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Chapter Text

Xie Lian was “lucky”.

He was lucky because he was born into a good family with wealthy parents who allowed him the freedom do as he pleased.

He was lucky because he was destined for greatness and glory with his handsome face and quick talent.

He was lucky because he had been a god— twice actually.

He was lucky because after many trials, like a hero in a story, he had stumbled into a Crown Prince and saved his life.

He was lucky because that Crown Prince’s parents had been so grateful that they had offered him such a grand position in spite of knowing nothing about him. In spite of him being just a street performer.

He was “lucky”, and so it didn’t do to dwell on the many ways he had been unlucky for years. It was his own choice anyways. He’d given it up and this was the punishment he’d asked for. No reason to complain. There was no one to complain to anyways, he couldn’t talk about himself here.

It smelled like blood and death if you paid attention.

“He’s so stern, I heard he refused any servants in his room, even for a wake up call,” a servant gossiped.

“Not rude at least. Although he must be pretty ugly, don’t you think? With his face covered like that all the time?”

Xie Lian walked a different way to his rooms. It would embarrass them if he walked by and they realized he’d heard.

The palace that stood here now was not the one he’d grown up in. That one had been ravaged by battle and then any part that might have been retained was lost when the Yong’an Palace burned.

Even if it had been, he’d never spent much time in the Palace had he? If he wanted nostalgia he’d need to visit Taicang Mountain.

He’d been meaning to, actually, when he ran into Lang Qianqiu that first time…

Well he couldn’t very well leave a twelve year old kid to deal with kidnappers. True the guards had already been on their tail but it was clear the skill between the groups was too close and too much in danger of hurting him. It didn’t cost Xie Lian much to break up the fight.

And to be offered such a position as Guoshi wasn’t a cost. It was a gift. He should be grateful to be looked on with honor and teach the Crown Prince— truly a bright boy with a bright future.

But Xie Lian was a bit tired.

He’d spent, what, nearly five centuries now wandering? It was strange to be back in a place with a proper bed and warm meals every day. A place that gave him responsibilities again. People always said when you were old you ought to settle down but the older Xie Lian got the more comfortable he grew with wandering.

How long should he stay here? Lang Qianqiu was only thirteen now, and looked up to him quite a bit. Xie Lian thought it was best to at least see him onto the throne. Then perhaps he could retire? Go back to street performing and wandering?

Finally having made his way to the outside wall of his chambers, Xie Lian leapt, black robes billowing as he perched on the small ledge and slid in through the window.

Alone, Xie Lian slid off his mask and began to undo his outer layers for sleep. Only to be stopped by the sight of a butterfly that seemed to carry its own shimmering light.

It was so dark, so endlessly dark. He couldn’t see anything, he hadn’t seen light in so long.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” Xie Lian said idly.

The butterfly seemed to flicker, as if on the verge of vanishing until Xie Lian held out a finger for it to perch on and watched it solidify.

It was quite beautiful.

“Were you just looking for a place to rest for a while? You can stay here if you’d like, I think the bed is big enough for both of us.”

Xie Lian had grown the habit of talking nonsense to animals and inanimate objects when he was alone; a natural consequence of solitude. However, this was not useless chatter. This was a real invitation, one he knew would have consequences because this was not just a little butterfly who’d come in by accident.

He had meant it when he said it wasn’t supposed to be here. But he didn’t mind the company. Even if it wished him ill, he could take it. He’d taken everything else after all. Perhaps it would finally be enough to give him that last push.

Either way. He couldn’t be bothered to worry. It was just nice to have someone around again.

“Right here, look, you can use my old robes.” He bundled them next to his pillow.

The butterfly crawled where he directed it as he settled into bed beside the little ‘nest’, watching the slow open-close of its wings.

“You know, I used to talk to Ruoye when I was alone in my room. It can’t respond back either. I think you two would get along.”

The butterfly of course didn’t respond, but Xie Lian could tell it was listening.

“Will you be here in the ‘morning’? I hope you are. You’re quite pretty and you seem very well behaved. Perhaps I could wear you like a pin and you could follow me around. No one will question me on it. Maybe his highness but he’s quite easy to refuse an answer.”

Useless nonsense. He was just saying things.

He really was so tired. But sleep wouldn’t help his weariness so perhaps talking might.

“Can I admit something to you?”

The butterfly did not respond.

“I don’t want to wake up again.”

All the same, there was only so long Xie Lian could exist like this. His body would heal just enough to wake him soon. He was starting to feel it.

He meant to say goodbye, he really did, but he could never time these things right before he was ripped out of his dream world by the cruel reality of the dowel through his chest.

He woke screaming every time, vocal cords straining as he tried to fight against the containment of the coffin and the hole ran through him. His mask was still on, a suffocating cover in an already suffocating space.

It hurt so much.

He wished it would just kill him already.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian watched Lang Qianqiu run laps. At sixteen he still would rather train than study. Xie Lian supposed he couldn’t blame the child. He doubted he’d been much better at that age. And it wasn’t as if either of them skipped out on lessons, they merely had different priorities. It was easier to conceive of how training your physical strength could be used to help others.

There was an air of justice to the young man. He was still gawky with youth, but he was coming into himself now and Xie Lian could see the dignity of his status fitting him better by the day.

Still, he had a sort of innocence to him. That desire to make the world better and brighter without the weight of failures to stifle his path.

Xie Lian wondered if this was how his own Guoshi had felt watching him. Perhaps even how his parents had felt? There was a feeling that couldn’t quite fit into words witnessing your own traits in the next generation. Something nostalgic and proud and melancholy all at once.

He hoped that Lang Qianqiu made it where he had failed. That he remained full of that simple desire to fill the world with goodness and straightforwardly rose to godhood untethered by the mistakes that had hindered Xie Lian.

Seeing Lang Qianqiu now, only a year younger than Xie Lian had been when he ascended, he understood he really had been entirely too young. No one so young should’ve been called upon as a god. Even the smartest of children were still too new to the world for that heavy of a burden. Hopefully Lang Qianqiu would be a bit older when he ascended. Wiser, but still full of that brightness.

It was difficult to help such a mirror to his past grow, but wasn’t this the duty of the old? To mentor and guide so that the next generation could succeed where they had failed?

Lang Qianqiu paused his running, panting with exertion.

He couldn’t breath, there was no air here that wasn’t sour with decay in this little box. It killed him as often as the hole in his chest.

“Go rest, you’ve trained enough for the day,” Xie Lian called out. He could work for much longer without tiring now. His determination was quite impressive.

“Just a few more laps!”

“Moderation is necessary in all things, including training. You only have one body, you mustn’t overwork it,” Xie Lian scolded, voice cold and commanding.

And Lang Qianqiu obeyed, because he was a good child when it came down to it.

So Xie Lian was left to wander back to his rooms, job done for the time being.

He didn’t want to play at sleep today. Perhaps he could stare at the moon. At the stars.

Fuck, he just wanted to breathe the clear night air again.

Only…there was someone on his balcony.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” Xie Lian nodded as he looked out at the sky.

In his peripheral, the figure flickered, just as the butterfly from before had.

“I’ll let you stay if you keep me company though.”

And just as it had worked when he gave the butterfly his permission, Xie Lian’s mind accepted his intruder at his words.

“I would be honored to keep the Guoshi Fangxin company. Pray my lord doesn’t find me lacking,” the intruder replied by way of greeting. What a funny way this man had of talking. So formal and respectful after breaking into Xie Lian’s mind.

“Are you of Yong’an?”

“No, my lord. I’m just a visitor.”

“We do not allow many visitors here. What business do you have in my chambers?”

“I was searching for something,” the intruder answered, seeming honest and without hesitation.

“Did you find it?” Xie Lian spared him a glance. He was formed to look like any of the palace servants but there was an air to him that set him apart, distinctly an outsider in Xie Lian’s recreation.

“Yes.” There was something about his eyes. Intense wouldn’t be the right word, but there were emotions there Xie Lian couldn’t begin to understand. Truthfully he was much too tired to properly try. “But only to a certain extent.”

Xie Lian waited for him to elaborate, only to find the intruder finished.

“If there’s more you want to look for here you’ll have to hurry. It won’t last much longer now and I can’t guarantee the next one will look the same.”

Surprisingly, the intruder simply stepped up to stand beside him. “My lord wished for company.”

Xie Lian smiled behind his mask, looking back up at the moon. “Do you do much moon watching?”

“A bit. When I’m thinking.”

Xie Lian nodded. “It’s quite good for that.”

“Is there something my lord is thinking on?”

“The royal family.” His reply was not untrue, although it was deliberately vague too. In the palace of Yong’an as the Guoshi who looked after the crown prince, naturally one would assume when he said ‘the royal family’ he meant the one in charge of Yong’an during his service. And while he was thinking of them, he was also thinking of another royal family, specifically his own.

“I’ve heard some also use moon watching to exchange poetry,” the intruder spoke up after it became clear Xie Lian did not intend to elaborate. “Shall I recite one for my lord?”

Xie Lian gave a gesture of approval, admiring the false glow of the full moon as the rich tones of the intruder began to wash over him with the recitation.

“At the foot of my bed, moonlight
Yes, I suppose there is frost on the ground.
Lifting my head I gaze at the bright moon
Bowing my head, thinking of home.”

“Quiet Night Thought,” Xie Lian smiled as he recognized it.

“It seemed fitting.”

“You recite it well.” He wondered if the intruder knew just how fitting it was. A poem about duty and filial longing. Recited in the imagined moonlight as Xie Lian reminisced on a home he could not return to.

They must have made a lovely picture.

“Thank you, my lord.” The intruder was faced towards the moon, but there was the impression he was watching Xie Lian instead.

“Are you a scholar?” A silly question to ask someone who’d broken into his already broken mind, but Xie Lian thought there was something nice about being able to ask silly questions. He hadn’t felt there were many opportunities as a Guoshi.

“I dabble in it.”

“Is that why you’ve come? Hoping to learn from the crown prince’s teacher?” A silly assumption too. A frivolous one.

But his intruder played along. “I would never presume I was granted such a privilege.”

“I suppose it would be odd to seek scholarly wisdom by sneaking into my room at night.”

If this had truly been Yong’an, perhaps Xie Lian would’ve watched how he talked to keep up his reputation. As it was, there really was no use. He could’ve taken his mask off even. Likely the intruder had seen his face last time they were here, assuming they truly were that same butterfly.

He liked it like this though. Imagining his time before a bit different. Besides, if he gave up the premise completely he was more likely to wake up. He’d found that happened when he thought too much about things.

“If you ever do want a lesson, feel free to join us during the day.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Think of it as repayment for your good company.”

“I thought my good company was repayment for sneaking in?” The intruder quipped. Truly a curious fellow.

“It would do his highness well to work with someone who valued his studies. Perhaps it would give him insight into their importance. Or at the very least the spirit of competition.”

The intruder did not point out that the prince couldn’t really benefit from the influence when he wasn’t really here. Xie Lian appreciated that. It seemed he really had found kind company. Could it be he’d imagined him too? He’d been here so long, he was fairly sure this creature was an outsider but given the hazy edges of his thoughts it was hard to ever be certain.

And before Xie Lian could question him he was woken to the searing pain of his wound and lungs healing just enough to pull him into a torturous consciousness.

It wouldn’t last long, he knew, it never did when every part of him was fit for rotting, but that didn’t make the pain stop. He was used to pain. He was used to pain so he would harden his mind and try not to be drawn to acknowledge the way his body prickled with overworked nerves.

When you were in a certain amount of pain your body was supposed to block it out. Was supposed to keep you from really feeling it.

But Xie Lian’s body was tired as it repeatedly failed it’s attempts to heal him beyond what any mortal could endure.

It was so much darker without the moon and stars. Maybe it didn’t matter though. Maybe the pain would’ve made his vision black out anyways.

Chapter Text

Lang Qianqiu, only thirteen again, hunched over his work, straightening with a quick tap of Xie Lian’s foot against his tailbone.

The child had a healthy nervousness to Xie Lian’s authority, but in the end he was a child ruled by curiosity and strong ideals, so while he couldn’t be said to be disrespectful, he was a bit too prone to opening his mouth.

Then again, Xie Lian had been too at his age.

“Must we focus on calligraphy practice, Guoshi? I’ve almost gotten a handle on the new sword forms you showed me.”

“And you will still almost have a handle on them when you finish your calligraphy,” Xie Lian rejected him smoothly, cold and unyielding as the Guoshi Fangxin was known to be.

But if he had not been disguised by his mask, Lang Qianqiu would’ve witnessed the way he faltered. Because just over by the door stood a ‘servant’, patient and quiet as they waited through the prince’s lesson in case some need came up for them to be called upon.

Or at least, that’s why a servant would ordinarily be present.

But this was not really a servant.

“Come to join the lesson?” Xie Lian asked the intruder.

“I wouldn’t dare intrude on his highness’s practice,” the intruder bowed.

Lang Qianqiu looked between them in confusion. “Who’s this?”

“Five more sheets,” Xie Lian scolded, calmly adding to the practice his charge had to finish for interrupting.”

Letting out a noise of dismay, the boy put his head back down to work.

“Come,” Xie Lian gestured to a free spot, watching as the intruder obediently sat down. “Practice with him. If you can complete the sheets to my standards first, his highness’s work will double.”

“Guoshi!” Lang Qianqiu started to complain, only to catch himself and get back to work.

The intruder however, heistated.

“This will be an easy victory for him if you refuse to start.”

The intruder frowned. “I’m afraid I’ll disappoint.”

“To do nothing is surely the clearest failure.”

Sighing, he picked up a brush and began.

Hm. Perhaps this was worse than never starting. What sort of creature had such demonic writing?

Lang Qianqiu peeked up, clearly trying to see how his competition was doing only to be struck dumb. “What language is that?”

“Eyes on your own paper,” Xie Lian demanded, trying to figure out what exactly he should say about such an attempt.

Finishing his first practice sheet, the intruder moved on to his second.

In the end, Lang Qianqiu won the competition, looking up at Xie Lian eagerly, clearly hoping for more sword practice now.

“Run laps until I fetch you. We’ll see if there’s time after warmups.”

Lang Qianqiu clearly was disappointed but didn’t complain, heading off.

The intruder was still dutifully ruining practice sheets with the worst calligraphy Xie Lian had ever witnessed.

“Who taught you to write like this?”

“No one taught me, my lord. I’ve never had a formal teacher.”

Ah. That did explain a bit.

“Here, you’re holding the brush wrong.” Xie Lian demonstrated.

With Lang Qianqiu gone and Xie Lian left only with the intruder, he felt some of his formality ease.

He shouldn’t have perhaps. Unlike the crown prince in Xie Lian’s mind, the intruder was probably real and could form conclusions or find openings with this gentleness. But he was so terribly tired of being the Guoshi Fangxin and of the strength the coffin demanded of him. Who cared if the intruder was something wicked? What could they possibly do to Xie Lian that had not already been done to him?

Perhaps he could have been softer with the crown prince in his mind too, but it was hard to see even a figment of that boy so like him and not slip into the unshakable guiding authority he’d acted as for the last five years. A blip of time in the scheme of things, but an important blip. He wished it had ended better.

But, with the intruder here he was not tempted to dwell on what could have been. Not when he had the mystery of this repeat guest to consider.

“Here, like this,” he moved to put his hand over the intruder’s to guide it. He’d done it with Lang Qianqiu before, but it was perhaps a bit presumptuous with an adult who was not actually his charge.

Still, the intruder didn’t argue, merely let Xie Lian guide his hand and straighten up that truly atrocious writing.

“Shall I call my lord Shizun?” The intruder asked, almost cheeky.

