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For the time that Xie Lian had come to know Hua Cheng, long before the events of Mount Tonglu and prior to the defeat of the now ex-Heavenly Emperor, the Crown Prince had noticed one sure thing.
The Crimson Rain Sought Flower had impeccable timing.
On numerous occasions over the span of their time together, he’d swoop in at the very last possible second in a flurry of red silks and silver butterflies. The entrances were dramatic, Xie Lian would admit, but in a way that pleasantly flustered him every single time without fail. Just recalling the time that the Ghost King stole up to the Heavens to sweep Xie Lian away is enough to make the Crown Prince’s heart race and then abruptly sink in his chest as he recalled the very same Ghost King dispersing into thin air. Regardless, Hua Cheng was thrilling in that sense and in many others, bringing a blistering spark of excitement back into Xie Lian’s life, making the year he was absent after his farewell devoid of any stimulation or joy whatsoever.
But Hua Cheng had impeccable timing and the flower trees that Xie Lian had so tirelessly spent the first month without his love fostering were nearing the end of their blooming period. That could only mean one thing.
He should be home soon.
But, as funny a thing as fate was, it wouldn’t be.
Xie Lian watched as those pink blossoms drifted away over time, petal by petal, until they were completely replaced by plentiful green leaves. They were still lovely, sure, but nothing worth his San Lang, and the Crown Prince found himself hating them in their liveliness. Each shade brighter they got was only nature’s cruel reminder of the passage of time and, with it, the further away Hua Cheng faded into a figment of Xie Lian’s past, who was still horrifically uncertain of his future. This feeling only worsened as, the prince’s initial unspoken wish fulfilled, those vivid fronds eventually dimmed into hues of soft oranges and browns.
Spring had passed. Summer had gone. It was Fall now. A year prior, Xie Lian had been on an ox cart riding back to Puqi Shrine after a day of scrap collecting when his life changed forever.
More days than not that Fall, curled into a corner of the cottage he’d built near the peak of Mount Taicang, Xie Lian would sob until his throat ached , too anguished to care if anyone could hear his screams. Ruoye would attempt to be there for him, but everytime it reminded its master of its existence, it only served as a painful reminder of a time when Xie Lian was quite in a state as he found himself now, only the last time had been eight hundred years earlier and he had been mourning the loss of his parents instead.
Winter came as a reprieve to his nostalgia. With it brought work to be done. The Crown Prince would labor outdoors, too busy to think, to ensure his garden would survive the freeze while making sure that his cottage would keep the snow out. Their cottage. The winter also brought cold, something Xie Lian had never properly appreciated until it reminded him of Hua Cheng but, then again, nowadays, most everything reminded him of Hua Cheng.
One of those snowy days, Xie Lian had tripped over a tree root hidden in the sludge and stumbled to the ground. For the rest of the morning, he laid in the frost, content to be buried for the rest of his existence unless it was a pair of red-clad arms digging him out. He didn’t notice he was crying even as his tears froze to and stung his cheeks. He didn’t notice anything at all, until the Sun rose high enough in the sky that it shone upon him, and a translucent ring resting on his chest glimmered in the sunlight caught his attention. Ashamed, the Crown Prince ran all the way home and stoked a fire, though he didn’t technically need it, curling up beside the embers while clutching that ring to his chest and apologizing feverishly until he inevitably collapsed, shadows from the flames dancing across the red tie around his finger.
Xie Lian took better care of himself from then on.
He’d cook at least one meal everyday, even when he felt he couldn’t bring himself to. Even when he had to force the food down his throat, he reasoned with himself that he was becoming a better cook for his San Lang. He also began helping out in the Heavenly Realm again, overseeing court and helping to sort out territorial disagreements.
It felt a little silly.
He couldn’t command respect, not like Hua Cheng, and he didn’t find himself deserving of it though the Heavenly Officials readily gave it. Fear had to be the reason why, Xie Lian realized, which only troubled him further. He didn’t want people to be afraid of him. He didn’t want to walk in Jun Wu’s footsteps. He tried to keep to sorting out insignificant civil duties starting then.
Though it took time, he even returned to Ghost City, to see how the realm was handling the absence of their Chengzu. He couldn’t bring himself to step foot into Paradise Manor, not without Hua Cheng, but he was happy to hear that the city was still functioning, still safe, under the temporary watch of the Waning Moon Officer.
With what had been left of Yin Yu, he’d managed to form himself into quite the powerful Wrath. It was impressive, how quickly he moved up in rank, and Xie Lian had been happy for him, interested to note that he seemed more cheerful in his deceased state, much to a certain Heavenly Official’s dismay.
The Crown Prince had left them to it, certain in Yin Yu’s standing and abilities, but still had encouraged him to seek his help should the need ever arise. The Waning Moon Officer had bid him goodbye with a deep bow.
It hurt too deeply to walk those streets knowing they were paved by the hand of his beloved.
Winter soon faded and spring approached once more, well-earned pink buds on his trees beginning to sprout. Their trees?
Xie Lian, over the many long months, was beginning to doubt.
He trusted Hua Cheng with every fiber of his being, every ounce of himself mutually devoted to his last believer, but what if something had happened? What if he couldn’t get to him? What if he was waiting for Xie Lian to come rescue him from someplace terrible he couldn’t escape? What if he was truly gone?
