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Xie Lian hugs his knees to his chest, staring over the landscape. All these people, he thinks. I almost cursed them. I almost tortured innocent people, just because I was hurting.
Footsteps pad behind him, Wu Ming obviously trying to broadcast his approach on the soft grass. He doesn’t look up, even when his loyal ghost kneels next to him.
“Thank you,” he whispers eventually. He’d thought Wu Ming had died, dispersed by the vengeful spirits. The grief that had struck him, knowing that the ghost he’d mistreated so badly was his last believer…
But no. He’s here. Xie Lian glances to his side - Wu Ming kneels quietly, dark hair blowing gently in the wind, chest unbreathing but solid.
Xie Lian has a second chance, now.
“I couldn’t let you offer yourself as a pincushion,” Wu Ming says, an undercurrent of pain in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” Xie Lian says. It isn’t enough for what Wu Ming went through because of him. Still, it’s all he has.
“I would do it again,” Wu Ming says, as if it’s nothing.
For a long moment, they sit together, gazing into the distance.
Then Xie Lian’s voice breaks the silence: “Wu Ming, why do you wear that mask?”
Wu Ming turns away, and when he speaks, his voice is full of self-hatred.
“No one should have to see my face.”
“Why?” Xie Lian asks gently. He rests a hand on Wu Ming’s shoulder, and the ghost gives a tiny jerk of surprise, but doesn’t move away. “It’s just me here. I don’t mind.”
“It’s ugly,” Wu Ming whispers.
Xie Lian moves to sit in front of him, cupping his face to turn it forward. Wu Ming is cold under his fingers, but spiritual energy thrums through him.
“It doesn’t matter,” Xie Lian says firmly. “It won’t change how I feel about you.”
Haltingly, Wu Ming asks, “How… do you feel about me?”
“I think,” Xie Lian says, “that your beloved was very lucky to have someone like you.”
He gazes intently at Wu Ming’s mask, imagining he can see through to his eyes.
“I don’t envy their fate,” he says. “But I envy how important they are to you. To have someone love me so much they’d stay, even after death -”
His voice breaks, and he drops his hands, embarrassed.
But Wu Ming reaches out in turn.
Cold hands settle on Xie Lian’s face, guiding him to look back at his wonderful, loyal ghost.
“They’re you,” Wu Ming whispers.
Time feels like it freezes.
“My beloved,” Wu Ming says. “It’s you.”
A fate worse than death.
Wu Ming following him, steadfast through his worst.
Wu Ming raising the sword, taking on the curse that was rightfully Xie Lian’s.
I would do it again.
“Wu Ming,” Xie Lian gasps. Puzzle pieces fall into place.
At their center, a space for one more piece:
I love him back.
“Wu Ming,” he gasps again, and tackles him, arms wrapping around his waist. Wu Ming gives a bright, incredulous laugh, allowing himself to fall backwards, and Xie Lian finds himself staring at a smiling mask, nose almost brushing against it.
With trembling fingers, he reaches up.
Slowly, he pushes at the edge of the mask. Bit by bit, Wu Ming allows his face to be revealed, his eyes squeezed shut.
For a moment, Xie Lian wonders why he was worried. He’s stunningly handsome, with sharp, wild features. Xie Lian is breathless just looking at him.
And then he blinks his eyes open, and two beautiful eyes greet him: one deep black, one blood-red.
“Wu Ming,” Xie Lian whispers.
In the back of his mind, a memory nudges at him. Someone else who covered their eye, thinking it was ugly.
But he ignores it. Wu Ming’s expression is fearful, as if he’s scared Xie Lian will reject him. His lips part, as if to ask something -
And Xie Lian closes his eyes and crosses the space between them, answering him with a kiss.
For a moment, Wu Ming is still. Xie Lian worries that he’s overstepped, that he’s understood wrong, that he’s pushed too far -
And then Wu Ming’s mouth breaks into a smile under his, and strong arms tighten around his shoulders.
“Dianxia,” Wu Ming whispers into his mouth, pressing kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his nose. “You’ll be the death of me.”
“No more of that,” Xie Lian chides him, his own smile spreading across his face.
He has a second chance. A new life stretching out in front of him, bound to earth but no less bright for it - not with his ghost at his side.
He captures Wu Ming’s lips in a chaste kiss - a long, inexpert press of mouths - and then Wu Ming’s lips move, and Xie Lian gasps, his heart fluttering.
At the taste of the smile underneath the mask, color returns to his world.