“Perhaps when you write a bit better. No student of mine would write something like this.”

It was part cool affectation, part tease, but the intruder seemed to pick up on the joke, sighing with terrible melodrama.

“In order to have you as a teacher I must improve my calligraphy, but in order to improve my calligraphy I must have you as a teacher. What a hopeless puzzle my lord has given me.”

“I can teach you a bit. You just can’t tell anyone,” Xie Lian quipped.

It felt… nice. It had been awhile since he’d just cracked jokes with someone. The intruder seemed perfectly happy to go along with the teasing.

“So I’m to be my lord’s scandalous secret? It’s a shame his highness caught us earlier then, we were almost exposed.”

Xie Lian snorted. “He won’t tell anyone. Besides, he’ll forget by tomorrow.”

After all, tomorrow had no guarantee of being linear. The timeline Xie Lian’s mind had him drifting through was all out of order and he doubted the intruder’s influence would stick with anyone but Xie Lian anyways.

“Should I allow my lord to go tend to him?”

Xie Lian settled in by the intruder. “He has laps to run. I might as well give you the first lesson.”

The intruder’s smile was incredibly fond as he nodded, settling in to listen to Xie Lian’s lecture. He was a very good student.

Lang Qianqiu hadn’t been a poor student, he was a very bright and earnest boy after all, but he was a bit headstrong, rushing into things and favoring his sword lessons more than his calligraphy or poetry lessons. He’d always listened when Xie Lian spoke though, a sponge absorbing ideals of justice and protecting those weaker than you so enthusiastically.

He was a good child.

This intruder was a good child in a different way. Xie Lian felt very listened to, very heard, even as he explained quite boring things about calligraphy. It seemed the intruder was quite serious about improving himself. That was good.

It felt like it had been quite awhile since he’d spoken so much.

His throat burned.

But it was nice to be heard without thinking so hard of the consequences on a young, impressionable mind.

He was choking again, it was too much!

Ah. He didn’t have much longer left in this day. Stopping mid lecture, Xie Lian met the intruder’s eye. “I’m sorry, I—“

His body was regurgitating nothing but his own stomach acid, too empty after how long he had been in here. But flat on his back he had no choice but to choke and gag around it, the sour burn on his throat competing with the fatal wound that still could not be healed. At least he couldn’t taste it anymore.

He hoped the intruder killed him soon.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian was stargazing again when the intruder came next.

He’d never stargazed much when he was younger. Hadn’t done it much in his first banishment either, but with so much time by himself to simply take in the views and find the joy in little things like that, Xie Lian found he was quite fond of it now. Living in the Yong’an palace with a roof over his head was warm—

His body was so cold, everything was so cold.

—and safe, always going to bed with a full stomach.

He was so hungry, he was starving, he’d eat anything.

But while there were many perks to a good position, he couldn’t very well spend as much time wandering and idling around as he’d gotten used to. He’d liked to use the nights to do that a bit. It wasn’t the same looking up at the stars from the comfort of his chambers instead of vast wide open stretches of road.

It wasn’t bad, he wasn’t complaining about having creature comforts again, it was just different.

“Are you here for another lesson?” Xie Lian didn’t take his gaze from the sky.

“Just to keep my lord company,” the intruder stepped up beside him. “I know it’s been awhile since our last meeting after all.”

Xie Lian paused, looking over at him in confusion that would’ve been quite open if it weren’t for the mask that covered his expression. “It’s only been a day.”

The intruder tilted his head, as if considering this. “For my lord it’s been a day outside here too?”

Xie Lian scratched his head. It was hard to tell how much time elapsed between deaths and he had no way of knowing if dying sent him straight into his space or if there was some waiting period. He wasn’t even sure the passage of time here was equivalent to the outside world. “I suppose I don’t really know. How long has it been for you?”

“Two months,” the intruder answered, seeming cautious with his words. “My lord does go somewhere else when we get cut off, doesn’t he?”

“I do. I suppose I’m not very good at telling time though.”

The intruder still seemed to be trying to work out some sort of puzzle, but nodded, not pressing anymore.

“I still haven’t gotten your name.”

“My lord never asked,” the intruder pointed out slyly. “I assumed you recognized me.”

“Recognized you?” Xie Lian looked over at him, trying to jog his memory. He wasn’t from Yong’an, was he from Xianle? Such an old ghost?

“My butterflies are fairly well known after all.”

“Ah. No, I'm afraid I haven’t heard of you before. Are you someone very impressive then?”

“I’d be honored if my lord thought so. Perhaps then I could finally call him Shizun,” he teased.

“You can call me what you like in private, you just can’t tell others I’m teaching you. That would surely be the most wicked thing the Guoshi Fangxin had accomplished.”

“So cruel!” He laughed.

“A good teacher should know how to motivate their students. I have a feeling this is a good reward system for you.” Which was utter nonsense of course, but he liked laughing with this intruder.

“And I can really call you whatever I want?”

“I’m sure you can’t think of something I haven’t been called before.”

“Gege?”

Xie Lian snorted. He had been called that before. Albeit, not by a full grown man he didn’t even know the name of. “Alright. Shall I call you didi then?”

The intruder smiled. “San Lang. I have a more famous name, but if gege won’t know it anyways I’d prefer that.”

“San Lang,” he tested the name on his tongue, counting stars.

He had begun to suspect before, but he was even more certain now. San Lang didn’t intend to harm him. At most he might have been feeding off of Xie Lian’s dreams a bit, but he was a harmless creature.

Perhaps hearing he was well known should’ve made this fact less convincing, but it really only made Xie Lian believe it more. All San Lang did was come by and keep him company. It seemed the first few times he was capable of being banished simply by Xie Lian asserting he wasn’t naturally part of this land and given how weak Xie Lian must have been, he was fairly confident that was because San Lang had been listening to him, not because he could push him out.

Xie Lian had caught the sights of creatures who slowly leached at you before. The kinds that acted sweet. They had an energy to them that San Lang lacked.

He still didn’t know why San Lang was here of course, but he saw no reason to question a good thing.

“Gege must really like the night sky.”

“Perhaps I just like to entice poetry reading from strangers.”

San Lang laughed. “Does gege want another then?”

“En. What does San Lang feel is fitting for today?”

Pausing, San Lang thought before he began.

“Fond are my feelings yet unfeeling I feign;
Before the wine-flask we merry-make in vain.
The heartful candle, our parting, it grieves,
And in tears it melts till it’s morning again.”

“Parting Two. San Lang recites it so well, but I’m afraid it wasn’t fitting.”

“Oh?”

“We aren’t drinking.” Xie Lian really was just giving him a hard time. It was a sweet poem to pick. A bit odd since it did have romantic connotations but clearly San Lang had wanted to express his own appreciation for their growing companionship and his disappointment in how long he apparently had to wait between meetings.

“We could fix that,” San Lang’s grin was a bit roguish. A bit sly.

“I’m not really supposed to drink with my cultivation.” Which was a bit odd to say considering he still did in moderation and also it wouldn’t count anyways. But it was better than explaining he didn’t like drinking or eating here. It reminded him too much of what he couldn’t have.

“Gege and I will have to just drink up the view then.”

Xie Lian laughed, settling into comfortable silence as they stared up at the sky together. Perhaps they stood there together for hours, perhaps the whole night, but San Lang never tried to move them or get anything out of Xie Lian. Just let them stand side by side, a quiet companionship broken up occasionally by San Lang sharing facts about the stars or Xie Lian telling regional folk stories he knew about different constellations.

It was nice.

It was almost like real rest.

And when he was pulled out of it, already screaming, going lightheaded again, he didn’t bother fighting against the pain, instead he purposely aggravated his wounds and shallowed his breath to pull him under faster.

To bring him back to San Lang.

Chapter Text

Lang Qianqiu, currently fifteen years old and finally hitting his growth spurt, went through his sword positions under Xie Lian’s watchful gaze.

He was good.

Still… there was something to the movements of someone who had only known drills and choreographed sparring. A sort of formality in his movements or maybe a casualness. It was hard to properly describe.

Lang Qianqiu had never raised his hand to defend his life.

He’d never killed.

He thought he had. Maybe he had. Who was to say whether or not Xie Lian counted after all?

Xie Lian hoped it would be a long time until Lang Qianqiu learned those things though. Perhaps if it was just ghosts or demons it would be alright? He could go traveling to help people, like Xie Lian had at seventeen. Yes, by seventeen he’d be better with his sword.

Besides, he was too much like Xie Lian, there was little doubt he’d only get more outspoken and eager to help as he grew. Xie Lian should start considering who should go with him. It couldn’t be the child’s Guoshi, this was his own mission. Someone his own age would be nice. Someone he could call a friend.

Someone he could bring to heaven when he undoubtedly ascended. Someone who wouldn’t leave him if he ever fell.

Xie Lian was broken from his thoughts by a familiar presence. Without looking over, he gestured San Lang over.

Shamelessly, the man stepped up to stand beside him, earning a curious glance from Lang Qianqiu.

“Focus on your form,” Xie Lian reminded coolly before turning his gaze to San Lang. “You’re back.”

San Lang smiled. “Did gege doubt me?”

Lang Qianqiu faltered, earning back Xie Lian’s full attention.

“Ten laps since it seems you lack enough conditioning to do more complex drills.”

Making a noise of distress, Lang Qianqiu still went off without arguing.

“Gege’s quite the strict teacher. Perhaps it’s lucky I can’t call him Shizun.”

“Is San Lang’s swordplay more like his intelligence or his calligraphy?”

“Shall I demonstrate?”

Xie Lian gestured for him to proceed, watching as San Lang fell into the drills Lang Qianqiu had been doing. Fluid and easy.

“Is San Lang self taught in fighting too?”

“It shows?” He asked as he lowered the blade, twirling it lazily like a soldier showing off for a pretty girl.

Xie Lian shook his head. “You’re very good. If you did have a teacher they’d be honored.”

San Lang stopped the twirling to step a bit closer. “Gege could still be my teacher. Surely there’s more I can learn.”

“Didn’t San Lang say he’s famous? What’s an old Guoshi going to teach you?”

“Gege’s still young.”

“San Lang, I promise I’m much older than I look.”

“Which only makes you wise.”

“You’re changing your argument now,” he laughed.

“I’m taking my elder’s advice into consideration to steer my argument into more sound waters,” San Lang told him like it was quite serious.

Xie Lian’s retort was paused by the return of his charge.

Giving San Lang a strange look, Lang Qianqiu went back to his drills.

San Lang didn’t try to steal his attention back, seemingly content to stand by Xie Lian’s side and watch over his instruction.

Xie Lian had wandered through ‘this version’ of Yong’an for some time before San Lang had arrived. The days didn’t go in any particular order. The scenes were simple and seemingly unrelated. And every single one of them filled Xie Lian with exhaustion beyond which he had words for.

This was a place of contemplation. A place that made it very difficult to find the upside when the things he did here truly did not matter. He couldn’t find people to help. Even the beauty of nature was a thing that invoked a quiet yearning for the real thing.

It was difficult to be as positive as Xie Lian was with as much hardship as he faced. To strive for optimism no matter the circumstances was a choice he had decided for himself, one that took discipline. And truthfully, he was not necessarily positive so much as he was not negative.

He still wasn’t being negative. He was keeping his head. Here at least, he was keeping it.

There came a point in his real body where thoughts couldn’t be formed beyond please beyond help beyond kill me.

Physical pain was fine, he could handle that. He’d been caught in death cycles before. This wasn’t the first or second or even third time he’d wondered if he’d pass the rest of eternity in a loop of torture brought by his immortal body.

But it wasn’t fun.

San Lang was fun. Xie Lian really did like his company. He’d wandered many places and met many people and so he was confident in saying he really did have an affinity with the man, not just an attachment born of bad circumstances.

“Is something wrong, gege?”

Lang Qianqiu was staring at the pair, no doubt shocked to hear a servant address his cold Guoshi so familiarly.

“A hundred laps,” Xie Lian scolded.

“Guoshi!”

“If you’d prefer, you can copy the Ethics Sutra fifty times instead.”

Clearly sulking, Lang Qianqiu headed off.

“Very strict indeed.”

Xie Lian reached out to take his hand, a barely there flash of surprise fluttering across San Lang’s face before he schooled it. “He has too much energy. Besides, he won’t remember this tomorrow,” he led him off. He could’ve just walked away from Lang Qianqiu without explanation, but even knowing he wasn’t real it didn’t seem proper. Besides, it would’ve probably prompted him to follow.

“We’re leaving him?”

“Did San Lang want to stay?”

“Not if gege doesn’t.” He followed easily, fingers interlacing with Xie Lian’s.

It was only then that Xie Lian processed what he had not realized when he’d touched San Lang before to correct his calligraphy. He had no body heat.

Not in the way a ghost would have no body heat. More in the way none of this world was not real. And Xie Lian could not feel things in it. Just as he couldn’t taste the meals or feel water being swallowed. He couldn’t feel the person beside him.

It was lonely.

But Xie Lian was used to being lonely.

“Is gege going to give me a tour?”

“Do you want one? I was just going to take you to my room.”

San Lang faked a gasp. “So bold! Next you’ll be telling me you’ll take off your mask.”

“Hasn’t San Lang already seen me undressed when he was peeping on me with his butterfly?”

“I wasn’t peeping,” San Lang huffed as if terribly wronged, but his eyes were smiling.

It was nice to make someone smile again. And to know what he did affected the outside world somehow.

You could do so much with just a conversation. And all Xie Lian wanted was a conversation.

One San Lang happily provided him for a long while until they were interrupted by another slow death.

But at least Xie Lian had something he knew he could look forward to now. It was about finding the upsides.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian didn’t really control what sort of day they were in, but he could pull them off to his room or his office or even to just wander the gardens and talk every time San Lang showed up.

They talked about everything.

Xie Lian had quickly given up trying to keep back any stories that revealed him as much older than he was, after all he usually didn’t and just accepted when people thought he was insane. San Lang took it in stride though.

They discussed traveling and the best techniques to build a home from scratch. They chatted about holidays and exchanged regional stories.

Xie Lian gave his actual name, though San Lang still called him ‘gege’. San Lang told him he was called ‘Hua Cheng’ and all the terribly evil stories that he proudly admitted to.

How long had it been since he’d had a friend that felt like his equal in terms of oddities and life experience? Surely much too long, if ever.

It was aimless and idle. It was intimate and precious. There was an ease to every conversation that couldn’t be faked as they shared this delusion with each other.

Hua Cheng listened like every word was a gift. He added his own thoughts with such care, always connected in such a way that let Xie Lian know he truly had been listening.

And though they were always cut off eventually and apparently Hua Cheng had to wait quite awhile between the time they spent together, he never complained.

Xie Lian laid out on the floor of his chambers, mask discarded as he looked up at the moon with Hua Cheng. It had unofficially been agreed that moon watching time was the time to recite poetry. Hua Cheng seemed extremely fond of poems full of yearning and grief for friends parting, an odd mix of slightly romantic poems thrown in too.

Xie Lian had started reciting his own choices, some chosen because they fit the talk of the night and some chosen to tease Hua Cheng’s own selection.

Today's poem was chosen to tease.

“By this wall that surrounds the three Ch'in districts,
Through a mist that makes five rivers one,
We bid each other a sad farewell,
We two officials going opposite ways. . . .
And yet, while China holds our friendship,
And heaven remains our neighbourhood,
Why should you linger at the fork of the road,
Wiping your eyes like a heart-broken child?”

“Gege that’s not fair, I miss you terribly between meetings and I’ve never cried.”

“Yes, San Lang is so brave holding back his tears,” Xie Lian nudged him with a laugh.

