Archive of Our Own

There were many that contributed to the world of art: Those that consumed art and those who created it. The latter could be further divided by skill: Many were novices, and few were experts. But once in a century, true masters were born, dominating their fields within the art world. These rare geniuses had skills that could rival the gods-some mastered poetry, some painting, some other mediums.

And then, there was Crimson Rain Sought Flower, a once-in-a-lifetime artist whose work was unparalleled in the realm of sculpture.

His work was no doubt the best in the land. At such a young age, he had gained fame and wealth from his masterpieces, and amazingly, he accomplished this without formal lessons nor a master. His sculptures were a sight to see and an honor to have in one's home. His attention to every detail made his sculptures look lifelike, and some even praised that he could breathe life into his masterpieces. The common people enjoyed seeing his art in public gardens, while the wealthy would pay just about anything to secure a commission spot from the famous Crimson Rain Sought Flower, Hua Cheng.

But to Hua Cheng himself, this was all but a little hobby to keep himself entertained.

In his career, Hua Cheng thought he had created it all, but it seemed that the world still liked to throw challenges at him. At least, these challenges were somewhat entertaining every now and then. Today happened to present one such challenge.

He remembered the day the royal courrier had arrived at his home bearing a message from the palace. It was an invitation to discuss a potential commission for the Emperor. The scroll was a work of art in itself—Emperor Jun Wu did not skimp on the expense of the materials. Hua Cheng’s lone disciple, Yin Yu, was fascinated just holding it, and he slowly traced the characters that flowed on the scroll. From the parchment, to the backing, to even the intricate designs that were hand-carved onto the handles, this message itself was worth more than some art pieces.

Hua Cheng scoffed mentally at the thought of Emperor Jun Wu requesting his presence. What could a leader with dubious political interests want with him? Whatever the reasons the request both annoyed and interested the sculptor. It wasn’t like he could actually refuse an invitation from His Royal Highness…even if he really wanted to.

Sometimes he loathed taking commissions from the ultra-wealthy.

Nobles and aristocrats were all the same. They all wanted art to memorialize and display their wealth, power, and luck. Their commissions were unoriginal and boring—statues of Fu dogs for protection, dancing ladies for entertainment, and large jade carvings of divine dragons to boast about their said powers. Over and over, they gave him these dull, repetitive requests, and frankly, Hua Cheng was getting awfully bored.

However, this new project was different from the others.

Many artists would kill to be able to make art for someone as important as Jun Wu. Many more would cave from the pressure and expectations, and run in fear. But to Hua Cheng, this was mere amusement. Of all the artisans in the land, the Emperor chose him to complete whatever gaudy artwork he had in mind.

And so, here he was, entering the viewing hall of the grand palace, to have a meeting with the Emperor himself.

Aside from a few servants on the sidelines, the men were alone in this vast viewing chamber. Hua Cheng thought it was quite a waste of space. The floors polished to a shine to reflect the radiant light of candles. Beautifully carved wood and stones line the edges of the walls and staircase. One could spend hours looking at the intricate details from section to section. The placement of such beautiful craftsmanship led one's eye to the very top where his Highness would sit. Emperor Jun Wu looked like a kind man, many call him handsome, charming and the face of power. Whether they said this authentically or to save face was lost to Hua Cheng.

His escort kneeled in His Highness's presence, a bow so deep the man was basically kissing the floor. His voice was loud and clear as day, echoing through the walls of the throne room. Hua Cheng, however, did not kneel. Jun Wu did not mind the disrespect; he looked more entertained than anything. With the slightest hand movement, Jun Wu dismissed the escort who swiftly walked out, bowing once more before closing the doors behind him.

There was a small silence between the two men, Jun Wu’s gaze looking straight at the sculptor.

He then spoke.

“Crimson Rain, I take it my servants have treated you well on your way here?” The man asked, looking down to the vast floor below.The distance between the two resembled that of Heaven and Earth; Jun Wu saw the artist as no more than an ant in his presence.

Hua Cheng gave the royal a polite smile and nodded, though his eye told a different story, almost smirking in a way. “To have His Highness invite me on such short notice was a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have heard great things about you. You seemed to have sparked conversation throughout the kingdom with your work. I only wished to see the man himself. I do also wish to request something of you. A commission that would benefit your kingdom greatly.”

There it is, the request he had been expecting. How typical. Hua Cheng thought about what boring, gaudy artwork the man expected him to create. Perhaps something political, maybe something to stroke his own ego? The thought almost made Hua Cheng want to laugh and roll his eye. Despite all of these endless possibilities running through his mind, Hua Cheng remained silent and waited for the other man to spit out his request.

"Create for me the embodiment of the Heavens," the man said, perched atop his throne of jade and gold.

‘Oh?’

"A beauty like no other. Something so ethereal that it must be too good to be true. While I have yet to see what makes you, Crimson Rain Sought Flower, better than all the other dull artists in our realm, I am told that such a vision would be undemanding and simple for you."

To most, these words were clearly a direct insult to one's skill. However, the words didn't affect the artist in the slightest.

"It would be an honor, Your Majesty, though I am quite surprised at your tastes. Hiring such a dull artist like myself, I was not aware of his majesty's interest in dull art.” His smile from afar may have looked sincere, but there was no doubt that there was mockery hidden within those upturned lips.

From where Hua Cheng stood, he could not see how the Emperor balled his hand into a fist Jun Wu found him to be an annoyance, and oh how Jun Wu wished to tarnish this man's name, but the artist's results were more important than his mocking words. “Very well. I shall have the materials delivered to your estate in three days’ time.” He looked down toward the woman that stood at the base of the stairs. “Ling Wen, please take the materials order for him and have it delivered to his estate,” the Emperor ordered, a hint of vexation in his tone. Ling Wen, who stood with an indifferent look on her face, turned to face the Emperor and bowed slightly. "Of course Your Highness."

"You may now leave. You have plenty of work to do."

Insults aside, the request piqued the sculptor’s interest. Usually, his patrons had something in mind when it came to the prompt and wished for their exact vision to be followed through. This, however, was different. The prompt was open-ended… meaning it was all up to Hua Cheng to bring to life whatever vision he thought matched the prompt: A statue that would encapsulate the beauty of the heavens, something that even he would worship.

And so, he accepted the assignment.

The thought of it all put a smile on his lips as he descended the palace stairs without a care in the world. A big project like this could keep him entertained for some time.

❁

When they arrived back at his estate, Hua Cheng didn't waste any time and began preparations. Statues of such scale and detail usually took months to a year to complete. Preparations had to be made with time. Hua Cheng went straight through the courtyard of his home and through the large black doors engraved with silver butterflies that lead to his private studio.

