from him, back to the empty corridor.
“You gonna eat that food? It’s for you, after all. Big day.”
Hua Cheng seethes, “Get the fuck out or I’ll raise your debt for every second you remain in my presence.”
“K. Happy Birth—”
“I’m already counting.”
With a disdainful toss of his long mane, He Xuan makes his way down the corridor, his inky black robes merging with the shadows.
By the time Hua Cheng decides to roam his own hallways, He Xuan is far gone (though Hua Cheng will absolutely be counting those minutes he took to walk away from him, the idiot). He’s on his way to the armoury when he happens to walk past the room that would in theory be used as a dining hall if Hua Cheng hosted such things (he does not). A quick glance confirms what He Xuan said—
There was a shit ton of food here.
Now, most of it is gone. Though a pile of buns has been left untouched and appears to still be steaming.
Hua Cheng’s lips curl in disgust as he looks at the empty plates, scraped so thoroughly— as if someone took the time to consume every last bit. No crumb or speck of sauce left.
Fucking glutton.
Good for him, the simpleton,someone should take advantage of this feast.
(4 — Yin Yu’s Gift)
“Anything of importance?” Hua Cheng asks, his pace not slowing down as he hurries his way down the manor. Yin Yu keeps up, completely unperturbed.
“Couple of restless spirits in the northern quarters, and apparently there’s a debate as to whether to proceed with a dismemberment in the Gambler’s Den.”
Hua Cheng scoffs, “Idiots. Deal with it.”
Yin Yu bows in acknowledgement while continuing to keep up.
“You’re still following me. Anything else?” Irritation leaks into Hua Cheng’s words.
“I’ve cleared the rest of your agenda.”
“Why?”
A pause. So brief it could almost be not noticeable, but Hua Cheng has learned to read Yin Yu well enough by now that that pause might as well be nervous silence. Interesting. “You may do with your day as you please, no interruptions.”
Hua Cheng arches an annoyed eyebrow, “I always do as I please. Why now?”
Yin Yu doesn’t even seem perturbed by Hua Cheng’s growing anger. The fool has only been with him for a couple of months and not once has he cower before him. Hua Cheng doesn’t know if it’s blind loyalty or a desire to court eternal demise.
“I apologize if this is impertinent of me but I believe it’d be good for this city’s master to attend the yearly parade, perhaps even once. For the city’s morale.”
“For the city’s morale . You’re telling me these scums need morale boosting.”
Yin Yu minutely shakes his head, “Hua Chengzhu knows best.”
“I’ll watch from the manor. You can tell them that.”
“Tell them that?” Yin Yu actually slows down his pace.
Hua Cheng turns to face him, the smaller man already coming down on one knee before him.
“Yes. Give a little speech. For morale.” His smirk is childishly petulant. “Now, if you truly cleared my agenda as you’ve mentioned, leave me alone.”
Yin Yu nods at once, “Of course. Enjoy your day, sir.” And just like a passing cloud, he is gone.
Hua Cheng hums to himself, perhaps he’ll visit the mortal realm for a change. Yin Yu will attend the parade in his presence, after all.
This will be the first time Yin Yu experiences this dumb festivity. Let someone else deal with the noise. Let someone else take it all in.
(5 — The Dispersed Ghost King)
It is empty.
It feels empty. An oppressing solitude.
The void is quiet.
He is not bothered by it. He is used to loneliness.
His spirit pulsates with restlessness.
Not yet.
A pang of sadness.
Not for himself. Not for his circumstances. Whatever horrid fate is intended for him he will gladly accept it a thousand times over if it ensures his beloved’s safety.
But he feels sadness for the soft honey eyes that shed tears at his disappearance.
I made gege sad.
Idiot. Useless.
I’m sorry, Dianxia, there is truly no banquet that doesn’t come to an end.
You made gege sad.
Irrevocable.
He must change that.
He must go back.
Please wait, gege. This lowly one will return.
(+1 — A Beloved’s Birthday Wish)
Hua Cheng has recently gotten into the habit of sleeping. He did not use to, before. He has no need of sleep, after all.
But he has come to enjoy the idea of going to bed and waking up with someone.
Not just any someone, of course. His beloved.