“You’re the one who always asks me to recite fitting poetry.”

Xie Lian rested his head against Hua Cheng’s shoulder. Even if he couldn’t feel it it felt natural by now. Xie Lian had always been a physically affectionate person. Or maybe he had learned to be after learning he could go a century without more contact than the brush of hands.

He’d give a limb to have someone truly hold him again. To know he could lean on a friend. To fall asleep tucked against someone else. All he had to caress him now were the rancid collection of body fluids around him.

“Alright, if you could recite anything, what would you recite?”

“My favorite poem. If gege wasn’t the one who had asked it of me I’d never let another poem cross my lips after all.”

Xie Lian laughed. “What kind of logic is that? It’s your favorite so you can’t even know other poems if I didn’t force your hand?”

“If I like something, then my heart will not have room for any other, and I’ll always treasure it. A thousand times, a million times, no matter how many years, this will not change. Until reciting poems for gege I had no reason to think of any poem besides that one.”

“Is that right? But San Lang knows so many.”

“Which is how I found it. And how I know it’s the best.”

Xie Lian’s smile couldn’t be tamed. “And what is San Lang’s precious poem I’ve been having him cheat on?”

Hua Cheng cleared his throat to begin, speaking with great emotion in every verse.

“No water is enough when you have crossed the sea；
No cloud is beautiful but that which crowns the peak.
I pass by flowers that fail to attract poor me
Half for your sake and half for Taoism I seek.”

“Ache of Separation,” Xie Lian murmured.

“En.”

“Another poem about yearning. San Lang has a type I see.”

“How can gege compare those other poems I recited to this one? They’re very different.”

Xie Lian realized their hands were joined. It was often easy to miss since he couldn’t really feel it. He didn’t remember doing so but he must have reached out at some point. It would be silly to assume Hua Cheng had after all.

“I’m reflecting on my actions now. I won’t make San Lang recite any poems he doesn’t like anymore.”

“What shall we do when we moon watch then?”

“We could exchange songs.”

Hua Cheng sighed dramatically. “I must confess gege, we’ll have the same problem.”

“Is that so? Only one of everything is allowed in San Lang’s heart? I should’ve known you were the sentimental sort with the poems you found fitting.”

“I’m very precious with my affections. They aren’t something light, so I have to be.”

“What’s the song?”

“You want me to sing it?”

“Why not? I’m sure you have a lovely voice.”

Hua Cheng let out a small laugh before following Xie Lian’s request, singing in a language Xie Lian did not recognize but understood all the same. It was a gentle song. Like a lullaby or a love ballad. Maybe it was full of the yearning and grief of those poems Hua Cheng picked or maybe it was the fulfillment of that yearning.

Either way it was beautiful.

“I like it. I see why it’s San Lang’s favorite.”

“I can sing it for you more often if you’d like.”

Xie Lian nodded. “I’d like that. I’ll sing you a song next although perhaps that would count as cheating on your song.”

“If gege’s singing it I would be happy to hear it.” He seemed to mean it.

“Am I just your loophole for everything?”

“It’s not a loophole.” He didn’t expand on that.

Laughing, Xie Lian shook his head. “Can I hear it again?”

He really wasn’t one to refuse Xie Lian. And so Hua Cheng began again.

Maybe he really wasn’t real, this perfect companion who’d magically wandered in. Maybe he was crafted from Xie Lian’s desperation. That would explain how wonderful he was and how he showed up every day. It wouldn’t explain how he knew more than Xie Lian at times.

He wanted to believe it was real though. He wanted to believe Hua Cheng was out there.

Unfortunately, it was only a few verses into the song that Xie Lian found himself pulled away, out of the sensationless snuggle of his new friend and into the prickling chill of death’s door. The moonlight lighting his chambers was replaced with utter darkness. The smile on his lips was replaced with a chapped and bitten raw mouth opened in a scream.

And he was dying again. As if it was his best talent, he was dying again.

Even with how much he enjoyed Hua Cheng’s company, he really wished one of these deaths would just stick.

Chapter Text

“You look different today,” Xie Lian commented as they arrived back in his chambers.

“En. I’m a shapeshifter.”

“I didn’t know that,” Xie Lian removed his mask and turned to properly look over the new skin.

It wasn’t terribly different from the one Hua Cheng had been coming in before, other than the eyepatch and the more elaborate clothes. A bit older perhaps. He’d seemed like a teenager before, he looked more properly like he would’ve been in his early twenties now. It suited him. Defined his face well.

“I thought I’d try something new today. I can use the other one if gege prefers it.”

“I don’t mind. San Lang is handsome either way.”

He perhaps even looked a bit more handsome like this. Or perhaps it was just the fact they were quite close by this point and people you thought highly of had a way of becoming more pleasing to the eye through some trick of the mind. It was impossible to say really. He didn’t care much either way.

“Gege thinks I’m handsome?”

“I’m sure San Lang is well aware he’s handsome,” Xie Lian smiled.

“I wasn’t aware gege thought so.”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

“Did I catch any?” Hua Cheng grinned.

“Well I must say, San Lang certainly isn’t modest,” he teased.

“Perhaps if gege had taken me on as his pupil he could’ve instilled some good virtue on me. Unfortunately without a guide I’ve gone loose.” He said this as if it were all a terrible shame and not his own fault.

“I believe it was already entirely too late by the time I met you to teach you humility.”

“It’s never too late. I’ve taught plenty of people older than me humility after all.”

“Oh? San Lang teaches?”

“You could call it that.”

Xie Lian grinned. “I’d love to know your lesson plan.”

“Beating them at the thing they claim to be best at tends to do the trick,” Hua Cheng replied with fake sincerity.

“What does San Lang think he’s best at?” There was so much to choose from in Xie Lian’s opinion.

He didn’t have to think long. “Devotion?”

“Ah. I’m not sure I can beat you at that. After all, I live my life freely remembering multiple poems and singing a collection of songs.”

“Gege, you’re teasing me,” he pretended to pout. It wasn’t terribly convincing when his gaze was so full of mischief.

“I would never. I think it’s cute that San Lang is so sincere about such things.”

For a moment, he swore he saw surprise cross Hua Cheng’s face, but it was quickly replaced with more mischief.

“So gege thinks I’m handsome, cute, and sincere?”

Xie Lian snorted. “And very talented at hearing only the bits you want.”

“I hear everything gege tells me.” Which sounded terribly genuine.

Xie Lian knew that was true too. Could tell by the conversations they had that Hua Cheng listened and remembered well. Because for all his jokes, he really was quite sincere when it came down to it.

A comfortable silence fell as Xie Lian just enjoyed his presence. Their stillness. They didn’t always talk after all. And Xie Lian was learning silence felt very different when you did it with someone.

He had known that once. But it had been a long time since he’d really felt it.

It was only when Xie Lian moved to try to take off the more elaborate outer layers of his robes that Hua Cheng spoke up again.

“Your hair is tangled.”

Xie Lian reached back to feel where the knot was. Of course he couldn’t feel it, it wasn’t real.

His real hair probably was tangled but he couldn’t move his body enough to feel the knots that must have formed, muck sinking into them. Would he have to cut it to get the knots out? He didn’t want to. Maybe he’d die before he had to make a decision.

Xie Lian winced, drawing his focus into their conversation. “I was in a hurry to dress this morning.”

Except he’d started his day here fully dressed. He hadn’t put them on. Even within this false world he'd never taken off the bloodstained black robes he’d been entombed in.

“I could brush it for you.”

Xie Lian felt his face heating, something about the offering feeling terribly forward. “Could you?”

“Of course. Just sit wherever is comfortable.”

Xie Lian took a seat at the edge of his bed, waiting patiently as he heard Hua Cheng come up behind him.

He couldn’t feel the brush. Couldn’t feel Hua Cheng touching him.

Normally it was fine. He was used to it after all.

Something about the lack of sensation felt crueler than usual now though.

“Do you have a lot of practice brushing hair for other people?”

“Not much. But I’ve handled my own of course. Do I seem like I do?”

“You just seemed the type who would do this for a lover.”

“Who told gege I had a lover?”

“No one of course, but San Lang is handsome and devoted. Girls must be very eager to marry you.”

“I already told gege about my reputation.”

Xie Lian raised a brow, even though he knew Hua Cheng couldn’t see. “Ah yes of course, how could I forget that women notoriously hate husbands with power and wealth.”

Hua Cheng snickered. “Fair enough.”

“You really don’t have one?”

“If I did I would’ve surely told gege about them a thousand times by now.”

“That’s true. San Lang wouldn’t have so much time to play around with me if he was taken.”

“I do have a beloved though,” he admitted after a moment.

Xie Lian felt something odd curl in his stomach completely separate from the agony rolling through it. “Oh?”

“En.”

“Why aren’t you together then? Surely there’s no one who would pass up someone like you.”

Hua Cheng made a noncommittal noise. “We were apart for a very long time. I didn’t think I’d ever pursue them like that.”

“Why not?” Xie Lian twisted around to see his face.

“I didn’t think I stood a chance. I still don’t really,” Hua Cheng moved to put the comb away.

“Who would say no to you?” He practically demanded the answer. It felt absolutely absurd that Hua Cheng of all people had love troubles.

Hua Cheng simply smiled though. “In order for them to say no I’d have to ask, wouldn’t I?”

If Xie Lian was out of the coffin, he would’ve liked to meet this person who made Hua Cheng smile like that. So fond and soft and handsome. He would’ve liked to understand how they could ever think of not returning the affections of the silly man who held only one of everything in his heart.

But instead Xie Lian was pulled out of their conversation and into the reality of his coffin. His coffin without Hua Cheng or foolish beloveds who took him for granted. His coffin with his hair a mess, still uncombed.

His coffin where he’d woken up only to die again. All he could do was die. What a gift this immortal body was. His own ideas for repentance shallowed in comparison to the hell Jun Wu’s well intentioned gift allowed.

Chapter Text

It must have been barely a few months into Xie Lian being appointed as Guoshi. Lang Qianqiu had that antsy curiosity the beginning of his tenure had produced.

Xie Lian ignored how often his student got distracted. That was, at least, until he felt Hua Cheng nearby.

Waving him over, he smiled behind his mask. “Come practice.”

“I thought gege hated my calligraphy.”

Lang Qianqiu stared, no doubt startled by the casual address for his mysterious Guoshi.

“I never said I hated it. San Lang’s calligraphy has a lot of spirit.”

“Oh? May I tell people I learned from you then?” He sat, in the single eyed form again today.

“Let’s not go that far,” Xie Lian patted his back, the two of them curling into each other like plants to the sun.

“Guoshi, who’s this?” It seemed Lang Qianqiu couldn’t help it anymore.

“Your Guoshi’s shameful secret,” Hua Cheng teased, causing the little prince to go wide eyed.

“San Lang, don’t say it like that.”

“Isn’t gege always the one saying he won’t remember anyways? What’s the harm?”

“…Is he family?” Lang Qianqiu asked, a child’s nosiness.

“He’s none of your concern, focus on your calligraphy. You too San Lang.”

Hua Cheng sighed but picked up a brush and began, copying out Ache of Separation since Lang Qianqiu had been copying from a book of poetry.

It really was just as bad as Xie Lian remembered. Still, he thought he maybe liked it a bit more this time, now that he knew Hua Cheng. He would’ve made such a fine scholar if his writing didn’t look so ominous. Honestly, it was impressive in its own way that he’d managed to create something so devolved from the original characters.

“Remember you have to hold your brush like this,” Xie Lian moved to guide him, hand over hand again. “Eyes on your own paper, your highness.”

Letting out a small squeak, Lang Qianqiu did his best to look like he wasn’t staring.

“How about like this?” Hua Cheng led their hands wildly off course, a small picture of Xie Lian taking shape instead.

It was quite elegant. An image of him as a Guoshi, the doodle giving him a certain aura of mystery and detachment even while created in such a short time. It showed great skill.

Which frankly only made it more baffling that Hua Cheng’s calligraphy was so atrocious.

“It’s very good. It’s too bad it won’t keep.” He tried to commit it to his memory instead. Good things like this were always the best use of that space after all.

“I can draw gege as many portraits as he likes,” Hua Cheng promised, soft and sweet.

“If you have so much time to let your eyes wander from your own work I expect everything copied twice.” Xie Lian stood.

“Guoshi!”

Hua Cheng suppressed a laugh, standing with him and letting Xie Lian led him off. “Gege I’m beginning to think you enjoyed bullying the crown prince.”

Xie Lian realized their hands were intertwined again. He hadn’t felt it happen. He still didn’t know which of them kept doing that. “I’m sure San Lang has heard the rumors. I’ve done much worse.”

Hua Cheng’s expression didn’t change. “You don’t really interact with him like all that is true so I couldn’t say one way or another.”

Xie Lian’s body convulsed, acknowledgment of the swirling memories that forced him to think about the truth pushing his awareness out of this space and—

“Gege?” Hua Cheng was trying to hold him, but he couldn’t feel him.

He’d never been able to feel him.

It was so hard to forget where he really was.

It was so hard to keep himself here knowing he was never here.

He truly wanted to explain. He wanted to hear what Hua Cheng thought if he claimed he’d done it all or perhaps admitted the truth to just one person. He wanted to hear how it had gone for Lang Qianqiu in the aftermath. If using him as a scapegoat has kept the peace. If Lang Qianqiu had married or ascended. If Yong’an was still around and still striving for peace amongst its citizens.

He had to not truly think about it beyond passing glances, that’s the only way this whole thing worked really.

See, there was an art to being in a death cycle. When you were dead it didn’t hurt, because nothing felt like anything and there was a period of time where your body healed from these impossible things where you still couldn’t feel it or think because not enough of you was functioning again.

So all the pain happened in that little blip. That blip of time between when you were healed enough for awareness but on track for another death. And it was excruciating. It made you cry or heave or thrash or beg. Sometimes it made you hallucinate.

And sometimes the hallucinations didn’t hurt so bad.

So Xie Lian had developed a method.

As much time as he could during those blips he meditated, emptying his mind of the pain and purposely allowing himself to craft a hallucination that could keep him from the awful reality around him.

They couldn’t involve things he wasn’t familiar with because that made it harder to picture. They couldn’t focus too much on sensations because that ruined the illusion that much quicker.

Imagining Yong’an was perfect. He didn’t have to completely avoid thinking of all the things his mind was drawn to. Didn’t have to worry about food or drink or touch, because he hadn’t really indulged in much of that during his time as the Guoshi.

He wanted to explain all this, so Hua Cheng could understand why they shouldn’t mention this again, why it had been a mistake for Xie Lian to make the offhanded joke that had spurred his mind so fully in that direction. He wanted to tell Hua Cheng where he was so he could help him get out. He wanted to stay here, just a bit longer, or at least die quickly so they could meet again soon.

He wanted so much.

He knew he couldn’t have it. He was used to not having it.

So Xie Lian tried to reassure him instead. Tried to focus just on this moment and getting out the words: “I’ll be okay.”

He couldn’t, he was fading too quickly now that he’d truly considered his real body, but before his mental illusion shattered, he swore he felt the warmth of Hua Cheng’s touch shooting through him.

And it burned like a strike of electricity.

Xie Lian did not wake up suffocating for once.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng shot up out of the spot he’d been sitting, throat tight with dread.

He’d found Xie Lian again. Sort of.

It was a cultivation technique that allowed for partnered cultivation, even when you weren’t together. It was primarily an unused technique since it had been all but lost and had mostly been used by less scrupulous cultivators leeching off better ones. Most cultivators would have protected themselves against such an intrusion anyways. It had felt like a longshot.