The studio was a separate building from the main house, built this way so that the process of transporting materials and finished product wouldn’t be a hassle for Hua Cheng's apprentice or his commissioners’ servants. It also had a beautiful view of the courtyard garden with countless flowers and fixtures to admire. At the center of the courtyard was a flowering tree old enough to have seen the construction of the estate. Sometimes, when he wasn’t motivated to work, Hua Cheng would sit at the edge with open doors and enjoy watching the evening roll by.

Inside the studio was an array of both mess and organization. The musty stillness of stone took over the large space accompanied by a tinge of iron in the air. Sculptures ranging from small animals to large humanoid creatures were scattered throughout the space, all in different phases of completion. Several figures were barely complete, yearning for the sculptor to free them from their stone and jade confines while others waited patiently for Hua Cheng to gently chisel their finishing touches. Years of stone debris decorated the floor, eagerly awaiting to paint the bottoms of Hua Cheng's feet. There had been attempts to sweep the debris out of the area, but no matter how much one swept, it always returned as if nothing had changed.

"How was the meeting with the Emperor? You took forever in there, I was beginning to worry that you wouldn’t make it out," Yin Yu asked, setting down the supplies he had been asked to fetch while he waited for the artist to finish up at the imperial palace. He could have waited for his mentor at the base of the steps, but even he didn't want to stay around the suffocating aura of the imperial palace.

“Like any other rich client; quite full of himself.” Hua Cheng ran his hands through the new tools his apprentice had gathered for him during his meeting at the palace. He picked up a new metal chisel to inspect its craftsmanship. It was about time he got some new ones.

“He is still the Emperor. I’m shocked that he didn’t give the request to any of his court appointed artists. So, this must be something really important, Shifu.”

Hua Cheng wanted to just laugh. “Emperor Jun Wu has quite the attitude—I found it rather amusing hearing his weak insults. This might be one of those political ploys His Highness is using to appeal to the masses. Despite being the divine ruler he claims to be, he still needs to save face.” His hand twirled one of the new chisels, the shiny metal dancing in between the sculptor’s fingers.

“However, the prompt seems interesting, so I will give him what he wants.”

Yin Yu sighed at his teacher's comment and continued to store his purchases away. Sometimes, he wondered how this man hadn't gotten executed yet.

❁

Within three days, Ling Wen arrived at the estate with the materials as promised. Hua Cheng stood by Ling Wen at the back entrance of his studio, watching Yin Yu instruct the palace servants on where to place the materials. For once he wasn’t doing the heavy lifting, which was quite nice for a change.

Several men pulled multiple large slabs of beautiful white marble into the studio, tied with ropes and pulled in by simple wagons that supported the stone’s weight. Other items included tools such as chisels of varying points, hammers, rakes, and grinders of different textures to sand the piece. It was enough materials to open a school with. Hua Cheng seemed satisfied with the amount, while Yin Yu was over the moon with the extra material he could work with. “His Majesty was unsure of how much you will require for the project, so we had some surplus sent to you just in case. Feel free to keep the leftover material as a thank you from the palace. We are excited to see the results of this piece.”

Hua Cheng smiled and gave the advisor a small bow. “I appreciate the generosity in donations. My apprentice will notify you via letter of the sculpture's completion.”

Normally it was up to the patron to select the materials for their commission, but the Emperor gave him complete liberty on both the subject and the medium. With such a high budget, Hua Cheng had many options for materials. Wood, jade, stone, ivory, and so much more were at the tips of his fingers. Normally, he worked with gray stone and the occasional large chunks of jade, but none of these materials stuck to him. Working with the same materials over and over again got very repetitive and boring. Besides, something so beautiful deserved an equally beautiful stone. Marble had many advantages to show soft and dainty details. It was the perfect, no—it was the only option for his vision.

When Ling Wen and her servants departed, he followed Yin Yu through the silver butterfly doors. Hua Cheng now stood in front of the large slab of white marble that was centered in the room. It was a couple of heads taller than him and wide enough for mistakes to be made during the drafting process. Hands running along the smooth stone, he began to circle the slab.

Like many of his past sculptures, the marble held a figure captive, waiting for its moment to be released into the world.

❁

Two months passed since the initial date of the commission, and the studio was already in disarray. Hua Cheng and Yin Yu continued to throw ideas at each other for this project, some were tossed while others were combined into multiple sketches that were strewn about the floor. This continued on and on until an official sketch had been finally drafted.

By now, Hua Cheng had a general shape sketched and developed into marble. No detailed features were revealed yet, but the sketch itself was rather scandalous.The charcoal on the stone revealed what appeared to be a male figure. For the most part, male figures were sculpted in intimidating armor or depicted in the most lavish clothes the heavens could provide. The lack of clothes in Hua Cheng’s sculpture, however, spoke volumes on its own.

When one sculpts for the Emperor, many would go the safe route of depicting his royal highness as the heavenly power. It was the most safe and logical of ideas. Many would be awed by looking at the divine portraits of the Emperor, and one could embellish his riches into the sculpture with ease. Hua Cheng was never given strict guidelines, only to sculpt what he deemed heavenly.Hua Cheng wanted to take a completely different approach, one that focused on how many of the Emperor’s subjects would think of Jun Wu’s tastes in art as “heavenly” in and of itself. So by sculpting a nude figure, many of those subjects would be shocked, and would proceed to gossip about his taste in art being more sordid than “heavenly”. And also, a nude figure could be interpreted as heavenly— nudity was a subject revered as taboo, yet sacred to many; if one is to worship an idol, they should be able to worship every aspect of it.

Mortals seemed to always forget about the roots of their deities, opting to blindly follow them no matter what. Under all of those flowy garments, under all of those jewels and riches, these gods were just like them. They had bodies that housed their spirits, their achievements, and their beauty. Despite all of the great legends and stories, most of these gods were once humans, just like the loyal worshippers beneath them. If Jun Wu wanted something worshipable, he should be able to worship the whole deity in all its nude glory.

To Hua Cheng, this was a genius idea, and the perfect subject. Additionally, it was a great way to mock the Emperor in a tasteful manner. But despite this genius planning, Hua Cheng was still unsatisfied with the current state of the Marble. Despite the sensual pose, the marble was still not speaking to him. No voice called out to him to set them free from their stone prison, and it began to frustrate the sculptor. He had come this far, yet he now grew bored and irritated.