Which is why, the mighty Crimson Rain Sought Flower is currently pouting so early in the morning. He has woken up to an empty bed. No sign of Dianxia anywhere.
He is here, of course. In Paradise Manor. He can feel the gentle thrum of gege’s energy, pulling him calling him. But he is not here. In bed. Sprawled on top of Hua Cheng like he normally is.
They have a morning routine. Quiet mornings are for cuddling, for conversing, hidden from their responsibilities. Hua Cheng would gladly slaughter anyone who’d dare to disrupt that. If those foolish, useless gods have done something (again) to create problems that gege must be solving so early in the day, Hua Cheng will climb unto heaven and threaten them (again.)
The door opens.
“Ah! San Lang, you’re awake.” Xie Lian sounds…disappointed? With him?
Hua Cheng’s heart clenches, already sitting up, a million apologies on the tip of his tongue for whatever he has done (It was bound to happen) to make Xie Lian upset.
He blinks. Xie Lian stands in the doorway, beautiful as always, but face covered in flour.
He blushes as he catches Hua Cheng staring, a white sleeve coming to brush the flour off his right cheek.
“I was hoping to find you asleep, I was going to surprise you with a cake but I had to start over because the oven caught fire— actually, I’m surprised the explosion did not wake you, San Lang!” A smile, “You sleep so deeply, it’s good for you. To recover energy.”
Hua Cheng folds his legs, his sleepy brain trying to process everything his husband is saying.
“Explosion?” Is all he can focus on.
Xie Lian is walking towards him, waving his hand in a ‘don’t worry about it’ motion, “I’m alright. Thankfully no one else was in the kitchen when it happened, though, you might need a new counter.” He reaches the bed, where Hua Cheng is absent mindedly patting the space between his legs.
Xie Lian starts climbing onto his lap, still talking, “Anyway, it was meant to be a surprise in bed kind of thing but it’ll still be a surprise, okay? No sneaking into the kitchen until it’s done.” Hua Cheng now finds himself face to face with honey gold eyes.
He leans forward and kisses Xie Lian’s lips, a gentle peck. “Good morning.”
Xie Lian actually giggles, “Goodness. Are you still half asleep?” He leans forward too, returning the kiss, “Good morning, husband.”
Husband.
The word still creates a mix of emotions in Hua Cheng’s heart. Joy. Disbelief. Fear that one day Xie Lian will wake up and decide all of this has been a mistake and he could do better—
Another kiss, deeper this time, Xie Lian’s hands coming to rest around Hua Cheng’s neck, where his simple inner robe slips slightly, leaving a bare shoulder.
“Happy birthday, San Lang.”
Hua Cheng’s hands are making slow circles on Xie Lian’s hips, “Gege, it’s only another day. Is that why you lost sleep? Don’t waste your time on a cake for this one.”
A poke against his cheek, “San Lang! It’s your birthday. You always make sure my birthday is special.”
Because you are special, gege . He glances away, hoping the thought doesn’t reflect on his upturned mouth.
But his gege is too smart, of course. Hands leave his neck and gently force him to look back at Xie Lian, who is frowning.
“San Lang. To me, this is an incredibly special day. Your existence is special.”
Hua Cheng feels heat rising to his cheeks. They’ve had multiple conversations about this, about Hua Cheng’s spells of self pitying. He knows they make gege sad. He is trying to be better about it. He can’t even give him this, he can’t even make this right.
“Ah, San Lang, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry.” Xie Lian nuzzles his cheek, “It’s your special day, San Lang is not allowed to be upset today, only happy, and this gege will be at his beck and call!”
“Gege” Hua Cheng groans, embarrassed.
Xie Lian nuzzles against his collarbone now, “Yin Yu even cleared the agenda for you! Did you know that? And I heard the ghosts talking about a parade? They have a parade for you, San Lang! I can’t wait to see it. Will there be a feast?”
Xie Lian’s excitement, almost infantile in its sincerity, is contagious. Hua Cheng smiles.
“The biggest feast, gege.”
Xie Lian claps his hands in delight, “Can’t wait to celebrate you all day, my San Lang.”
And here, in the comfort of their bedroom, with Xie Lian’s happiness so palpable, Hua Cheng allows himself to laugh in delight as well.
Perhaps, this time, it’s alright for him— for them— to enjoy it all.