But he’d tried it anyways. It was surprisingly easy to find Xie Lian like that. Even after all these centuries Hua Cheng’s memory of Xie Lian’s spiritual signature was precise. It didn’t tell him Xie Lian’s real location, but it was still like experiencing the sensation of him. The same way gods and ghosts had auras that could be felt and detected, Xie Lian had one too, dampened though it may be from his loss of godhood and sealed cultivation, it was precious.

Hua Cheng had never joined another person’s meditation or cultivation, but he hadn’t expected it to be a full world. That wasn’t his experience with how meditation worked for himself or his readings. It wasn’t concerning though. Hua Cheng was using an odd technique, why couldn’t his god?

Besides, it was a joy to feel not just his spiritual signature but to see him in a way. To speak with him.

It was a bit irritating to still not have found his god to help properly, but at least like this he could funnel his spiritual energy to Xie Lian despite their distance. And Xie Lian knew who he was now, he could’ve found Hua Cheng too if he wanted.

Or at least, that’s what he’d assumed.

Because he knew Xie Lian was meditating he’d assumed that meant he was alive and well. Based on the contents of his meditation, he was still working through whatever had happened nearly a century ago, but he had to be somewhere safe to be meditating didn’t he?

He’d assumed this strange world they jointly meditated in was the result of Xie Lian finding a way to work through the things that troubled him. The fact that Hua Cheng could seemingly bring him joy during these sessions was wonderful. He’d hoped it meant Xie Lian was really working through whatever it was that led him to meditate like this.

True, Xie Lian always left the sessions abruptly. That wasn’t terribly strange though. He’d never given any indication he was distressed when he left before. Hua Cheng knew he was likely traveling. It could be wherever he meditated was prone to interruption or that this technique to form an entire world cost more energy than Xie Lian could sustain for longer periods of time. There was nothing worrying about that.

Until today at least. He’d looked pained before he vanished today. Like it was taking everything for him to stay in their joined meditation.

And Hua Cheng had a terrible premonition.

Pulling out his dice, he headed straight to the closest point he could where he understood the Guoshi Fangxin’s tomb to be.

It wasn’t necessarily common knowledge, but Hua Cheng had figured it out recently.

When he’d realized Xie Lian had been the Guoshi Fangxin, he’d thought he must’ve gone far from Yong’an immediately after being “killed” to avoid any trouble or further persecution.

He’d assumed Xie Lian got out almost immediately.

It had been almost a century. Xie Lian had been meditating. How the fuck did someone meditate through something like that?

Why the fuck hadn’t Hua Cheng just checked?

Hua Cheng’s hands shook as he tore into the tomb, taking in the wretched stench of death and torture that came from the coffin, it’s heavy wooden top thrown to the corner of the room.

And on the floor in front of it, coated in old blood and in a puddle of new blood, was Xie Lian, his mask fallen off and laying beside where he was crumpled in a heap.

Like he’d only just gotten out.

Like he’d only had enough strength to finally break free before he died again.

Hua Cheng didn’t need to breath, but he was sure he was choking, or maybe crying, as he cradled his god close, blood seeping through his own clothes and leaving him damp and hollow with the knowledge he had failed.

Again he had failed.

Again his god had suffered.

He didn’t remember going back to Paradise Manor. He didn’t know how long Xie Lian would be out for.

He vaguely remembered undressing Xie Lian with the utmost care, pouring warm water over the wound until the fabric unstuck and scrubbing Xie Lian free of layers of things he was not aware enough to try to parse. Delicate, as if he’d shatter. Delicate, hands trembling, while he funneling spiritual energy into his god to try to help the healing process. Delicate, vision blurring as he laid out a freshly bundled Xie Lian’s hair and slowly rinsed and combed his way through sections, working out dried tangles and wet muck.

It must’ve have taken hours. Maybe it took the whole day. He couldn’t say. Xie Lian did not breathe and Hua Cheng had joined him in his inability to tell time.

That was why Xie Lian only knew the days he was meditating. He wasn’t alive for anything else. He couldn’t see the turning of the sun or moon to tell time inside the coffin. He could only suffer.

And Hua Cheng hadn’t helped him.

Hua Cheng came to fully when he had situated Xie Lian in the bed that had long been intended for him. Xie Lian’s wound seemed to have stopped bleeding and Hua Cheng had put him in the best under robes he owned, soft and a good thickness.

He seemed too pale still. Too dead. And Hua Cheng knew he’d heal physically but that didn’t change what had already happened.

For Xie Lian it had probably only been a few weeks they had known each other, but Hua Cheng knew his first time finding Xie Lian in that meditation world was over a year ago. Nearly two. For near two years now he’d been searching as far from Yong’an as possible trying to find Xie Lian, looking everywhere but where he was and failing him again and again and—

He ensured no one came into Paradise Manor while Xie Lian rested save for Yin Yu, who delivered a tray of fresh food daily just in case Xie Lian woke.

And he sat. And waited.

He wanted to go challenge the foolish god of the east and watch him crumble.

But Xie Lian came first.

He couldn’t leave while his god was suffering and as much as he disliked it, he didn’t think Xie Lian would want him flat out killing Lang Qianqiu. There was little chance the righteous god would accept a challenge for his godhood and even if he would, he was the type to make good on that promise. Watching Lang Qianqiu live a mortal life and die a mortal death wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as it had been with the thirty three gods before who’d been so caught up in their pride that stolen godhood had been it’s own torture.

And either way, he really couldn’t bear to be away from his god. It was selfish, he knew but… he just wanted to share the same space with him. To know when Xie Lian opened his eyes he could apologize and offer anything he could need immediately.

Xie Lian still hadn’t explained the Gilded Massacre. If he really did want Lang Qianqiu killed, Hua Cheng could deliver his head when his god was awake to accept it.

Until then, he waited.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng spent two weeks at Xie Lian’s bedside, wordlessly funneling him spiritual energy with light touches to his chest where he knew the wound was the worst.

Hua Cheng spent two weeks keeping a bedside vigil for the god he wanted to help more than anything. For the god he’d failed too many times to count.

Yin Yu changed out the food every day, and it was through that that Hua Cheng kept track of time.

He cared little for how much he had to wait. He had a vague idea of how long Xie Lian naturally took to heal based on how often he’d been able to see him during meditation, but he had no idea if his energy would help kickstart the process faster.

He had waited six centuries for Xie Lian, and while he had not idled like this for those six centuries, he did not mind it. He could’ve quietly taken care of Xie Lian’s form for six centuries more waiting for his return.

But it was two weeks in that Xie Lian’s breath began again.

Hua Cheng sat up straighter, nervous and excited and guilty and relieved.

Xie Lian was still too pale, but he was breathing, just barely.

Hua Cheng watched as Xie Lian’s eyelashes fluttered and then remained steadily shut as his breathing evened out.

It took him another hour of watching, waiting eagerly for his god to open his eyes to realize what had happened.

Xie Lian was meditating again.

Did he still think he was in the coffin? Was he so conditioned to instantly blocking out his surroundings he didn’t even allow time to let himself feel he was safe before pulling himself under?

Steadying his mind, Hua Cheng began his own meditation, reaching out to feel Xie Lian’s aura and sink into it.

The Yong’an palace. He really was meditating.

Hua Cheng let himself fully form in this false world, mingling his aura with Xie Lian’s in a way that was well practiced by now as he turned to find him.

He usually formed somewhere near Xie Lian. The edges of such illusions weren’t fully formed. The parts that existed only existed as Xie Lian needed them to. When he left an area it ceased to be. So it wasn’t actually possible to ever manifest far from him.

But just as he was keyed in towards finding Xie Lian, Xie Lian had begun to seek him out when he sensed him nearby, so Hua Cheng had only just begun to walk down the hall towards that imposing figure when it turned, posturing easing into something sweeter as it saw him.

“San Lang!” The Guoshi Fangxin, rumored to be cold and imposing behind a mask that allowed for no trace of feelings to leak through, walked towards him like a close friend.

His god walked towards him like a close friend.

“Gege. Where were you going?”

He didn’t mention how they had parted last. It was an unspoken agreement between them that they never did. That they pretended like they never had unfinished business from last time. He was unclear how much of that was in deference to the fact Xie Lian knew it had been a long time for him and how much of it was because Xie Lian himself did not remember the way they parted fully.

“A lesson maybe. We can go back to my room if you’d rather do that though?”

Hua Cheng ignored, as he always did, how absolutely scandalous it felt that Xie Lian always offered like that and promptly started stripping his mask and heavier layers when they were alone. He was far from indecent, but Hua Cheng’s feelings for him were overwhelming at the best of times.

“I’d rather go to mine if it’s all the same to gege.”

Xie Lian laughed. “I’m not sure I know where that is. Didn’t San Lang say he doesn’t live in Yong’an?”

“I don’t.” Hua Cheng took his hand gently, though it never felt like anything. The tangle of their spiritual energy gave him far more sensations than miming physical affection did.

But Hua Cheng was selfish and Xie Lian seemed to enjoy the play acting of intimacy too.

“It’s okay now gege. You can wake up.”

He saw rather than felt the way Xie Lian’s hand twitched.

“I am awake, San Lang.”

“You’re not in the coffin anymore.”

The world flickered around them, Xie Lian with it. But it was okay. Hua Cheng knew Xie Lian would come to somewhere safe now.

“San Lang we can’t talk about this.” It was clear Xie Lian was trying hard to maintain his focus, but unlike the pain of before he mostly seemed confused, his mask having vanished during the flickering like a detail he’d forgotten to put back.

How much could he tell while blocking it out? Was he realizing he wasn’t in pain now that Hua Cheng had pointed it out?

“You’re safe. I have you. I’ll head back first, alright?”

Xie Lian nodded, still clearly confused but eyes trusting.

So Hua Cheng untangled from Xie Lian and opened his eye.

He didn’t have to wait much longer before Xie Lian’s eyes flickered open properly.

He was beautiful.

Xie Lian sat up slowly, looking around him with eyes kept mostly closed. It only took Hua Cheng a moment to figure out why, blowing out the candles in a flash so that only the faint light from outside filtered in. A dim light that wouldn’t hurt Xie Lian’s eyes as they readjusted to being used.

“Here, let me get you—“ he meant to say water. Meant to grab the tray Yin Yu had left a bit earlier that day. Before he could finish though, Xie Lian shot out to grab his hand, seeming to marvel at actually being able to make contact.

Xie Lian’s grip was warm and firm, his strength a bit uncontrolled but his hold sure.

Hua Cheng leaned in, adjusting his hand so that their fingers were properly interlocked and watching the way Xie Lian simply stared at that simple point of contact. He didn’t deserve this. He shouldn’t indulge in this, but it was what Xie Lian needed for now and his own self imposed punishment came second to that.

“Sorry,“ he seemed to remember himself after a moment, letting go. “I didn’t mean to grab you like that.”

“It’s alright. You wanted to feel that it was real, right?” He pulled up the blanket he’d had around Xie Lian, letting its softness brush against his god’s face and feeling his chest lock up as Xie Lian burrowed his face into the fabric, seeking out the comfort of soft touches.

“I have water for you too,” he held it out, not flinching for a moment when Xie Lian dumped half of it on his lap trying to drink too quickly. Of course he would drink too quickly. He hadn’t had water in years.

Hua Cheng did, however, notice Xie Lian’s minor twitch of discomfort at his lap now being wet. Did it remind him of the blood? It didn’t matter why he disliked it. Hua Cheng dried it with a blast of spiritual energy before cutting the food into small portions so Xie Lian didn’t choke when he ate.

He passed each one over, no words exchanged between them as he allowed time for Xie Lian to simply remember how to exist in the real world.

Xie Lian ate like the experience was foreign to him, chewing too much or not enough sucking on foods Hua Cheng couldn’t fathom why he saw a need to. He didn’t question it though. With how much Xie Lian had seemed to delight in soft sensations, feeling food in his mouth was probably something he wanted to savor.

“Is this your room?” He asked after awhile, a bit of meat still in his mouth as he reached out for the last of the food.

Hua Cheng passed it over, trusting Xie Lian a bit more not to choke on two bites. “It’s yours. But this is my residence.”

Xie Lian nodded, clearly digesting his surroundings as much as he was digesting his food. It seemed he really had just wanted to have both a bit of meat and vegetable in his mouth, clearly playing with it for a bit before he remembered to chew and swallow.

“Is there something else your highness would like?”

It was a slip up to call him by title, but Xie Lian either didn’t mind or didn’t notice as he stared at the now empty food plate.

“I think,” he said carefully, as if every word took much deliberation, “I’ll take a nap.”

Saying this, he promptly laid back down and shoved his face into the softness of the blankets.

If Hua Cheng were not so terribly overwhelmed he might have laughed.

As it was he simply cleaned his hands and took back up his quiet vigil.

Let Xie Lian rest as long as he needed. He was safe now.

Hua Cheng wouldn’t fail him again.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng raised his head as soon as he noticed Xie Lian shifting into wakefulness.

Once again, he dropped into meditation almost instantly. This time though, he pulled himself out of it after a few moments, reaching out to Hua Cheng with bleary eyes.

Hua Cheng had lit one of the candles while he’d been asleep, just a bit more light than Xie Lian had handled before.

“Are you hungry? There’s more food if gege—“ he paused as Xie Lian grasped at his hand again.

He had resolved to punish himself for his failure. To not indulge so much in the friendship Xie Lian had granted him. But it was very hard when it was so clear that was what Xie Lian craved most.

His eyes were intense, almost curious. As if he had never touched another person before.

Though Xie Lian had seemed fairly normal and well mannered within the meditation, he had spent nearly a century without any real human contact or rest and it was clear that had worn on him, blurring his common sense a bit.

Just like before though, it didn’t take him long to realize what he was doing, pulling back.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Stuffing back his guilt, he held out both his hands. “Gege can grab me if he wants. Didn’t we do as much in the other world?”

Xie Lian only hesitated for a moment before seeming to see something in his gaze he liked, taking both of Hua Cheng’s hands in his own and squeezing.

If he had been mortal it would have hurt. He’d given Xie Lian a good deal of spiritual energy by now through the healing process and it seemed he wasn’t used to tempering that power. Still, Hua Cheng wouldn’t flinch.

“Let me know if this is rude,” Xie Lian seemed to apologize before moving Hua Cheng’s hands to skate up his arms, over his robes.

Hua Cheng suppressed the urge to— well he didn’t know. Shiver? Gasp? None of it was right, nothing had ever felt like this before but regardless this wasn’t about him and he couldn’t— he couldn’t think too much about the way Xie Lian was guiding his hands up Xie Lian’s arms and shoulders and brushing them past his hair.

“If gege would like to be touched, you can tell me how.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do something like that,” Xie Lian said politely, not seeming to see the way guiding Hua Cheng’s hands up to cup his neck was perhaps even more intimate than just instructing him.

If it had been before, within their shared meditation, Hua Cheng would’ve quipped about how bold he was being. Would’ve invited Xie Lian to touch him too.

But he had lost that privilege uselessly letting Xie Lian suffer for so long, so instead he waited patiently— so very patiently as Xie Lian cupped his own face with Hua Cheng’s hands. Ran Hua Cheng’s hands through his hair like a comb. Guided the contact to be firm or just barely touching.

The gift of being the one Xie Lian used for this was the most exquisite torture, but eventually Xie Lian seemed to remember social norms enough to have his face heat and his grip drop.

“I’m so sorry, San Lang, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s alright. Gege can have whatever he wants. I have more food and water if you’d like.” He gestured to where it was set, just beside the bed.

This time Xie Lian drank without spilling and brought the whole tray of food over to himself.

“Have you already eaten?”

Hua Cheng shook his head. “The food was for you.”