This was something to be worshiped, but the idea of worship was so foreign to Hua Cheng. He did not pray in temples, never lit incense, nor wore spiritual charms. Why would he, if he knew that his prayers would always go unanswered? Why pray to a God that never listened? How could he worship something that doesn’t exist?

❁

Today was yet again one of those unproductive nights. While he had the basic sketch and dimensions written on the statue, nothing had been released as of yet. He had been in the studio for so long, night had already fallen upon them with very little progress. Dozens of candles lit the studio with warm light, their positions casting patterns of light and shadow on the materials. From the opened windows, soft beams of moonlight brought a gentle glow to the marble’s ivory color.

Yin Yu brought Hua Cheng his supper a while back. He ate bits and pieces over the next few hours, but there were still cold noodles left by night's end. The plate lay abandoned next to several others from previous meals. Hua Cheng vowed that he would pick them up tomorrow, when his mind wasn’t plagued with artist’s block.

Hua Cheng let out a frustrated sigh as he chipped off a small portion of the stone. None of his ideas were flowing into his tools, and every approach he used led to dead ends. With each sketch and attempt to progress his vision, the artist grew more and more dissatisfied. Usually inspiration came so naturally to him. So why, now of all times, was his ingenuity gone?

He set his hammer and chisel down by his feet, signaling the end of today's work. ‘I can't work like this,’ he thought to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose to alleviate his oncoming headache.

“This shouldn’t be so difficult. Jun Wu is really trying to fuck with me,” Hua Cheng groaned, moving his hand up to rub his temple for relief.

The studio was a mess of marble, paper, and disappointment. His audience of unfinished stone figures watched intently as Hua Cheng sighed in exhaustion, their eyes growing jealous of the attention the Marble was getting. He couldn’t work in these conditions. Hua Cheng ignored their judgmental stares and dragged himself to his home, looking back at the moonlit marble one more time before closing the obsidian doors.

Once in his room, he discarded his day clothes into a pile by his bed—too tired to bathe, let alone put them away. Never had the softness of his silk sheets been so welcoming, their smooth texture hugging his tired body. The mix of comfort and exhaustion eventually won their battle. Slowly, his exhausted eyes fluttered shut and immersed him into complete darkness.

❁

Not long after Hua Cheng began to drift into the comfort of slumber, he felt his entire body viciously shift, and his stomach lurched with the sudden feeling of being dropped . His wooden bed frame crumbled into pieces, sending several silk sheets flying like vengeful ghosts. There was no bedroom, no ground—only a deep darkness that threatened to swallow him whole .

Hua Cheng was falling.

The once calm and collected sculptor was reduced to a terrified boy. His heart leaped out from his chest, panic taking full control of his body. Brown eyes darted side to side, flailing hands desperately looked for something to grab onto. His mind and body were lost to the desperate need to survive, much like wild animals did when cornered by the maws of their predators.

As much as his mind raced for a solution, he found none. Dread began to sink in as he realized a solemn truth—there was nothing he could do, and he was going to die.

He was going to die.

In his last moments, as if possessed, he gave a silent, desperate plea for help.

God, save me.

His eyes closed shut as his body tensed for the inevitable impact. He dare not look at what would meet him at the bottom of this abyss.

But the impact never came. In fact, he stopped falling all together.

He was being held.

When he opened his eyes, he was met with the sight of a person, a man specifically. He felt the touch of hands supporting his tense body, cradling him with the utmost love and care. It was a feeling of tenderness that Hua Cheng hadn’t felt in a long time. Only moments after the horrifying fear of a painful death, that dread was nowhere to be found. He felt warm, safe, and loved.

In that moment Hua Cheng felt like a small child, helpless and vulnerable as he looked in awe at his savior. Thousands of crowned peonies fluttered through the air around them, their elegant dance aiding in the concealment of this figure. Hua Cheng’s eyes weren’t able to focus on the figure; everything became vague and foggy in the flowers’ presence.

One of the hands that supported his body slowly began to trail up until it was gently caressing his cheek, gently wiping away the tears that stained poor Hua Cheng's face. “It is alright San Lang… You are safe.” A voice smooth and sweet dripped from the figure's lips. Hua Cheng’s eyes grew wide. San Lang…he had not heard that name in ages. No one but his long deceased parents knew of that name.

His eyes studied each move those lips made, trying his best to burn them into his memory. The tone of the man’s voice was similar to that of a caring mother who was reassuring their frightened child that everything would be alright.

Hua Cheng placed his hand on top of the stranger’s, feeling the smooth, moonlit skin that held him so safely. It was soft and warm, and poor Hua Cheng could not help but melt into the embrace.

Any words that he had died in his throat. Only shaky breaths were able to escape.

Slowly their fingers intertwined, lacing perfectly like a matching pair meant to be. Hua Cheng didn’t know how to feel about such a soft hand touching something so unworthy as his—ones that were dirty, calloused, and roughed from years of craftsmanship.

He was beautiful, oh so ethereally beautiful.

He was graced in the presence of true beauty, and there was no doubt in his mind that this was God. God had descended from the heavens to save his poor soul.

Hua Cheng felt unworthy.

But he didn’t want to let go. He wanted to stay like this forever.

But of course, all great banquets must come to an end.

“I’ll be waiting for you, San Lang.”

Even though no words could escape Hua Cheng’s lips, the expression on his face was like an open book.

‘Please don’t go, please don’t leave, I beg of you.’

‘Please, God, don’t leave me.’

But before he could do anything, the man disappeared into the dancing flowers. Hua Cheng desperately reached out, but he grabbed nothing but flower petals. He begged his God to come back, but was met with silence. When the petals faded away and his vision finally cleared, he was greeted by the sight of one lone flower.

That mysterious, ethereal deity was long gone.

When Hua Cheng awoke the next morning, he was in a daze. He stared at his bedroom ceiling for several minutes before managing to sit up and scan the rest of the bedroom. There was no one else in this room—only himself and his discarded clothes from last night.

For the artist, dreams were very few and far between; he wasn't really a dreamer so to say. Most of his inspirations mainly just came to him on a whim. But this dream was like no other. He remembered it so clearly: those soft, delicate hands cupping his face and tracing his unworthy calloused hands. Slowly, Hua Cheng placed his hand onto his own cheek, reminiscing on the soft touch that lingered from God’s delicate hands last night. To Hua Cheng’s surprise though, numerous crowned peonies were scattered around the bed, their rosey-citrus scent the same as in the dream. It was strange—he swore that the window was closed last night, but he must have forgotten. They must have been carried in by the wind.