Xie Lian thought he might go crazy with grief.
“San Lang,” he’d whispered one day, watching the sunset with his beloved’s ring pressed against his lips, imagining him here beside him, the rays playing over his lazy features. “Will it always feel this empty?”
For so long, eight centuries of his life, Xie Lian had wandered the world with a vacant soul, trying to make his meaningless days pass as painlessly as possible. Then Hua Cheng entered his life—or, re-entered—and he filled that gaping hole in Xie Lian, the missing piece of his soul that made him complete, that made his life worth living.
And then it was ripped away from him again. Except, this time, it was even more painful because now he knew exactly what it was he had that he now lacked. He’d memorized the outline of it. Had it in his grasp, in his arms. Tasted it and held it and yet, it had still slipped away.
Xie Lian had still lost him.
That was the most difficult part. Dealing with the guilt. Had Xie Lian caused this? Did Xie Lian deserve this? A familiar voice chanted in his head, Yes, Xian Le. You did this. He’s gone by your hand. How does it feel? The memory of that voice rang clearer in his head than the memory of Hua Cheng’s now.
That evening, the Crown Prince’s tears mixed with his congee.
More weeks passed. The blossoms were in full bloom now, even more breathtaking than the year before and Xie Lian actually did smile upon seeing them. He thought of how lovely Hua Cheng would look, standing beneath them in his billowing robes, dusty pink petals decorating his wild mane, the flora’s beauty nothing compared to that of his bright smile and single twinkling eye.
Surely it’s impossible to miss a person this much. To long so desperately for someone.
It had been an entire year.
Xie Lian’s heart ached as he descended the mountain with his ox and cart in tow that day, explaining to RuoYe—as he always did nowadays, for he had no one else to talk to—how he planned to dig up some wild azalea’s he spotted at the foot of Mount Taicang and replant them along the path he’d been in the process of excavating.
He really had become good at gardening and while he knew his culinary talents hadn’t developed much, perhaps enough to not render anyone unconscious anymore, he was still proud of the progress and even more proud of the fact that Hua Cheng would be happy with him for thinking so.
In his many centuries wandering the world, Xie Lian had witnessed the upbringing and eventually discarding of many different mortal calendars, but none of them helped to ease the pain of passing time. The Crown Prince didn’t pay attention to the days anymore but he couldn’t ignore how nature reminded him of them.
Hours after he began his slow process of digging up the flora, careful not to rip their roots and his cart now nicely decorated with blooms, he declared himself finished. His hands caked with dirt and his skin shiny with a light sheen of sweat, Xie Lian patted the ox and the two began making their way back up to his cottage.
Their cottage. It had been an entire year since their final moments together but no amount of time could change the Crown Prince’s love for his San Lang. His Hua Cheng. His Wu Ming. His Hong’er.
His.
If Xie Lian had to wait til the end of time, had to experience the start and end of worlds, he would. And if Xie Lian never saw him again, he would live his life forever indebted to the precious time they’d spent together, and still live happily with the memories they’d shared.
It was enough. It had to be.
Hua Cheng wasn’t coming back. Xie Lian knew this.
It took him a year to accept this, but he knew it. He knew it with every fiber of his being, every ounce of himself. All he had left of his most devoted believer was the ring around his neck and the red string around his finger. Xie Lian couldn’t tell if it hurt less or more after embracing this truth. He’d been in pain this entire time, after all. He’d try to pretend it helped. He would try to pretend that the reminders of his beloved all around didn’t make him want to claw his chest out in agony.
The red of the azaleas, the rare wild butterfly Xie Lian tried so hard not to notice even as it fluttered around him, the very ox cart he walked beside now, the lantern rising in the sky ahead of him.
Wait.
Xie Lian stilled where he stood, frozen in place as his gaze tracked that one solitary lantern which rose higher and higher into the darkening Heavens above him before more and more and more of its kind rose to join it. Innumerable fractions of light, blending together in the ether just out of his reach. It was just like…
He couldn’t help it. His heart started to pound in his chest.
Beginning his trek again, forcing himself to keep the same pace from before. He demanded his mind to reason as he continued to follow alongside his ox.
Their ox?
No. He wouldn’t allow himself to hope. Hope is what would kill him.
Rationally thinking, it was most likely a group of cultivators. One who snuck past the array he’d set in hopes of seeking the afamed Huangji Temple, perhaps. Or perhaps Feng Xin or Mu Qing here to pay a visit, unintentionally playing a twisted joke on Xie Lian in the process. Or maybe intentionally, finally working together for the first time in their lives, only with the goal of exacting a cruel revenge on their former master.
All of those occurrences were more reasonable than this. Anything would make sense except…
“San… Lang?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but the figure standing just a few paces away turned to him regardless as he finished lifting what seemed to be the last of his lanterns into the air. The last of three-thousand, no doubt. Xie Lian could barely make out his expression through the blur obscuring his vision as tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. But he would never mistake that voice for anyone.
“Xie Lian.”
In just a fraction of a moment, after a year of nothing but emptiness and sorrow, Xie Lian’s soul was made whole again. And he had been right.
Hua Cheng really did look lovely beneath the flower trees.