“San Lang, it’s not as though I’ll die if you have some.” Xie Lian promptly began to split everything in half, arranging the plate so that one side was his and one side could be Hua Cheng’s before he dug in. “You have to eat properly.”

Hua Cheng didn’t really, but he did as Xie Lian said, quietly eating his half of the plate.

“You’re different in the real world.”

“How so?”

Xie Lian chewed thoughtfully. “It might just be my imagination.”

Hua Cheng accepted the drop of the topic, the two of them quietly finishing their portions.

Xie Lian stared at him while Hua Cheng finished his own, having finished first. It didn’t look like he wanted to say anything. Just as though he’d sort of forgotten it wasn’t appropriate to stare so blatantly. He caught himself after a bit though, seeming to startle before he rubbed his face.

“Thank you for rescuing me. I don’t think I said that before.”

“Gege needn’t thank me for anything. You had broken yourself out by the time I found you.”

Xie Lian tilted his head. “Wasn’t that because you gave me a big burst of spiritual energy on our last meeting though? I’d kicked that lid plenty of times, it hadn’t ever come off so easily before.”

Hua Cheng had tried to give Xie Lian more spiritual energy before he’d left, but he didn’t consider that anywhere close to enough. He stayed quiet.

“Besides, either way I’d definitely be much worse off if San Lang hadn’t come to get me. I doubt I was so clean when you found me.”

“Gege just needed a bath and some fresh clothes.”

Xie Lian gave him an amused smile, clearly not believing him. Which was fair, it was a vast understatement after all.

“Ruoye didn’t give you a hard time, did it?”

“The spirit attached to you?”

“En.”

Hearing its name, the bandage that had been doing its best to staunch Xie Lian’s wound for a century peeked out of his robes.

Hua Cheng didn’t remember much about cleaning off Xie Lian, but if Ruoye had given him trouble he was fairly certain he would have tied it in a knot and left it to be handled after Xie Lian woke. It must’ve stayed out of his way if he’d let it stay. He could vaguely recall tossing it in the bath and letting it handle itself.

“It was no trouble at all.”

“I’m glad. I’d hate for my two favorite ghosts to be on bad terms after all,” Xie Lian joked.

Favorite. Xie Lian had called him one of his favorites.

Hua Cheng’s hand tightened around nothing, momentarily distracted as Xie Lian fumbled his way off the bed and stood on only slightly unsteady feet.

“I’ll take my leave now. I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Your highness, wait,” Hua Cheng stood. “Please stay as long as you need.”

“It’s alright, San Lang seems a bit uncomfortable with me now, I wouldn’t want us to end up parting on bad terms.”

Hua Cheng’s heart lurched. Is that what Xie Lian thought of his distance? That Hua Cheng didn’t like him anymore? That couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Gege, please,” Hua Cheng reached out to hold him, finding Xie Lian had fully steadied himself in the short time he’d been standing. “I’d like you to stay. At least until you have somewhere else to go.”

Xie Lian met his gaze, unflinching yet gentle, and nodded. “Alright. Thank you for having me.”

“Believe me, your highness. It’s my pleasure. Feel free to ask for anything you want.”

Xie Lian padded over to the window, seeming mildly confused he’d dragged Hua Cheng with him. “Can we explore out there?”

“In Ghost City?”

“En.”

“Of course.”

With that approval, Xie Lian began to try to climb through the window, stopped with gentle hands around his waist.

“Why don’t we get you dressed first and use the door? Unless gege likes the window for a particular reason?”

“Ah,” Xie Lian blinked as he registered the way human interaction worked once again. “Yes, perhaps the door would be better.”

Hua Cheng would not shy away from his touch. Would not give Xie Lian reason to believe he should leave. “This way gege. You can pick out your robes.”

Chapter Text

Xie Lian’s first visit to Ghost City was one filled with much wandering, an abundance of enthusiastically started and then half forgotten conversations with strangers, and a clear desire on Xie Lian’s part to touch everything. His mission to touch everything was only held back by his standing mission to hold Hua Cheng’s hand the entire time.

It was incredible. It was more than he deserved, but it was less than Xie Lian deserved, so he remained hand in hand with him as they walked.

The ghosts they interacted with luckily didn’t seem to notice anything amiss with Xie Lian. If Hua Cheng hadn’t seen the way he interacted within their meditation, he may have assumed this more tactile and overly aware version was simply who his god had become through the years.

He wouldn’t have minded. Xie Lian was beautiful like this, taking the hands of strangers who wanted the chance to greet their Lord’s guest. Staring a little bit too long at lanterns like they were new to him. Attentive and appreciative of the rowdy sounds around them.

But he was sure he’d think Xie Lian was beautiful when he was settled too.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Xie Lian would still want to hold his hand like this when that time came. He had in the meditation after all. Perhaps that much wasn’t the result of his recent circumstances but just a natural trait?

Xie Lian laughed at what the latest ghost was saying, humbly refusing the grave fruit they were offering.

His laugh sounded even better in person. It had Hua Cheng’s attention caught, as if it had ever strayed from this wonderful man.

He laughed a lot in Ghost City. Or maybe Xie Lian just laughed a lot in general. They weren’t all the genuine laughs Hua Cheng had gotten from him before, but they weren’t forced either. More conversational. Some awkward.

They were still precious.

It was hours into their aimless wandering that Xie Lian squeezed his hand.

Hua Cheng gave him his full attention, head tilted patiently as he waited to see what his beloved needed.

“Is there somewhere quieter we could go?”

Hua Cheng nodded, leading him back to Paradise Manor.

Xie Lian seemed to get his bearings quickly, leading them towards the room Hua Cheng had given him before. Of course he had been clever enough to memorize the path from his room to the door after one time.

It was only when they were in the room that Xie Lian finally dropped his hand to stretch, leaving behind a chill Hua Cheng ignored.

“Did gege have fun?”

“En. San Lang’s very kind for escorting me.” He sat down on the bed, patting the spot next to him.

Hua Cheng followed his lead, taking his seat next to him. “Gege escorted me around Yong’an plenty of times, it was the least I could do.”

Xie Lian shook his head. “I’m sure San Lang can tell I’m still a bit out of it.”

“Gege needn’t worry. Take all the time you need to recover.”

Xie Lian smiled. “I know. I just meant to say I’m not so out of it that I didn’t hear San Lang calling me ‘your highness’ earlier.”

Hua Cheng refused to flinch. But he did brace himself. Wondered if Xie Lian would mind the truth. Wondered how much of the truth he had to explain.

But Xie Lian didn’t seem interested in continuing that conversation, dropping it as if he had really only wanted to let Hua Cheng know he knew and nothing more.

“Just let me know when I’ve overstayed my welcome.” Xie Lian leaned against him the same way they had in meditations, only now they could feel each other.

“Gege could never.”

“San Lang is too accommodating.”

“Gege invited a stranger into his mind.” He pointed out.

Xie Lian shrugged. Hua Cheng could feel that too now. The way his shoulders bumped him with the movement.

“It’s not as though you could’ve made anything worse.”

Hua Cheng pursed his lips. “While you stay with me I have a request.”

“Anything,” Xie Lian said it so easily even though that couldn’t possibly be true.

“Please take better care of yourself.”

Xie Lian pulled back to look at him. “What?”

“I know it wasn’t your choice to be stuck there. And I know I was the one breaking into your highness’ mind. But please value yourself more.”

Xie Lian looked forward. “Well. In a way it was my choice to be put in the coffin. I just didn’t realize I’d actually be stuck for so long.”

Hua Cheng’s stomach dropped.

“I had already fled, I purposely came back so that things could be settled with my death.”

“Your highness.”

“It’s really fine San Lang. If it’s between my death or another’s, of course I’d choose mine. They don’t really count so no one gets hurt this way.”

“They count.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Your highness said it yourself, you’re still recovering.”

Xie Lian seemed surprised.

“While you’re here you can do as you like, there’s nothing you could request that could be out of line, I only ask your highness to understand that you are someone. And you get hurt. It counts when you hurt.”

Xie Lian was quiet for a moment before leaning on him again. “Did I look very bad when you found me?”

Hua Cheng nodded.

“I see. San Lang must have worked very hard to clean me up. I really do appreciate it.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“It’s too bad I wasn’t awake for it.”

“You needed time to heal.”

“No, I know. I’ve just thought a lot about it since you brushed my hair in the other world. I couldn’t feel it then after all.”

Hua Cheng turned his face, his nose brushing the top of Xie Lian’s head where it rested on his shoulder. “I could brush it again.”

“I can brush it myself now.”

“You could in the other world too.”

“Do you really want to?” Xie Lian turned his head so his chin was on Hua Cheng’s shoulder instead, their noses brushing now.

Catching himself, Xie Lian leaned back to make space.

“Of course.”

“Do we have a comb in here?”

Hua Cheng nodded, getting up to grab it and settling behind Xie Lian on the bed.

The first time he’d brushed it, it hadn’t felt like anything.

The second time he’d brushed it, it had been a difficult and tragic affair.

This time, Hua Cheng got to hold the end strands delicately. This time Hua Cheng got to hear Xie Lian sigh as the comb reached his scalp.

This time, because he thought Xie Lian might like it, he ran his fingers through, massaging Xie Lian’s scalp until he was lulling towards sleep under Hua Cheng’s careful touch.

“Rest, gege,” he whispered as he felt his god nodding off.

“I should stay up to keep you company,” Xie Lian yawned. “I’ve been sleeping so long.”

“A bit more won’t hurt,” Hua Cheng assured him, leading him to lay down.

He hadn’t taken off his outer layers, but they weren’t too thick or fussy so hopefully it would be fine. He didn’t want to risk disturbing Xie Lian’s drowsy state.

“Will you be here in the morning?” Xie Lian sounded so tired Hua Cheng wasn’t sure he’d meant to truly say it outloud.

Still, he pulled the blanket up so Xie Lian could nuzzle against the softness of the fabric again. “For as long as you’d like me to be, your highness.”

Chapter Text

Maybe it was because they’d already had something of a routine in the other world, or maybe it was because he was naturally easy going, but Xie Lian adjusted very quickly to living with Hua Cheng.

They walked Ghost City together. They chatted in Paradise Manor the same way they’d chatted in Xie Lian’s “bedroom”. And every day Hua Cheng could see Xie Lian getting more accustomed to being out of the coffin again.

While he didn’t rub his face against the blankets or touch everything anymore, his skinship with Hua Cheng hadn’t seemed to stop.

It wasn’t that Xie Lian needed to constantly be holding his hand exactly. But if their hands weren’t joined then their shoulders would be brushing or their knees touching.

It was for this reason he reasoned it wasn’t selfish of him to keep seeking out contact. Clearly it was important to Xie Lian.

It would feel a lot more convincing if he wasn’t slowly becoming accustomed to keeping a hand on Xie Lian’s hip like a lover when they went out.

All the same, there came a point every day when Xie Lian either fell asleep or went to bed where Hua Cheng left him alone, waiting until Xie Lian opened his bedroom door to approach him again.

Hua Cheng rarely slept during that time. It was difficult when his god was so close.

And when he knew Xie Lian was not as alright as he pretended to be.

The butterfly he had stationed outside Xie Lian’s door was there specifically to warn him when Xie Lian left for the morning, nothing more. He did not observe Xie Lian in the room because his god deserved privacy, even if Xie Lian probably would’ve said it was fine either way.

Still, even just stationed outside the door he could not help but overhear the way Xie Lian’s sleep was not peaceful.

There were sounds of moving furniture that all seemed to be moved back by morning. A few yells. Loud thumps as if Xie Lian had knocked something hard.

Perhaps it was for these reasons Xie Lian did not usually go to bed first, but instead fell asleep accidentally while Hua Cheng was present.

Hua Cheng gently settled Xie Lian into the bed, hoping his god would dream a bit easier tonight, even if he knew it was probably a futile wish.

“I’m still awake, you don’t have to go,” Xie Lian murmured, clearly half asleep.

Hua Cheng smiled, allowing himself to cup his beloved’s face and watching Xie Lian ease at the motion. “You should rest gege. It’s late.”

“Mn. That’s right, San Lang is probably tired,” Xie Lian yawned.

Hua Cheng suppressed a laugh.

“Sorry, I’ll let you rest.” Xie Lian pulled back, still half asleep and oddly resigned as he drifted out, breathing evening enough for Hua Cheng to feel comfortable leaving.

Still. It was odd for Xie Lian to try to keep him there. Usually if he woke up during the transfer to his bed he simply thanked Hua Cheng and sunk into the pillow. Were his nightmares getting worse?

Wondering about this made it more difficult than ever to sleep.

It didn’t take long for his answer to come though. This time it wasn’t with screams or dragging furniture, but instead steady, rhythmic thumps that began a few hours later.

Taking a chance, Hua Cheng made his way over to Xie Lian’s room, knocking at the door.

It took a moment but Xie Lian answered, wide awake and perfectly normal if a bit sloppy with the bun he’d put up.

“San Lang, what are you doing awake?”

“I could ask gege the same question.”

“Nothing really. Can you not sleep?” Xie Lian opened the door more for him. Inviting him in.

Hua Cheng obliged. “Not really.

“Did you want to chat more then?”

“If it wouldn’t keep you up.”

Xie Lian shrugged, pulling out his bun and running his fingers through the strands. “I only sleep for a few hours at a time.”

Hua Cheng easily stepped up to take over the brushing, the comb in his hand in seconds and Xie Lian easily giving up the task. “Is there a problem with the bed?”

“Just the result of a lot of rest I suppose,” Xie Lian shrugged.

Hua Cheng’s knuckles dragged lightly down Xie Lian’s back as he gathered his hair. “Is this gege’s way of asking for more exercise to tire him out? Lounging with me all day is too boring?”

“There’s nothing wrong with boring days, but I suppose it would feel good to move a bit more than we have been with just our walks.”

“What does gege have in mind?”

“San Lang, you fight right?”

Hua Cheng quirked a brow, though Xie Lian couldn’t see it since he had to face forward for Hua Cheng to brush his hair. “I do.”

“Do you spar?”

“I’ve never had a partner for such a thing. Is gege offering?”

“If you’re up for it.”

“What weapons does gege want to use?” He’d shown Xie Lian the armory the third day. It had been highly productive.

“I thought we could just start hand to hand? I’m still getting used to all the spiritual energy you gave me to be honest, I don’t want to hurt you on accident.”

“Gege’s very confident in his abilities,” Hua Cheng grinned. “Or perhaps just unimpressed by mine?”

“I’m sure San Lang is very talented based on the drills I’ve seen you run, but isn’t San Lang the one always telling me to be careful?”

“That’s for gege.”

“It’s for you too. I wouldn’t want you to actually get hurt.”

Hua Cheng set the brush aside, finished since Xie Lian’s hair hadn’t actually needed much brushing in the first place, and stepped forward so Xie Lian could see him properly. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

“It will. But why don’t we start with wrestling?”

“If that’s what gege wants.”

“It is.”

Hua Cheng moved to lead him to the practice room, watching as Xie Lian settled into a balanced stance.

“Ready?” Xie Lian asked.

Hua Cheng remained standing the way he always did, hands behind his back and completely relaxed. “Ready.”

“San Lang, take it seriously.”

“I’m very serious, gege. I’m playing defense.”

Xie Lian snorted and nearly pinned him at a breathtaking speed. “Oh San Lang is paying attention!”

“That’s not very nice, you didn’t believe me?”

“You don’t look very ready to fight,” Xie Lian pointed out as his eyes tracked Hua Cheng’s leisurely stroll.

“What’s the point in looking ready as long as I am?”