The rest of the morning went on like normal, only Hua Cheng seemed to be distracted with his own thoughts. He barely touched his breakfast and barely paid attention to Yin Yu’s sketch warmups. No matter what his apprentice did, Yin Yu couldn't get his teacher's head out of the clouds today.

Hua Cheng held onto one of the peonies from his bedside this morning, slender fingers thumbing through the groves of each petal. He was looking for answers to his many unanswered questions, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not remember the entirety of the dream. All of the details were foggy except for a few small things, and it continued to plague him all day. That voice, sweet as honey, echoed in his mind. He could match that voice with equally beautiful lips, but could not match a face to its owner.

❁

Days went by like any other—lessons, sculpting, and lounging under the now-blooming tree. The thoughts of that dream were still in the back of Hua Cheng’s mind. He tried his best to occupy himself with tasks and projects:anything to keep his focus on the present.

The majority of the day was spent outside, where he supervised Yin Yu on texture techniques using scrap pieces of clay Yin Yu had shoveled from the nearby riverbank. For a moment, the focus needed to carve into clay helped distract Hua Cheng’s racing mind, but not for long. As he tried to focus on the precise movements of the carving tool, the cool touch of clay along his palms and fingertips reminded him of the gentle hands that had supported and comforted his tiny, vulnerable self within his dream. If only they would have stayed forever, held him and never let go…

“Shifu.”

Hua Cheng couldn’t help but to smile at the thought. There was a warm, fluttering feeling in his chest at the thought of his savior. A rare comfort in this harsh world…

“Shifu.”

Hua Cheng had not realized that Yin Yu had been calling out to him.

“Shifu? Shifu! The clay!”

In that moment, Hua Cheng broke from his daze and realized that the clay he had been working on had been balled up and squished under his hands, his carving tool long forgotten on the floor. Any signs of the texture he had been applying were long gone and smoothed over by his own hands.

“I was deep in thought, my apologies Yin Yu.” The sculptor looked at the mess he had made for a brief second before placing the clay back into the wet bucket with the rest. Perhaps today he should work on something more stationary, like the pottery wheel.

“Shifu, are you alright?” Yin Yu looked at his teacher with much worry, wanting to take the clay bucket from his hands but knowing better than to do so.

“I’m...I’m fine Yin Yu. It's just one of those days for me.” Hua Cheng tried his very best to look unfazed by it all, but Yin Yu knew him by now. After many years under his tutalage, the tough act didn’t really work on his young apprentice. It only made the student even more concerned. “Let's continue with the lesson,” Hua Cheng said.

“Shifu, we should end lessons early today. I can work on my technique in private. Maybe you can take the rest of the day to relax.”

There was silence, short and uncomfortable. Hua Cheng took a moment to collect himself before getting up from his station to wash his hands in a basin of water they had fetched earlier today. He didn’t want to make his student worried. “Very well. I will still be around the premises. I expect these clay techniques to be done by tomorrow morning.”

Yin Yu was actually shocked that his suggestion had been taken. Usually, his Shifu was a bit more stubborn and would proceed with the lesson regardless of what was ailing him. Something must have really been plaguing his thoughts for him to end class so willingly, but Yin Yu was in no place to ask. He helped his teacher clean up the area and placed their equipment back into storage before taking his leave for the day, leaving Hua Cheng to his own devices.

Hua Cheng still stood there long after his student had left him, looking down at his own hands as if something was missing from them. Even though the clay had been cleaned from his fingers, the smooth touch lingered and reminded him of the mysterious one from his dream.

As much as he hated it, Yin Yu was right. This dream was taking his focus away from important matters. Hua Cheng had priorities, after all. The Emperor's commission still awaited his masterful touch. Taking the day to focus on himself and relax would be a good way to get his thoughts back on track. Maybe a break and a breath of fresh air would help him to conquer the slump he had gotten himself into.

As much as he wanted to make progress on the sculpture, he knew today wasn’t the day for that.

.

After much thought, he decided to stay outside for the remainder of the day,—the weather was perfect for some nature sketching. Days like these where nature presented its most beautiful creations were the perfect day for drawing. Hua Cheng grabbed his supplies and settled himself at the base of the elder tree in the courtyard.

It was a particularly cool spring day and much of the garden was in full bloom, giving the artist ample material for his sketches.

But the more he drew, the more he thought about Him. He had to know who his God was—he had to see His face, His hands, His everything. He had so many questions to ask Him, too.

‘Who was He? Why did He choose me? When will I see Him again?’ Endless questions stampeded through his mind while brush and ink flowed onto the paper.

“Dianxia…”

Hua Cheng stopped himself in his tracks, his brushstrokes ending abruptly on the corners of the page. Ink quickly soaked through the corner of the paper in an unceremonious blob.

What did he just say? ‘Dianxia?’

This deity had no name that Hua Cheng knew of, yet the title Dianxia worked so well it felt almost instinctual. Hua Cheng liked the sound of it. He was never the type to refer to royals and nobles by their official titles, thinking that such grandiose titles would stroke their already large egos. But Dianxia… There was something about the way that title rolled off his tongue. He wondered if he would ever be granted the opportunity of knowing His true name, if He had one to give. Regardless, Hua Cheng still thought the title fit well. It felt natural and right to use that title, a name fitting of someone with such a royal visage–Someone as graceful and kind as the one from his dream.

He looked down at his paper and was surprised to see the familiar peonies captured in his brushstrokes.

❁

Tonight had been another late night for Hua Cheng in the studio. Yin Yu had long gone to bed hours ago, leaving the artist alone with nothing but the marble and his thoughts. None of his ideas had developed in all the time he was here. Any time he attempted to use his chisel and hammer, there was always some sort of hesitation that prevented him from putting tools to stone. Eventually, Hua Cheng set the tools down onto the table with its other companions, and anxiously paced around the marble slab. He hoped that by the time he turned around again, there would be inspiration awaiting him, but unfortunately, luck was not on his side..

Hua Cheng went through his nightly routine of bathing, braiding his long hair, skin care, and dressing into his night robes. Said robes were a beautiful deep red with the depiction of embroidered silver butterflies, foxes, and cute bunnies frollicing through the silk garment. Even if he didn’t care much for his wealth, enjoying the finer things was good once in a while…even if those fine things were a little tacky.

After his extensive nightly routine was complete, Hua Cheng dragged his tired body through the corridors of the estate. At the entrance of his bedroom he let out an exhausted sigh. Today was draining, and he barely got anything done at all. What was the use of spending so much time on a project that wasn’t coming to him naturally? In the back of his mind, Hua Cheng wished for another chance to see Him—the God in his dreams. He had not seen signs of Him in some time after the dream and the peonies that had appeared in his sketches. He began to think about why, but Hua Cheng found he was too tired for even that.

The sculptor crawled into his bed and was greeted by the cool touch of his silk sheets. He stared up at the ceiling for quite some time, hoping that either inspiration or slumber would emerge from the intricate carvings of the wooden panels up above and come to him. When that didn’t work, he resorted to deep breathing exercises. His body finally began to relax, and his vision began to blur as he eased into his slumber.

Maybe he would see Him in his dreams again.

❁

When Hua Cheng opened his eye, he was no longer in the comfort of his bed. His eye had a hard time focusing due to a bright light above him, but indescribably tall tails of grass gave his eye some slight relief. He had been transported to a vast and beautiful field.

It all looked straight out of a beautiful painting, with a beautiful sky, blue and clear of any imperfections, and the occasional cloud here and there. Hua Cheng wandered the field with no destination in mind. There was nothing but grass and sky, as far as the eye could see.

The wind blew playfully past Hua Cheng, fiddling with his robes and long hair like a curious child. The wind carried peony petals along with it, a few landing on Hua Cheng's hand. He couldn’t help but be in awe at the small petals, and he touched the grooves gently. These were no doubt His peonies. He was here somewhere. The thought of His presence made him excited.

In the midst of Hua Cheng admiring the petals, the wind tugged at his sleeves, wanting the artist to pay attention—to follow. It would not stop until Hua Cheng did what it asked. So, he followed without hesitation.

He eagerly followed the wind and the trail of flowers. With each step he took, more peonies bloomed, soft on his skin, as if kissing Hua Cheng's feet.

“San Lang. You’re here!”

A familiar voice caught Hua Cheng's attention. When he looked up, he was in the presence of God once again. The God stood under the familiar peony tree that stood proudly in Hua Cheng’s garden back home, its branches shading Him from the harsh rays of the sun. Hua Cheng's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Him. His clothes were dazzling, fitting of royalty, with only the best jewelry and silks adorning His heavenly body. The deity smiled and waved over to Hua Cheng, beckoning him to come close. Hua Cheng's heart swelled with happiness.

Dianxia was excited to see him?

“Over here!” Dianxia called.

Hua Cheng's stomach was filled with butterflies hearing His voice again. He had so many questions—so much curiosity. He wanted to feel their hands intertwined again. To feel that kindness bestowed upon him again.

Just like in his previous dream, His face was still concealed from Hua Cheng. This time, though, he noticed Dianxia was only wearing a half mask, allowing Hua Cheng to take in even more of His beauty. The sculptor gently took his muse’s hand and placed a gentle kiss atop His smooth skin. Despite the move being outwardly suave, Hua Cheng was a mess on the inside. He wanted to shout in joy, to weep, to scream to the heavens about his love for Him, but he willed himself to remain calm.

“Dianxia… You’re here.”

Dianxia couldn’t help but to chuckle at Hua Cheng. “Of course I am, I made a promise, didn’t I?”

The deity reached up to touch a bare branch on the tree, stroking the smaller branches between His fingers. From His lingering touch, new growth began to emerge. Small buds began to appear and slowly bloomed into beautiful peonies. Hua Cheng was in awe at the sight, seeing His capabilities, His kindness towards the tree. He was truly a God of nature and beauty.

“How about a dance?” Dianxia asked. “We have enough room all around us. Though, I warn you—my feet can be quite uncoordinated at times.” He extended his hand towards Hua Cheng, awaiting his response.

‘A dance? With me?’

To dance with Him, in this picturesque landscape…Hua Cheng was over the moon with excitement. He felt unworthy to have such an honor bestowed upon him, but he was not going to pass up this chance.

So Hua Cheng bowed, a smile creeping on his lips. “Of course, Your Highness.”

There was no hesitation in accepting the invitation to dance. The sculptor led Him to a more spacious part of the field for their dance, taking a slight bow toward Him. Hua Cheng took the lead position in their waltz. Throughout their dance, Hua Cheng couldn’t help but smile at Him, capturing His breathtaking smile and His beautiful eyes that shined like gold under the sun. He wanted to burn this memory forever in his mind, to paint it atop large tapestries and sculpt it on mountain sides for all to see just how beautiful and graceful his God was.

‘I want to stay like this, forever,’ he thought.

‘Together with you is my only wish in this world.’

Hua Cheng could faintly hear the jingling of chains approaching, but he was too preoccupied with the feeling of God's hands in his as they danced through this beautiful meadow to pay it any mind. This was paradise—a dream come true. He hoped he would never wake up.

As their dance came to an end, Hua Cheng's loving gaze met Dianxia’s golden eyes once more. His calloused hands reached up to cup the other's face, thumbs rubbing His cheeks lovingly. The soft and warm feeling of His cheeks was everything Hua Cheng had ever dreamed of and more—he could hold Him like this forever. His fingers gently touched the edges of His mask, a silent ask of permission. He would never do anything Dianxia didn’t want. Dianxia couldn't help but to chuckle before closing his eyes—a silent sign of approval.

As Hua Cheng was about to finally see His face for the first time, he suddenly felt his God tense up. Hua Cheng stopped in his tracks, worried that he might have done something wrong. His darling savior staggered, and Hua Cheng thought that perhaps he had accidentally tripped him with his foot. But Dianxia continued to stumble backwards as if he was being pulled by something. With each step back He took, one could hear the growing sound of a familiar rattling. Hua Cheng tried his best to steady his beloved muse, and asked if he was alright.

It was at that moment when his eyes locked onto the chains.

Those chains that Hua Cheng had ignored earlier had now coiled themselves around Dianxia’s body. The chains tugged at Him, pulling Him away from the sculptor. Each tug grew harsher and more frequent, until there were no breaks in between. Hua Cheng held onto his savior's hand tightly, and Dianxia gripped at him with equal force. Both tried so hard to hold onto each other, not wanting to let the other go. The chains however had other ideas, pulling at Dianxia harshly until their hands broke apart from each other, sending the deity flying backwards through the tall grass.

“DIANXIA!!!!” Hua Cheng yelled His name, panic quickly taking over his body and mind.

No matter how fast Hua Cheng ran, he could not reach his Dianxia. As he chased after Him, the beautiful field they danced on began to deteriorate. No more was the beautiful meadow and trees— all rotted away with each step he took. He watched Dianxia’s soft and vivid peonies wither away, their beautiful petals drying up and turning into dust. Bright blue skies were polluted into a crimson red, and the once picturesque landscape began to burn. Hua Cheng lost sight of Him, and could no longer hear His cries. The sculptor tried his best to call out to Him amidst the awful hellscape.