Xie Lian dodged Hua Cheng’s own grapple, a sudden and unannounced thing, though even he seemed surprised he had done it, as if it was more instinct than anything. Knowing Xie Lian, it probably had been. If they really wanted to wrestle it would’ve been more productive for Xie Lian to simply meet the grapple head on, not dodge.

“Gege’s too sharp for me.”

“San Lang doesn’t have to go easy on me.”

“Gege, I’m really not.”

Xie Lian didn’t seemed convinced as Hua Cheng dodged several attacks, waiting until Hua Cheng finally struck back to take the closer quarters as an opportunity to try to properly subdue him.

Even with limited spiritual energy, Xie Lian was incredibly strong. Hua Cheng delighted in the way his god tried to grapple, grab, and pin. The way he succeeded.

It was only through a firm discipline and a quickly building joy for the clear thrill Xie Lian was experiencing that he managed to not just throw the match so his god could pin him.

Xie Lian’s touch was not the gentle thing they’d been exchanging these past few days. It was firm. It was sure.

It met him as an equal.

As Hua Cheng was falling only more in love by the time Xie Lian finally got him, his laugh startling Hua Cheng enough to break the equilibrium of their back and forth and properly hold him down.

“You’re good,” Xie Lian smiled, his hair caught behind Hua Cheng and forcing them close.

“Gege’s quite impressive himself.”

Xie Lian shook his head, flopping down completely on Hua Cheng like a pillow. “That was nice. We should do that more often.”

“Any time your highness wishes.”

“You’re too generous, San Lang.”

“Your highness knows that’s not my reputation,” he teased.

“No,” Xie Lian sounded almost fond acknowledging it. “It’s not.”

When Xie Lian fell asleep on him this time, Hua Cheng left him as he was, content to lay beneath him for hours and then bluff that it had only been a few minutes when Xie Lian woke up apologetic later.

It was worth it to see his god well rested.

Chapter Text

There was a certain trend that developed.

They had their day. Xie Lian fell asleep on his shoulder and was gently put to bed. After a few hours he walked out to the practice room and acted as though it was completely normal for Hua Cheng to fall into step with him halfway there.

They’d chat about what weapons they wanted to use today and never mention the fact this was only possible because both of them were not sleeping.

Until eventually Xie Lian would fall asleep on top of him.

And they would not talk about that either besides Xie Lian’s thanks before their day started again.

It was very easy to be like this with Xie Lian. He found the man well practiced in politely skirting around things he did not want to talk about, which Hua Cheng found lucky as he also did not wish to talk about certain things that Xie Lian politely left alone.

Xie Lian had never questioned him on why he had been snooping in his mind to begin with.

Xie Lian never questioned him on how much he knew about him, the additional nickname of ‘your highness’ a now completely normal occurrence for them, though ‘gege’ was still the default.

Xie Lian never questioned why Hua Cheng spent nearly every day simply passing time with him.

It was simply silently agreed they did not need to rock the boat with such questions.

However, that didn’t stop them from wandering everywhere, both in and out of Ghost City.

So perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised him to find Xie Lian turning them towards the section of Ghost City Hua Cheng had usually had them subtly avoid.

“We’ve never gone this way before.”

“No,” Hua Cheng agreed.

“Not many stalls, is it a dead end?”

“Just one of my properties.” Which was the truth.

“Another residence?” Xie Lian asked, clearly catching sight of it now.

Hua Cheng shook his head, watching as Xie Lian began to read the temple name etched into the path.

“A temple… I didn’t expect San Lang to worship any gods.” Xie Lian grinned at him. “Let me guess, you only acknowledge one?”

Hua Cheng’s heart fluttered but he smiled back, doing his best to look at ease. “That’s right.”

He wasn’t sure if he hadn’t succeeded or had succeeded too well, but Xie Lian started as if he had been surprised by the answer.

Quickly Xie Lian looked away, speeding up as he headed towards Qiandeng Temple. “There’s no establishment plaque,” he commented, possibly to move the conversation away from his previous comment or possibly just because it surprised him enough to catch his attention.

“It can’t be helped. There’s not really anyone here who can write.”

“San Lang can write.”

Hua Cheng raised a brow, waiting until Xie Lian looked back at him in momentary confusion for his lack of response and promptly cleared his throat at the expression.

“You can, you just have a particular style to it.”

“Demonic?”

“It could be called that. It’s certainly full of personality. Besides, it’s not as though San Lang doesn’t write. You did the plaques for the Gambler’s Den and your tattoo didn’t you?”

Hua Cheng usually tried to keep it covered, but he knew Xie Lian had caught sight of it a few times during sparring. “Can gege read either of them?”

“I can read the Gambler’s Den,” Xie Lian insisted. “I haven’t gotten a good enough look at the tattoo to know for sure.”

“Surely it would be disrespectful to make an establishment plaque for my god’s temple with my shitty calligraphy. I can’t even get gege to acknowledge me as a student,” he sighed dramatically. He didn’t particularly mind that his calligraphy was bad, the only person who could’ve possibly made him feel bad about it was trying to bluff its illegibility was part of its charm after all.

“If this god is good enough to catch San Lang’s eye I’m sure they’re good enough to appreciate your best effort.”

Hua Cheng was inclined to agree considering the god himself was saying so, but he still sighed again as if terribly troubled. “What if he can’t read the plaque?”

“San Lang’s writing really isn’t that bad,” Xie Lian lied, looking around the sparsely decorated temple as he walked in. “There’s no cushions. Does San Lang not pray?”

“I do,” Hua Cheng walked past him to light the incense on the altar, quietly taking up a prayer of thanks.

“No idols either.”

“He wouldn’t like either of them.”

“Really? That’s a bit odd.”

“Would gege feel differently?”

“Oh no, I agree it’s best like this, it’s just not very traditional.”

“Who cares about tradition? There’s only one god I believe in, so if he thinks this way of worship is best than there’s only one tradition that matters.”

Xie Lian smiled. “San Lang knows I used to be a god, right?”

“Your highness still is a god.”

Xie Lian shot him an amused look. “I’m banished.”

“The Emperor can decide who he lets stay in Heaven, but fate is the one who acknowledged your highness’ claim to godhood. Twice. Who is he to say differently?”

Xie Lian laughed at that, waving it off. “I only meant to say I used to forbid my worshippers from kneeling too. Not many listened. Does your god have better luck?”

“No.” How could he when he was the same?

Xie Lian’s smile seemed a bit distant as he looked back to the incense. “He’s very lucky to have a worshipper like you then.”

“Even though I’ve built him a temple in such a place?”

“Ghost City?”

“En.”

“You dedicated a whole section of the territory you built up by yourself to your god. How could he possibly be anything but flattered?”

Hua Cheng smiled. “Since gege is so wise will he help me draft an establishment plaque?”

Xie Lian pulled over the inkwells and papers. “I suppose we have been neglecting your lessons. I don’t suppose you’ve been practicing on your own?”

“I’ve been practicing on my own for six hundred years, gege, that’s how I got such a unique style.”

Xie Lian nodded. “Right. It might be best for San Lang to stick to supervised lessons.”

Hua Cheng laughed. “What does gege suggest first?”

He had not expected to show Xie Lian the temple. Did not mean to imply he had any other in his heart.

But in the nature of not discussing things that could cause complications, Hua Cheng really found this solution to have worked out quite nicely.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng sat on the hill they had decided on moon watching from tonight, just outside of Ghost City, softly singing the song his mother had once taught him.

Xie Lian seemed to like it, having heard it enough times to sing snatches of the piece with him, although he still didn’t know what the words meant.

As his song came to an end, Hua Cheng let the quiet night take over the task of silence filling, the two of them bathed in the noise of animals living around them. That had never been a sound in Xie Lian’s meditations and of course it wasn’t one they really heard in Paradise Manor either.

Xie Lian seemed to like it. Like proof of reality or maybe just one of the many small joys he celebrated. That made it more precious to Hua Cheng.

“San Lang?” He said after nearly two songs worth of silence.

“Yes, gege?”

“Do you really only have room for one of everything in your heart?”

Hua Cheng smiled. “En.”

“One song and one poem and one favorite food?”

“I don’t have a favorite food.”

“You don’t?” Xie Lian seemed surprised at that, looking over at him.

Hua Cheng shook his head, expression sly. “Unless food shared with gege counts as a type of food.”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian snickered. “You know it doesn’t.”

“Then I don’t have one.”

“I see. I suppose that makes sense. You don’t seem to have a favorite outfit either, you wear lots of different things. I guess you don’t need favorites of everything.”

Hua Cheng nodded, silence returning for a bit as Xie Lian seemed to think more.

“But San Lang only has room for one person in his heart.”

“That’s right.”

“And only one god.”

“En.”

“Isn’t a god a person too?”

“They are.”

They both stared at the moon as they spoke.

“So then wouldn’t San Lang have two people in his heart? His beloved and his god?”

“No,” Hua Cheng buzzed with nerves, but knew they wouldn’t show. “There’s only the one.”

“I see.” Xie Lian’s hands clenched on his lap, then relaxed, gaze a bit distant.

“Was that all gege wanted to know?”

“Yes, I suppose it was.” Another beat of silence, then: “Your favorite poem is because of your beloved, isn’t it?”

“That’s right,” Hua Cheng was extremely glad they weren’t looking at each other, although Xie Lian’s shoulder burned hot against his own.

“The song?”

Hua Cheng shook his head. “The song is for my mother.”

Xie Lian seemed to ease a bit of tension at that for some reason.

“But it’s hard for things not to relate to him truthfully. If I hadn’t met him, if he hadn’t saved me, I wouldn’t have the chance to remember my mother like this. I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to reconnect with what I could and truthfully I don’t think I would’ve had the energy to care to. So in a way I suppose that makes the song for him too.”

“I see.” Xie Lian picked at his robes, gaze still upturned towards that waxing moon. “But you aren’t with them.”

Hua Cheng shook his head.

“Because you haven’t told them, right? If you told them I’m sure they’d say yes.” Xie Lian paused, unaware of the way Hua Cheng’s chest fluttered at such a sure proclamation. “Do you not know where they are?”

Hua Cheng kept his gaze on the sky. Of course Xie Lian would see the clear message of having such a grief filled poem relate to his god and beloved. However, while that may have been true until recently: “I do.”

“Oh. But you still haven’t confessed?”

“I haven’t. I’m not sure I can.”

“Why can’t you? Surely if you really offered there’s no one who would say no. I can’t imagine San Lang likes someone small minded enough to think he’s bad just because he’s a ghost. You’re a very talented Ghost King, it should be respected.”

Hua Cheng laughed, though it didn’t feel funny. “He wouldn’t mind something like that, but it’s not as though being a Ghost King is anything impressive.”

“San Lang, you’re quite powerful! You’ve defeated martial and civil gods! You’ve built a whole territory!” He still did not look over at Hua Cheng as he spoke.

Hua Cheng did not look over either. “That’s nothing impressive, the gods I’ve fought haven’t been worth much and neither is the territory. Besides, that person saw me at my worst. It’s not as though I can hide how useless I’ve been in the past.”

“How lucky,” Xie Lian murmured.

Hua Cheng did turn to look at him at that, confused.

Xie Lian caught sight of his gaze, clearing his throat. “I only meant…I…admire San Lang very much, so I want to understand your everything. So, I thought that someone who has already met that kind of you must be very lucky. But I can understand… how it might be difficult to know they’ve seen such a thing.

“There was also a period of time in my life that wasn’t easy— more difficult than where San Lang found me— and during that time, I’d constantly think: if someone should witness the version of me who rolled in dirt and couldn’t get up, but could still love me for who I was, it’d be great. Still, I don’t know if there’s anyone like that, and I daren’t show that part of my past to anyone, either.

“But to me, the one basking in infinite glory is you; the one fallen from grace is also you. What matters is you, and not the state of you. Whatever form San Lang takes, however ‘useless’ he may have been, to witness it could only help know you better.

“To be there when San Lang was at his worst… to not simply hear about the past but share it and understand, it’s an affinity that only comes by chance, and couldn’t be begged for. Whether that bond should continue, it’s three parts fate, and seven parts courage! So San Lang’s beloved, I thought they must be quite lucky…”

He trailed off, seeming a bit subdued. “Have I said too much?”

Hua Cheng shook his head, throat tight and chest full. “No. What you said was very good. Very right.”

After all, wasn’t that the way Hua Cheng felt about Xie Lian? That every chance he’d had to be in his life was a gift? That even when Xie Lian had hit rock bottom, it had only reaffirmed his decision to follow such a god? The fact that Hua Cheng had not been able to help more was a waste of the good fortune of the opportunity, but still, the fact he was there at all was precious to him. The fact that he knew multiple sides of Xie Lian and was still learning more was very precious indeed.

And perhaps a braver— or stupider— man would have confessed.

Because Xie Lian liked him, Hua Cheng knew that was true. Xie Lian thought quite highly of him and even if he processed the Hua Cheng of now was the same as that dirty boy he’d once saved, the same as that useless ghost fire he’d rescued, the same as that foolish general he’d taken— Xie Lian wouldn’t have hated him for that, he knew.

Even without Xie Lian’s speech he had known really. After all, Xie Lian leaned into him like a flower to the sun. Xie Lian fell asleep on top of him like it was the only place he could feel safe. His gaze caught on Hua Cheng when he dressed up or just when Xie Lian thought he wasn’t being observed.

But Xie Lian did not understand the depths of Hua Cheng’s love and how heavy it could be. His devotion was not meant to be a heavy thing. It was meant to be a comfort, an aid. Hua Cheng would not have his obsession turn burdensome for his god.

Besides, he was not subtle about his favor towards Xie Lian. If his god would not reach out for his obvious devotion, perhaps it was important for Xie Lian in some way that he have this layer of plausible deniability, even if he felt affection towards Hua Cheng. Perhaps Xie Lian was not ready for such a thing like romantic love or even worshippers again. If what he needed from Hua Cheng was simply companionship, he would not break this peace with his feelings.

So he added, “It’s not just that. But there’s also many other reasons not to speak up.”

Xie Lian made a noise of understanding, trailing off and looking down the hill into the darkness.

The silence this time was delicate, a careful thing made by this layer of distance they’d both created from the matter.

And Xie Lian was, he realized, jealous. It was… difficult to say so confidently, but Xie Lian’s shoulders were tense and eyes were dazed in such a way that seemed quite complicated with emotion and slight hurt.

Hua Cheng did not want his god so adamant in refusing to see Hua Cheng’s feelings that he upset himself over them, that wasn’t any better than forcing him to acknowledge them. So, pulling out the gift he’d been meaning to find the right way to give since Xie Lian had arrived, Hua Cheng caught his eye.

“Can I give you a present?”

“A present?” Xie Lian seemed thrown off by the sudden change in topic.

“En. Just a small thing.”

“San Lang doesn’t need to give me a present.”

“I want to.” He opened his hand, showing Xie Lian the crystal clear ring on a chain. His ashes.

And in the interest of plausible deniability, he did not call them that.

“It’s beautiful,” Xie Lian reached out to trace it, gentle in his touch.

“Can I put it on you?”

Xie Lian’s smile was back, though it was beginning to tire. He’d fall asleep soon. For the first time anyways. “I’d like that.”

Hua Cheng helped move his hair out of the way as he fastened his ashes around Xie Lian’s neck, finally where they were meant to be. Finally safe and secure as they fell to rest on Xie Lian’s chest.

“I’ll take good care of it.”

“Gege doesn’t have to. It’s just a trinket.”

Xie Lian smiled and shook his head, resting closer to Hua Cheng as they went back to staring at the moon without the tension to them.