“Dianxia! Dianxia, where are you?!” Hua Cheng shouted in all directions, in hopes of a response, a sound, anything.

“Dianxia!”

There was no response: the only sounds he heard came from the crushing of dead flora under his feet, and his own panicked breathing. He could feel his heart about to leap from his chest, fear coursing through his veins.

‘This can’t be happening.’

‘No…no.’

‘NONONONONONONONO.’

‘I want to wake up’.

‘Please, I want to wake up.’

‘WAKE UP.’

‘PLEASE!’

‘WAKE UP!’

Unfortunately for Hua Cheng, there was no waking up. This seemed to be a reality that he was fated to suffer through.

The harsh landscape grew worse and worse as Hua Cheng ran in search of Him. The once playful wind was now cold and unloving towards Hua Cheng. The sharp gusts of wind made it hard for him to move freely, forcing him towards one direction. As he was pulled along, he could see faint glimpses of those familiar petals from before in the distance. His petals. Unlike the rest of the landscape, these petals were still fresh and free of decay. Hua Cheng hopes that this was a sign that He was still here, somewhere in this hellscape.

He had to find Him.

He followed the wind and petals for what seemed like eons, seeing nothing but a sea of death and deterioration as far as he could see. Still, there was no sign of his Dianxia anywhere; not a sound, not a flower, not even a piece of clothing. He continued to call out to Him, desperately searching even the smallest of rotted bushes for any sign of Him. He searched and searched until he could finally glimpse something in the distance. The sculptor stopped for a second to survey what exactly he was looking at.

There, straight ahead, he noticed a marble slab eerily placed in the center of the field, bound by chains. In the distance, Hua Cheng could see the silhouette of a palace. It stood watching, and Hua Cheng felt a predatory energy emitting from the structure.

As Hua Cheng approached the chained statue, he noted that the chains bore the emblem of the Imperial Palace—a sigil Hua Cheng was all too familiar with. That same sigil was all over the palace grounds, from the banners to the doors to the armor of Jun Wu's faithful soldiers. Hua Cheng recalls seeing them often patrolling the kingdom, that cursed emblem engraved large and vivid onto their shiny armor. It was always a reminder of who the real authority was in the land. Noone couldn’t escape it, not even in their dreams, and it seemed that Hua Cheng was no exception.

As Hua Cheng stepped closer to the marble slab, he felt his heart stop. Initially, there was nothing significant about the slab other than the metal chains around it, but as he looked closer, he could see that the marble was a depiction of something—no. Someone. It was his Dianxia, trapped inside the large marble slab. Imprisoned.

The chains of the Imperial Palace tightened around the encased figure. The face of Dianxia’s statue looked tortured, as if gasping for air. As if He was choking. Hua Cheng gripped the smooth stone and tried to break his beloved Dianxia out of His stone prison. But no matter what he did, no matter how hard his nails tried to dig into the stone, he couldn’t free Him.

He continued to scratch at the marble until his fingers were raw, leaving small streaks of his own blood against the statue. All reason had left the sculptor. He would destroy his own body if it meant he could free his God. But with each unsuccessful attempt, he found his desires futile, and tears began to stream down Hua Cheng's face.

He was so distraught with the scene that he had not noticed the withered grasslands disappearing into nothing at a rapid pace. When the ground beneath Hua Cheng began to disappear, he panicked. He held onto the slab of marble desperately, not wanting to fall and leave Him behind. He couldn’t leave Him, he just couldn't.

Once again, he found himself falling.

Hua Cheng had failed Him...

…And this time, Dianxia would not save him.

He was going to die.

The sensation of falling violently woke Hua Cheng up, his breathing harsh and uneven as his body rose from his silk sheets. Hua Cheng's eyes frantically searched around the room for any sign of that chained figure. Unlike the previous dream, there was no sign of the deity, nor feelings of curiosity or gentleness— there was only the sense of dread. He was gone, He was taken away. Hua Cheng recalled the looming palace in his nightmare, and the Emperor’s chains that had so cruelly bound his God. That Jun Wu, how dare he touch him? How dare he take Him? How dare he hurt him?!

Hua Cheng had to find Him.

He had to free Him.

Bedsheets flew into the air as Hua Cheng raced out of his room, forgetting all about his usual morning routine. He didn’t care that he was in his night robe or that he was barefoot—nothing mattered other than Him. He was so frantic in his scramble to his studio, there were a few times where his bare feet slipped on the wooden floors Yin Yu had freshly polished earlier this morning, still waiting for the wind to dry them off.

Yin Yu was actually on his way to his Shifu’s room with a tray of breakfast dishes—his Shifu had gone to bed late last night, and Yin Yu hoped that a nice pick-me-up would be a great way to start his teacher’s day. Coming from the direction of Hua Cheng’s bedroom, hu heard quick and heavy footsteps coming closer. Shifu must be awake! Yin Yu was about to greet him, but before a ‘good morning’ could be uttered, Hua Cheng had come and gone in a flash. Yin Yu’s eyes only managed to catch a blur of red robes rushing past him, and they had even bumped into each other—but luckily nothing was spilled, and Hua Cheng never stopped running. Yin Yu was left in the hall, blinking in shock and holding that tray in his hands. Confused would be an understatement.

“Were those his night robes?” he asked himself.

❁

Hua Cheng ran and ran and ran all throughout the property, crossing the courtyard and bee-lining it to his studio. His calloused hands pushed the doors with great force, causing them to slam open with a loud bang. As he scrambled to enter the studio, Hua Cheng lost his footing and unceremoniously fell to his knees. When looked up, his eyes landed on the barely touched marble slab.

He was in there, trapped inside.

“Dianxia…”

Maybe it was the after effects of the nightmare, or the exhaustion of a long day, but Hua Cheng had surely felt it —that unfinished marble was calling to him. Even after so many years of creating, he had not experienced a pull such as this. Before he had realized, his tools were in hand. Hua Cheng found himself making unplanned, but confident chips at the stone. His concentration was absolute, and nothing could pull him from this inspired momentum. Eventually, he was forced to break away from the stone to light candles as the sunlight began to fade, but he returned straight to work once the studio was well lit.

After much chipping, breaking, and sanding, he took a brief break to look at his progress. Hua Cheng found himself in shock, almost dropping the sharp and heavy tools onto his bare feet. He could barely breathe at the sight.. He had been so caught in his motivated frenzy, that he had not realized what he had released from the marble until he took a step back. From within the block of white stone emerged a set of beautiful, familiar hands.

He had sculpted His hands.

There was no doubt in Hua Cheng’s mind that these were the very same hands that had saved him, held him as they danced, and reached for him as He was pulled away in chains. From the gentle creases of His palms to the clean and dainty fingernails, everything was exactly as he saw in his dreams, down to the very last detail. Hua Cheng carefully smoothed his own over the marble hands. The gesture was so gentle, as if he feared that his hands would destroy the beautiful thing he had just created.

This was a sign—how could it not be? Oh, how his heart ached. This wave of emotion, this inspiration….it must have come from Dianxia after all. He reached out to him. This was His call to him. It had to be. The proof was right in front of him. His God was beckoning him to release Him. To free Him. To save Him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took so long Dianxia. I will free you, I promise!” he cried.

Once upon a time, Hua Cheng did not believe in any deity high above. He never once lit incense nor prayed in any temples. He never saw the need for it—he was in control of his own life, not some higher power.

But that perspective changed when Dianxia had caught him, comforted him, and loved him in his dream. Hua Cheng had felt then, and every moment ever since, that the beautiful figure of his dreams was the one true God.

So for the first time, of his own will—not out of desperation, nor a will to survive, but just because he could, because it felt right to pay his respects—Hua Cheng prayed.

❁

Ever since he had carved His gentle hands, Hua Cheng became exceedingly invested in his Dianxia. With each passing day, his mind became more and more unable to dispose of any thoughts that related to Him. Just thinking about that gentle smile of His sent thousands of butterflies fluttering inside of the artist's stomach.

The artist began to conduct daily rituals around the studio. Hua Cheng would start his mornings greeting and praying to the statue. He would also gently place a fresh peony in the palm of His hand as an offering. If the weather was in their favor, he would leave the studio doors open to let in the breeze—for Dianxia deserved only the freshest of air. To others, these tasks were pointless and time consuming, but they had become a vital part of the artist's day. How would Hua Cheng get his inspiration if it wasn’t for these rituals and prayers? It was through these daily rituals that Hua Cheng felt he was given the constant flow of inspiration.

Each time he looked at his God, a sense of calmness washed over him.

Despite his muse being faceless, Hua Cheng held His cheek ever so gently, just as Dianxia had done in his dream on that fateful night.

This was devotion.

This was adoration.

And…

He was falling in love.

❁

Many months passed, and seasons changed. Spring evolved into summer, which then shifted into the richness of fall.

Over the past few months, word had gotten out about the Emperor's most recent art project, and by now it was the talk of the town. You could hear women in the markets whispering their own theories about the project, while the men betted against each other over what the subject matter would be. Some speculated over how long it would take for Hua Cheng to complete the task, as was known to be rather quick with his deadlines. Surely once Hua Cheng came into town, they could ask him all about it. Only… the sculptor hadn't been seen in quite some time.

These days, Hua Cheng barely left the estate and even less so the studio. Many townsfolk attempted to visit the studio to catch a glimpse of this famed work, but all were met with closed doors. Some were more concerned with Hua Cheng's health more so than the art he created, yet still, no one dared to enter the estate or call out for the artist's attention. The only thing they were able to lay eyes on was the proud peony tree that was somehow still blooming, even after its season had long passed. The townsfolk’s hesitation in getting too close to Hua Cheng was all the better for him—Hua Cheng was not about to let anyone see his unfinished work, let alone the visage of his greatest and holy muse.

Whispers about the artist's behavior soon began to weave throughout the crowds. Normally, Hua Cheng would frequent the bars and gambling dens just for fun on his off days. His sudden absence from these establishments was quite strange. The only sign of the artist even being alive was thought to be his assistant Yin Yu, who frequented town quite often for supplies and groceries. Many tried to ask the apprentice of Crimson Rain Sought Flower’s whereabouts, only to be told that his Shifu was hard at work and in a fit of inspiration. The townspeople began to notice that Yin Yu was also frequently buying incense and other offering-type things, and before long, rumors that the artist had finally found faith in the gods began to spread.

At first, this “fit of inspiration” wasn’t so bad.

It was common for an artist to dive into periods of deep focus and endless work. When one finds their muse, inspiration is bestowed upon like a blessing. It seemed Hua Cheng had simply found his muse, and was riding on that stream of inspiration.

But…if one entered the studio now, one might easily mistake it for a shrine in the making. Many of the beautiful peonies from outside were scattered all around the large slab of marble, decorating his darling God’s ever-so-changing pedestal. The smell of iron and clay was replaced with the strong scent of sandalwood. All of Hua Cheng’s previous works were left untouched, still yearning for a touch that was no longer theirs. Half-sculpted limbs reached out to him in stillness, begging for him to finish them, but their pleas fell onto the deaf ears of the feverishly devoted.

Ever since he had completed Dianxia’s hands, there had been steady progress on the sculpture— though the speed of that progress varied. Weeks would go by and uncover a large, beautiful section of Dianxia’s body, while other weeks were spent daydreaming and refining his vision in his mind under the peony tree. Hua Cheng never questioned how this one tree still bloomed while the others all had leaves of red, drying out at the coming of winter.. To him it was just another sign for him to keep going. A blessing from God high above.

He had also taken to practicing his detailed work on the extra materials that the palace had given him. Why ruin his main piece when he could practice certain details on scrap before applying it? He would practice strands of hair, jewelry, arms, legs and even facial features. Any detail that he wasn’t fully confident in, he would practice on scrap Marble. Eventually, there were many Dianxias, but none were nearly as complete as the one proudly standing at the center of the studio.

Originally, he had plans for the sculpture to be fully nude and on display for all to see. But as he progressed with the project, he deemed the common people unworthy to see the full extent of His beauty. So instead, he decided to carve a long shawl that covered His body. Even in this stage, one could see the softness of the marble cloth complimenting the figure's body. The cloth was thin enough for one to see subtle skin hiding from view, becoming more hidden as the cloth folded naturally.

The body of the sculpture itself was breathtaking. One hand reached out to the viewer, to Hua Cheng, with the utmost tenderness, while the other gently touched its own chest, a flowering branch nestled on the inside of his elbow. His physique was a mixture of elegance and strength, slight muscle defined from His delicate arms to His exposed back, while still capturing his slender figure.

Hua Cheng put every possible type of movement into consideration while sculpting. With each part he carved, he envisioned how He would move—how His arms would sweep graciously amongst the flowers, and how His feet would grace the mortal ground He walked upon.

Hua Cheng looked like a wild beast as he sculpted, eye wide and feral as he looked for any imperfections on the marble. With each chip of marble taken, he was closer to releasing Him. To be able to meet Him once more.