It was alright like this. For as long as his god needed, Hua Cheng would not ask for more.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng had been giving Xie Lian spiritual energy since he’d woken up. Casual passes over occasionally when they touched hands. Xie Lian didn’t really go through very much, so it seemed to last him a good while and startle him to have even what Hua Cheng considered a small amount, but he hadn’t been asked to stop so he made a point of passing over more every week or so.

“Come to think of it,” Xie Lian said suddenly, looking down at where their hands were joined. “San Lang did that without touching me didn’t he.”

Hua Cheng furrowed his brow in confusion before remembering. “Gege means when I joined his meditations? En. I could pull on your cultivation like that, it was easy to just pass some of my energy.”

“Is that what you were doing? Some sort of dual cultivation?”

“That’s not what dual cultivation is,” Hua Cheng grinned. “Gege would know if we dual cultivated.”

Xie Lian’s cheeks heated. “What’s it called then?”

“Partnered cultivation.”

“Ah,” recognition swept away Xie Lian’s blush. “I’ve heard of that actually. There used to be a problem with naive cultivators being targeted by parasitic spirits.” He looked consideringly at Hua Cheng, though there wasn’t any judgment. “I wouldn’t have expected that to be the type of cultivation San Lang practiced with how skilled you are.”

Hua Cheng shook his head. “I usually don’t. I was trying something new. I’d only just learned about it a bit before I met gege.”

Xie Lian did not ask why Hua Cheng chose to target him when he had had no cultivation to sap.

“Could we try it again? With normal meditation?”

“Of course,” Hua Cheng began to reroute them towards Qiandeng Temple, Xie Lian’s hand still warm in his own.

It took very little for the two of them to settle in, Xie Lian falling into proper meditation, not a crafted distraction this time.

And Hua Cheng felt his skin prickle with anticipation as he slipped into Xie Lian’s meditation.

It was different without an illusion to slip into. Xie Lian’s normal meditations didn’t craft false worlds, so instead Hua Cheng could simply focus on the way their energy slowly oozed together, like Hua Cheng dispersing himself within Xie Lian, too much like air to have a form, too much feeling to really be air.

It was the feeling of a lover’s fingertips tracing out over your palm and fingers until they could press your hands flat together.

The feeling of dye seeping out into water, slowly seeming to overtake it yet in reality simply luxuriating in it.

Hua Cheng tried to push a bit of spiritual energy through like this, vaguely aware of the way Xie Lian’s breath caught next to him, but their joined meditation remained.

Parasites must have done this quietly. Gentle in their taking to not arouse suspicions. But Xie Lian knew he was here so Hua Cheng had no reason to tread sneakily. Instead he let himself wash over Xie Lian until there was no him, and there was no self, there was only this endless calm and distance Xie Lian had led them to.

The shared world had had a certain peace to it, but this was calm in a genuine way. He could feel, abstractly without really understanding them, thoughts float through Xie Lian’s mind, easily given up and let float on their way. Not distracting. Just a natural part of the process of clearing your head.

If Hua Cheng could breathe, their breathing surely would have found one joined rhythm. If Hua Cheng’s heart beat, it surely would have followed the pace Xie Lian’s was setting.

Easy and steady, Hua Cheng seeped through the cracks that Xie Lian made for him and let them be one.

It couldn’t be said how long they stayed like that before Xie Lian gently nudged Hua Cheng out, not an outright rejection of the intruder like he surely could’ve done, but a careful tap before the meditation ended and Hua Cheng opened his eyes with his god.

Xie Lian stretched, smiling over at Hua Cheng. “I didn’t expect you to give me more spiritual energy for that, you know.”

“I have no idea what gege means. You must have cultivated that yourself.”

“San Lang. You know I can’t access my cultivation.”

“It must be a miracle then.”

Xie Lian laughed, leaning into him. “I’m sure it was. What good fortune I had to meet you, it couldn’t have been anything less than a miracle.”

Their hands had found their way to each other. It happened often truthfully. Hua Cheng reached out greedily only to find Xie Lian already reaching back almost every time.

“Gege, you’re teasing me.”

“No, I’m serious. No parasite could be as generous as the one who found me. Does San Lang just go around barging into useless cultivator’s meditation and giving them spiritual energy for fun?”

“I think gege knows the answer without me having to say.”

Xie Lian’s thumb caressed Hua Cheng’s hand in what was probably a thoughtless action, but it had Hua Cheng’s head spinning.

“We can do it more often if gege would like.”

“I don’t need more spiritual energy, San Lang.”

“I don’t have to pass anything through.” It felt terribly selfish to offer this so casually. To act as though this was something easy to offer or be refused when the act of melting into his god was a decadence beyond his ability to explain even for all his way with words and knowledge of poetry.

“Maybe.”

“What does it feel like for you?”

Xie Lian hummed. “It’s hard to describe. Have you ever been covered in mud?”

“Yes.”

“And then gotten submerged in the water but the mud is still sort of on you?”

Hua Cheng couldn’t honestly say he remember such a circumstance with the clarity Xie Lian seemed to, but he understood the picture enough to nod.

“It’s sort of like that but I’m not just myself but also the water.”

“Is it unpleasant?”

“No I wouldn’t say that. It’s more that I can tell there’s something in and around me that doesn’t necessarily belong there. It’s soothing though. I know it’s you.”

Hua Cheng squeezed his hand gently, smiling as Xie Lian squeezed back.

“I think I would like to do that more often. If you really won’t try to sneak me spiritual energy while we do.” His voice turned teasing for the last part.

“I would never,” he blatantly lied.

Xie Lian didn’t call him out on it this time though, just smiled and stared out at the magnificence of the mostly empty temple.

Hua Cheng was content to stay like that with him for a long while, their shared peace joining them in a different way from their partnered meditation.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian was, for the most part, fairly normal in his behavior now. He had readjusted to talking to others and keeping his hands to himself, though Hua Cheng never would’ve stopped him if he’d decided to keep up the oddness. It wasn’t as though anyone in Ghost City could do anything to stop him, even without Hua Cheng’s backing.

He no longer held food in his mouth for several minutes like it was just going to melt nor did he seem quite so straightforward in his approach to leaving buildings or getting the things he wanted.

He still wasn’t quite sleeping through the night, but the system they’d developed with midnight sparring allowed for it to be regular at least.

The one thing that seemed to linger was his affection with Hua Cheng.

He hadn’t ever grabbed Hua Cheng’s hands and rubbed himself against them since that first time, but their touch was nearly constant.

Hands to hands. Hands to waist. Arms brushing. Hips bumping. Thighs resting together. Knees tapping. They drifted towards each other in every given situation, and there were very few situations where they had any reason not to.

Still, those times did come occasionally.

Stupid guests had to be handled and Xie Lian had agreed to stay behind, saying he had to prepare Hua Cheng calligraphy practice anyways. And so Hua Cheng had left him for the better part of the morning, only able to return when the annoying trash had been handled.

He hadn’t been prepared for the sight when he returned.

Xie Lian’s eyes were cast down onto the paper he was preparing, his free hand holding up Hua Cheng’s ashes to keep them pressed to his lips.

At first Hua Cheng thought it was fully in his mouth, brain going fuzzy at the thought, but his gaze focused enough for him to realize that wasn’t quite it. He was… mouthing at them. Kissing them.

Gaze locked on the sight of those lips tenderly and repeatedly brushing his ashes, Hua Cheng took a step forward, finally catching Xie Lian’s attention.

Xie Lian was breathtaking as he looked up, smiling at Hua Cheng before going red and dropping the ashes quickly, letting them fall back over his chest. “Ah, welcome back!”

“I see gege missed me. Or were you just hungry?” Hua Cheng teased, coming over to sit beside him.

“I wasn’t eating it.”

“Oh? I must not have seen correctly. Won’t gege show me?”

The blush didn’t fade.

“If gege doesn’t want to use the ring again, he could always demonstrate on me,” Hua Cheng teased, earning a very mortified looking Xie Lian.

“San Lang, don’t tease.”

“I would never.”

Xie Lian clearly wasn’t convinced, especially not when Hua Cheng tapped the ashes.

“Was there a reason gege loves his gift so much though?”

Xie Lian’s thigh pressed against his. Warm.

“It’s time for calligraphy practice,” he insisted instead of answering, clearing his throat.

“Your highness,” Hua Cheng smiled. “If there’s something you desire, you know I’d make sure you had it.”

Xie Lian sighed, looking quite bullied and a bit tired. “It’s just that I’m not used to San Lang being where I can’t see him.”

And that was not what Hua Cheng had expected. He had assumed it was a lingering desire for certain textures or sensations against his mouth or, at his most shameless and greedy, a product of Xie Lian daydreaming about kissing him.

“Are you worried I won’t come back?”

Xie Lian twisted the chain around his neck. “Not exactly. You always came back during meditations and you live here. It’s not anything that makes sense, San Lang doesn’t have to worry.”

Hua Cheng rested a hand on Xie Lian’s knee. “Worries don’t have to make sense.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s not as if there’s anything to be done over something silly like this. It’ll go away on its own. A bit of irrational thinking isn’t anything San Lang should feel responsible for.”

“What if I have the same thoughts?”

Xie Lian tilted his head at him. “I haven’t gone anywhere though.”

“Does gege think he’s the only one allowed to have irrational worries?” Although with how long Hua Cheng had searched, he wasn’t honestly sure how irrational it really was.

“No. I suppose not.”

Hua Cheng stared at his hand on Xie Lian’s knee, bright red thread still tied around the finger he’d once worn a small lock of his god’s hair, a plan brewing.

It was stupid. Shameless and greedy and showed his hand entirely too much.

“What if gege had a way to find me when we were apart?”

“Like your communication array password?”

Hua Cheng snapped out of his fantasies. “Ah. Yes, gege can have that.” He gave it over easily, amusement building once more at Xie Lian’s shock over such a password.

“I’m not sure I’ll use it much,” Xie Lian admitted.

Hua Cheng snickered. “What’s gege’s I can use yours instead.”

“Just recite the Ethics Sutra a thousand times.”

Hua Cheng tried not to laugh. He really did love this man so much.

Just as he suspected, he found his way into the array a moment later. “It’s the phrase, just recite the Ethics Sutra a thousand times, is that right?”

Xie Lian smiled at him, speaking back through the array even though they were the only ones in the room. “It is, I can’t believe you weren’t fooled.”

Hua Cheng could just imagine how many gods had been tricked by such a password during Xie Lian’s first ascension. He was really too clever and Hua Cheng didn’t hide his laugh into the array this time. Apparently he wasn’t the only one between them who had designed a password specifically to mess with others. “I almost was. It’s too good.”

Xie Lian shook his head, but was clearly pleased. “What was San Lang’s actual idea? You didn’t seem to have been thinking that when I said it.”

Hua Cheng held out a hand, finding Xie Lian putting his own into his before he even had to ask. There was nothing but trust in his eyes as he watched Hua Cheng tie a string around his finger.

Hua Cheng did not even have to explain to have his god willing to go along with it. It wasn’t just acceptance that whatever would happen would happen. Xie Lian’s gaze was too fond and unguarded for that. Xie Lian simply believed Hua Cheng would act in Xie Lian’s best interest.

He would. It’s all he had ever wanted to do.

It felt unreal to do this. Presumptuous in a way, but Xie Lian had yet to dislike any presumption of familiarity Hua Cheng took with him so perhaps…

He let his touch linger just a moment longer before he let go. “Now we’re joined together.

“It matches yours,” Xie Lian smiled, face heating as he admired the string. Truly admired it. “Is it some sort of spell?”

“En. It will always lead us back to each other. So if something goes wrong and your highness can’t reach me, you can always find me, and at least while the string is attached you’ll know I’m still around.”

“While the string is attached?”

“It’ll only break if one of us is dead or dissipated.”

Xie Lian held his hand close, as if it were precious, staring at the thread on Hua Cheng’s finger with bright eyes. “I see.”

He looked unbelievably pleased, stars in his eyes at the prospect of having this connection between them. It was the miracle Hua Cheng kept discovering. Xie Lian adored any opportunity to grow closer as much as he did.

There was bliss in this companionship. In having more than they’d thought possible. Hua Cheng thought his god should’ve had his pick of companions. Should’ve been filled with love and attention by all. But he knew that was not the reality Xie Lian had lived with.

And for whatever reason, because knew it wasn’t entirely just loneliness, Xie Lian had picked Hua Cheng to be his companion. For whatever reason, Xie Lian seemed to think it was Hua Cheng doing him the honor by picking him.

It was silly perhaps. But it was warm and reassuring, this physical thread to bind them and lead them back to this one miraculous companion they had found. Fate had brought them together once, and neither of them intended to let the chance slip by.

For a few moments, they both simply basked in that knowledge.

But then Xie Lian seemed to shake himself out of it, sitting forward. “Ah. Now that that’s settled San Lang has calligraphy to practice.”

“But gege I worked so hard all morning,” he sighed dramatically, just to see Xie Lian smile at him.

“And because San Lang is so talented I’m sure he can persevere and work even harder this afternoon.”

“The Guoshi Fangxin really is a strict teacher,” Hua Cheng sighed again as he picked up the brush, holding back a smile as Xie Lian gently fixed his hand position.

“I’m sure San Lang can handle it.”

“For gege I can handle anything. I would battle the heavens for you.”

Xie Lian led him through the strokes, red thread hanging between them and such fond bliss on Xie Lian’s face. “Just calligraphy will do fine for today. Maybe tomorrow San Lang can battle the heavens for me.”

Hua Cheng snickered, but obeyed, doing a vague approximation of his best and letting himself be taught by his god.

Truly an honor like no other.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian stretched as he came out of their partnered meditation. “San Lang passed me energy again.”

“I don’t know what gege means,” Hua Cheng said with his most innocent expression.

He knew very well what Xie Lian meant of course. The two of them had passed spiritual energy back and forth the entire session like the tide against the shore, the balance ebbing and flowing between them as Xie Lian demurred from receiving it and Hua Cheng gently offered it back.

If he thought the offers actually made Xie Lian uncomfortable he would’ve stopped long ago. However, when it came to meditation sessions especially, he got the impression Xie Lian just liked the game of who could pass it over quicker. The way it lit something within them and drew them closer, like smoke spiraling up around each other.

Xie Lian’s smile made him quite sure he was right. His yawn made Hua Cheng’s heart warm.

“Should we call it a night early?” He knew Xie Lian usually liked to fall asleep chatting, but they’d had a fairly active day with Xie Lian teaching him how to scrap pick in a “nearby” town turning into a bit of a surprise extermination of a small pest. It would make sense if he was tired.

Xie Lian paused, as if thinking about this. “San Lang is already being quite a gracious host and I wouldn’t want to overstep, but I was hoping San Lang would stay in my room tonight. Or I could stay in yours?”

Hua Cheng’s gaze caught on the red thread Xie Lian seemed to be poking at still around his finger, fondness overwhelming. “Of course. Gege could never overstep.”

It was all too easy to end up in Xie Lian’s room, stripping their outer layers and settling under the blankets together. There was no shyness in this much. And Xie Lian looked so radiant, soft and content with exhaustion.

So it was hard to say which of them had reached out first, but it didn’t truly matter. All that mattered way Xie Lian curled up in his arms, falling asleep to the feeling of Hua Cheng’s hands running through his hair.

Hua Cheng didn’t last much longer.

***

Hua Cheng only woke when morning came, Xie Lian still snuggled into him.

Had he not woken up in the middle of the night because of how long the day before had been? Or because Hua Cheng had been here? Had he woken in the middle of the night but not wanted to be a bother?

Such thoughts ran through Hua Cheng’s head, but much more crucial was the one that simply marveled over the fact Xie Lian was here. Had asked him to be here with him.

For better or worse, he didn’t have too long to marvel before his god began to wake up.

“Good morning San Lang. Did you sleep well?”

“En. What about gege?”

“Very well. Thank you for staying.”

“Of course, gege. Did it help you sleep through the night?”

“Not really, but it was easier to go back to sleep. I thought I woke you up honestly.”

Hua Cheng shook his head. “Did I try to keep you in bed?”

“I didn’t try to leave, I just sat up a bit. I was…” Xie Lian cleared his throat, “When I had been up for awhile you seemed to notice I wasn’t in your arms anymore and told me to come back and warm you up. I hadn’t been sure whether or not you were awake.”

Hua Cheng didn’t remember such a situation at all. “Gege was just sitting up in bed? You could have woken me up.”

“No need,” Xie Lian avoided his eye. “I was just looking around a bit.”

Hua Cheng sat up, amusement growing as he guessed what had Xie Lian acting so coy. “Gege this is your room, I’m sure you’re familiar with it by now. Unless there was something new in it last night?”

“Anyways I was plenty entertained, there was no need to wake you.”

“I understand. If gege woke me he couldn’t have enjoyed the view without being seen himself. Shall I go back to bed and let you observe a bit more?”

“I can observe San Lang fine when he’s awake.”

“So gege admits he was looking at me?” He grinned.

Xie Lian hid his face. “San Lang!”

“There’s no need to be shy. Look as much as you’d like. I even take requests.”

Xie Lian flopped back into his arms, unaware of the way Hua Cheng’s love did frantic figure eights in his chest at such a hiding spot.

“Did I tease too much?”

“You’re so insincere.”

“Gege once said I was handsome, cute, and sincere. Now you’re taking it back? Am I at least still handsome and cute?”

“You know before I met you I didn’t think I could get embarrassed anymore?” Xie Lian accused, almost petulant.

“Gege never needs to feel embarrassed around me.”

Xie Lian burst out laughing, their fingers beginning to tangle together. “San Lang. What am I going to do with you?”

“Stare at me I thought.”

Xie Lian nuzzled into the crook of his neck, face warm against Hua Cheng’s skin and breath gentle. “Don’t be a bully.”

“If gege doesn’t want to stare at me he could also keep holding me like this or spar with me or cultivate with me again.”

“Or perhaps I could teach San Lang more calligraphy.”

“Gege, you say it like it’s a threat.”

“San Lang certainly acts like I’m asking a great hardship of him when we practice.”

“But to be taught by your highness is an honor.”

Xie Lian pulled back. “In that case, San Lang can have the honor of practicing all day today.”

“Now gege’s just being cruel.”

“Haven’t you said it before? I'm the cruel Guoshi Fangxin.”

Hua Cheng couldn’t help but smile at him. “Yes, but I’ve seen you teach. You weren’t that cruel.”

“You saw me in a false world.”

“Did you act differently?”

“A bit. I was much less attentive with San Lang around than I really was when he was that young.”

Hua Cheng’s thumb traced his spine through his robes. He considered, as he had when he’d first brought Xie Lian home, how very undeserving Lang Qianqiu was. How very much Hua Cheng wanted to make him pay. He had the feeling Xie Lian didn’t share this sentiment.

“He’s a god now, you know.”

Xie Lian smiled at that. Clearly proud. Ah. Revenge would do no good for his god here then. “I'm glad. How old was he?”

“Mid-twenties.”

Xie Lian seemed even more pleased. “Good. Still young, but at least not too young. A few more years would’ve been good, but I’m sure he did well with that.”

Hua Cheng had suspected Xie Lian had not actually been behind the Gilded Massacre. He had suspected he had more let himself be made the scapegoat for some time now. But what he still didn’t know was this:

“Why did you come back for him to find you?”

Xie Lian gave him a sad smile. “It was important that he felt he got closure on that. He would’ve kept chasing me for his family’s honor. It was better this way.”

“You weren’t with the Xianle rebels.”

It wasn’t really a question but Xie Lian shook his head. “Did another rebellion happen after I left?”

Left. As if being stuck in a coffin was just leaving the scene.

“No. Yong’an was peaceful under Lang Qianqiu’s guidance and appointed heir, even with the unrest over the royal family dying.”

“Good. Then it was worth it.”

Hua Cheng disagreed. It must have shown on his face because Xie Lian squeezed his hand.

“After all, it protected the citizens and helped me meet you.”

And Hua Cheng still disagreed, but really. What could he say to that?

“Now,” Xie Lian stepped out of his embrace and out of bed. “We should get started on San Lang’s calligraphy lesson as soon as possible if we want to make any headway. There’s still a lot to practice.”

Chapter Text

It had been a week since Xie Lian had begun asking him to stay the night. After the second day, Xie Lian didn’t even ask, simply trusting that Hua Cheng would follow when he went through the motions to sleep.

He was right of course. Hua Cheng would've done a great deal of things for his god. Going to bed with him every night was a gift, even if it interrupted their previous schedule of night sparring. Such a thing could be done at any time.

Hua Cheng had, after careful positioning of butterflies, finally managed to understand what exactly Xie Lian really did when he woke up. It had mostly been a test to see if perhaps he should be waking with Xie Lian to keep him company. He knew his god was prone to handling more than he had to, and while it was clear he was getting more comfortable asking for things, it wasn’t clear where the line was for him.

For the sake of his dead heart, he didn’t record more than the one night of Xie Lian stirring. Of him pulling back to trace Hua Cheng’s features with his eyes. Of the way he carefully reached out to brush back his hair.

He really was just looking. Looking at Hua Cheng like he was something wonderful to look at.

And then he’d settled back in, close and safely tucked in each other’s arms and drift back off.

He had intended to tease Xie Lian with whatever he saw, but he couldn’t bear to after actually processing it. Not when it was so soft. So loving.

So instead they went about their days, this one making their way to Qiandeng Temple.

“You really should have an establishment plaque,” Xie Lian said as they walked up the steps. “I’m sure San Lang’s god wouldn’t mind that he’s still learning calligraphy as long as it comes from the heart.”

“I’m just still not sure what would be good idea.”

“Try something simple. What about his name?”

Hua Cheng went to the paper and brushes kept in the temple, preparing himself as best he could before he began.

His Highness the Crown Prince of Xianle

Flower Crowned Martial God

Xie Lian

Setting down his brush, he stepped back for Xie Lian to check over his work.

Xie Lian couldn’t always read his writing. From what Hua Cheng understood, usually he just was catching bits of it and then making educated guesses about the parts he couldn’t read from there. There was a chance Xie Lian would not be able to parse this.

There was also a chance he would.

Xie Lian looked over it, pointing to his name. “This is what San Lang has tattooed.”

“En.”

He wasn’t sure if it was disappointment or relief that swept through him at the realization Xie Lian couldn’t read it. That was not how he had expected Xie Lian to recognize it. Xie Lian had had a few opportunities to see the tattoo, but not to really observe it, unless he was rolling up Hua Cheng’s sleeves in his sleep to completely bear it.

“San Lang really is devoted. Can I see it?”

Hua Cheng rolled up his sleeve, letting Xie Lian get a proper look at his arm for once. Letting Xie Lian caress the skin lightly.

“Was it done when you were young?”

Hua Cheng nodded, not sure if his voice could hold up to the look in Xie Lian’s eye so full of tenderness.

And then Xie Lian paused and Hua Cheng felt his stomach drop.

Mouth twisted thoughtfully, Xie Lian traced out the characters once. Twice.

His breath caught.

Hua Cheng closed his eyes, willing his hands not to shake.

“Xie Lian,” he said out loud, finally reading them for what they were.

Hua Cheng kept his eyes closed.

He had known when he wrote out Xie Lian’s titles and names it was a stupid idea.

He’d already admitted to caring for only one god.

Already admitted that his god and his beloved were one and the same.

Something like this… there was really nothing he could hide behind here without telling elaborate lies he had no desire to make or keep.

Xie Lian’s hands drew back. “San Lang. Won’t you look at me?”

“Your highness needn’t feel anything has to change. You can pretend you couldn’t read it.”

“I don’t want to pretend.”

Hua Cheng swallowed.

“San Lang said once that his beloved had seen him at his worst. I don’t remember it. Could you jog my memory?”

He knew Xie Lian was not needlessly cruel. He knew Xie Lian had said at the time he wanted to see such things. But he also could not bear the slightest chance of disgust over such a thing.

So he let a butterfly flutter out to rest on Xie Lian’s forehead, showing him his memories as best he could.

Being caught, dirty and damaged. Being helpless against the land of the tender. Being a useless little ghost fire. Being a foolish, naive ghost who could only take on his god’s burden too late.

Hua Cheng heard the way Xie Lian’s breath caught at the memories and braced himself, stiff and terrified.

Only to be nearly knocked over as Xie Lian hugged him.

“It’s you!”

Hua Cheng’s eyes opened to see Xie Lian nestled as close as he could be, hugging him as though he was precious and laughing as though he was on the verge of tears.

“San Lang!”

“Gege.” He didn’t need to breathe but he still felt breathless.

“San Lang,” he said the name like it was the only word he was capable of at the moment.

Hua Cheng couldn’t blame him for it, he hardly felt much better, head a pleasant buzz of relief and joy. “Gege you’re going to make me think I can get away with quite a lot if you keep saying my name like that. I’m a very greedy ghost, you know.”

Xie Lian laughed, pulling back to meet his eyes, his own shining. “When have I ever refused you?”

And so, drunk on love and the bliss of his beloved god’s smile, Hua Cheng leaned in to steal a kiss.

As he’d said, he was very greedy.

Xie Lian didn’t seem to mind, frozen for a moment before melting into his embrace.

It was fairly clear to Hua Cheng neither of them had much practical experience, but he’d read and fantasized and Xie Lian was soft and willing in his arms, sinking into the kiss and slowly being coaxed into a more active role, as if Hua Cheng was teaching him with every moment their lips spent locked. As if Xie Lian wanted nothing more than to learn the best ways to reciprocate.

His arms were stiff where they’d landed in the first hug, but with a bit of gentle caressing, Xie Lian loosened up enough to touch back, drawing him closer still as if he could just swallow Hua Cheng up.

Hua Cheng wouldn’t have been opposed to such a thing at all and had he had his mouth free, he might have said as much.

As it was, Hua Cheng’s mouth had much better things to do than tease at the moment.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng was lucky.

He was lucky because got to create a new family of two with his god.

He was lucky because he had surpassed the trials to be strong enough to stand usefully as his god’s equal.

He was lucky because when Xie Lian woke up, sleep soft and precious within his arms, his first order of the day was to smile at Hua Cheng and close his eyes again as a kiss was granted.

Hua Cheng was lucky, so he didn’t care that in life he’d been unlucky. After all, anything that led him to share a home and a bed with his beloved couldn’t be that unlucky. Who cared if it had taken so long? Hua Cheng was patient.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian asked within the sweet quiet of their bed. “Could we visit one of Lang Qianqiu’s temples?”

The only reason Hua Cheng would’ve visited one on his own was to burn it, but he knew Xie Lian did not want such a thing. Though in the false world Xie Lian had often pushed Lang Qianqiu away to some training to spend time with Hua Cheng, he had the impression this wasn’t how it had gone in reality, when Lang Qianqiu had truly been more than a figment of Xie Lian’s meditation. In spite of how it ended, Xie Lian seemed to treasure his time mentoring the child.

He hadn’t gotten to see the boy ascend. Hadn’t gotten to see his temples go up. And surely there was pride there, Hua Cheng had seen it the rare times they discussed Lang Qianqiu.

So of course he agreed and they dressed for the day. Of course he took Xie Lian to a temple of Tai Hua, watching the way Xie Lian’s eyes traced the decor with satisfaction and crinkled in mirth at the statue that looked nothing like the boy he’d taught.

He waited at Xie Lian’s side as his god kneeled in prayer. Because for all Hua Cheng may not believe Lang Qianqiu deserved it, he knew Xie Lian deserved the opportunity to say his piece in his own way. Closure of sorts on a chapter of his life he likely never would’ve gotten such peaceful closure on otherwise.

“He must have many temples, right?” Xie Lian asked as they left.

“En. That one is about standard for him.”

Xie Lian nodded. “It’s a shame.”

It was a setup, but Hua Cheng always took the bait. “What is?”

“As his teacher I want him to succeed. To reach beyond my own successes and create even more happiness for himself.” Xie Lian explained.

Hua Cheng nodded. He’d heard the sentiment before.

“But I fear it’s impossible now. Even banished I have the best temple and best worshipper. It’ll be difficult for him to top it.”

Hua Cheng laughed at that bit of mischief, taking up his own teasing. “Did gege bring me to the temple thinking he could give me away like an offering? It won’t work, I’m afraid I can’t be traded.”

“Oh no, I’m much too selfish to share San Lang. Lang Qianqiu should’ve found his own undying love if he wanted such a thing.”

Hua Cheng stole a kiss. Then another, adoring the way Xie Lian curled into him.

“Can we make one more stop?” Xie Lian broke their affection to ask eventually.

“We could make a hundred more.”

“Just one will do. My coffin?”

Hua Cheng’s stomach still twisted at the reminder of his god’s suffering. At his own failure. But Xie Lian was safe now and if that was what he wanted then that was what he would get.

And so, with a toss of his dice and a bit more walking, they found their way to the tomb of the Guoshi Fangxin.

Hua Cheng had hardly taken it in when they’d been there last. His memory was focused on his dead god. Little else about the place mattered at the time.

But now, with Xie Lian safe and living at his side, he could look around a bit more. Even if only to judge the place Xie Lian had been laid to ‘rest’ in.

Xie Lian was looking too. It struck Hua Cheng that he had probably never really taken it in either.

Not terribly big. Not terribly decorated. But it was fitting resting place for a Guoshi, all things considered.

Hua Cheng moved to pick up the mask Xie Lian had worn, still on the floor where it had dropped when Xie Lian broke free. He hadn’t thought to grab it the first time, with more pressing matters calling his attention.

“Would gege mind if I cleaned up a bit?”

Xie Lian smiled at him, a tender, amused thing. “I’d be very grateful if you did.”

Hua Cheng kissed his cheek before moving to clean up the blood and cobwebs that had been left. He could have done it with spiritual energy, but it felt too important, too private to do so casually.

He hadn’t been cleaning long when Xie Lian knelt down with him, helping to clear the grime from the coffin and the spot he’d fallen on the floor.

They worked in silence, cleaning up this awful place that had been a prison to Xie Lian for so long, and when they were done they gently set the mask inside the coffin and closed it up as much as they were able.

It was not any less of a tomb. It was not any less upsetting to Hua Cheng in its existence. But it was, at least, cleaned and empty. A respectful resting place for the memory of this time in Xie Lian’s life.

It eased something in him to set this tomb right. To feel Xie Lian whole and content by his side in this place that had hurt him for so long. He wondered if it eased something in Xie Lian too.

The red thread shrunk with the distance between their hands as Xie Lian’s fingers intertwined in his.

“I’m ready to go if San Lang is.”

“Gege got what he needed?”

Xie Lian smiled up at him, beautiful and soft. “En. I’ve got what I need.”

And so, with a kiss and a toss of the dice, they left the tomb of the Guoshi Fangxin for good. Perhaps the effects of that period of time would never fade, and it certainly would always have a hand in how they reunited, but there really was no more to say about it now. That chapter of Xie Lian’s life had ended.

It was time for a new chapter. One full of love and understanding and of learning all the silly little eccentricities of each other. It was perhaps a chapter they would never be able to close.

And Hua Cheng thought that was what made him luckiest of all.