Before each carving session, Hua Cheng would light sticks of incense and place them at the foot of the sculpture as an offering of his devotion. Once the incense was lit, he would bow in prayer to Him, praying for guidance and inspiration. Throughout Hua Cheng’s isolation, he gifted Him offerings of many kinds—flowers from the tree, fruit from his meals, incense, and small carvings of plants and animals he had made. Despite the chaos of the studio, the area around the statue's offerings was always absent of any mess.

He was so close, so very close to completion. The body of the sculpture was nearly complete. Only the details remained. Months of planning, frustration, and inspiration had led up to this moment. He had tried time and time again to carve a face worthy of his God, but nothing was good enough. He practiced for hours on end on scrap materials, but the details always felt off—the nose was too small, the eyes lacked benevolence, the lips did not curl as he remembered. They weren’t perfect enough. Hua Cheng less than perfect was an unforgivable failure—it all had to be perfect. For Dianxia, perfection was the only option.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Hua Cheng was exceedingly frustrated. No matter what Hua Cheng tried, he could not visualize Dianxia’s face, and as such, could not represent it perfectly. He tried his best to remember that dream from long ago, scanning through his memory for any hints, but he always came back empty handed.The only clear memory he had was of His heartwarming smile and soft spoken words:

‘I’ll be waiting for you, San Lang.’

Hua Cheng couldn’t help but to shiver in anticipation at the thought of meeting Him again.

“I'll set you free. Please do not worry. You are safe in my hands, my Dianxia.” Hua Cheng spoke to the marble, hand gently caressing His stretched arm and feeling the cold, smooth marble against his fingertips. He didn’t care if there wasn’t a response right now—His God would keep his word. They had made a promise to each other to meet again. Dianxia promised.

“Shifu?”

Hua Cheng had been so focused on the statue that he did not notice when Yin Yu entered the studio, standing right at the door with a tray of things in his hands. Time must have flown by again—a whole day’s worth of incense sticks must have burned by now.

Yin Yu made it a habit to check in on his Shifu during these times. Usually, when Hua Cheng was inspired, he had a tendency to hole himself in his studio for days on end, only leaving for essential needs. However, if left to his own devices, the sculptor would forget about even the need to eat altogether.

But… lately Yin Yu was growing more and more concerned over Shifu's health. Sure, his teacher was quite the odd character, but Yin Yu was not familiar with this new side of Hua Cheng. He had witnessed his fits of passion and inspiration before—it was awe inspiring to the young artist. But this was not like anything he’d seen in the years under his tutalage. It was as if his passion had possessed him, making his poor master seem like he had shifted from ‘very inspired’ to ‘utter lunacy’. These past few months, Yin Yu had taken charge of even more of the household duties upon Hua Cheng beginning to neglect them. This included responding to anyone inquiring about the artist, including messages from the imperial palace. No rumor went unheard in Jun Wu’s domain, and so naturally questions about Hua Cheng’s state began to arise. Ling Wen had even visited in person not too long ago to check on Hua Cheng's progress and to inquire about his well being. All Yin Yu could do was make an excuse that his Shift was currently ill, and turn her away. It was a stressful situation for the tired young man, but nonetheless, it had to be done.

Tonight was like any other: the disciple would walk through the courtyard to make sure that his Shifu was at least breathing. Sometimes, Yin Yu found himself afraid to open the door, anxious of what he might find this time.

Today was no different. Yin Yu peeked inside of the studio from the crack of the door, not allowing himself to be seen.

What awaited him was worse than he thought.

If the studio had been a mess before, then this was pure chaos incarnate. The student had to lift his oil lantern to illuminate the dimly lit studio—the only source of light came from the prayer candles all around the unfinished statue. Then, beyond that, he saw a mass grave of figures piled high. Pieces ranging from legs to faces to flowers joined together in this grave—all seemingly failed sculptures abandoned by Hua Cheng. Dozens of half completed faces lay forgotten on the floor, their faces smashed apart from Hua Cheng's anger and frustration. But despite the mess that consumed the studio, the area surrounding the main sculpture was eerily clean. No trace of dust, debris, nothing. Hua Cheng dared not have the area near his Dianxia’s vessel filthy. Anything that was in a small radius of the statue was cleaned to a shine.

The one exception was the artist himself. If Yin Yu didn’t know any better, he would mistake his Shifu for a beggar from the streets that had broken in. Hua Cheng’s infamous red robes were worn and stained. His long and beautiful hair now had a shine from being unwashed for so long, and his normal messy braid looked tangled and almost matted from lack of care. There was a wild, almost feral look in the artist's eye, rabid from the obsession that coursed through his veins. While Hua Cheng would call it a blessing, to Yin Yu, it seemed more like a curse that had overtaken his poor Shifu…A curse that Yin Yu was afraid that might be too late to cure.

He should have spoken up sooner… he should have done something to prevent this. Maybe if he had seen the signs earlier, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this bad. Yin Yu had admired this man from a young age for his talent, his demeanor, and his personality. It drove him to become his one and only disciple. Even if there wasn’t a cure to this curse, Yin Yu still had to attempt one. He would do anything if it meant getting his Shifu back. He had to try.

“Shifu?”

“I am so close, so close yet so far. Please, please forgive this one's slow pace, Dianxia,” Hua Cheng muttered in front of the unfinished marble.

“S-Shifu?”

Yin Yu’s call fell on deaf ears. The only voice Hua Cheng listened to was the calling of the stone—everything else faded away from existence. The only response he was met with was the sound of chisel meeting stone and the continued self rambling. If it weren't for the windows already being open, clouds of marble dust would have been all over the place, suffocating all who were inside.

The poor apprentice sighed in exhaustion before trying to get his attention one more time, this time a bit louder in hopes that he would be heard.

“Shifu.”

The sound of the chisel stopped momentarily—a sign of acknowledgement. This was his chance.

“Shifu. I-”

“Not now, Yin Yu.” Hua Cheng's voice was filled with irritation. How dare he interrupt him and his muse? Couldn’t he see that he was busy creating perfection? He thought his student knew better, but since he was here, Hua Cheng might as well know what he wants now. “Nevermind, what do you want?” he asked. Not once did the sculptor stop to look at his student. Carving out individual strands of His hair was much more important right now.

The student paused for several seconds, thinking about his choice of words before speaking up.

“Shifu, you haven’t come out in weeks. You are not eating your meals properly. I thi-”

Hua Cheng interrupted him, the annoyance in his tone growing even more obvious. “If this is about dinner, you can just leave the tray by the door like usual.” Not once did the chisel stop for Yin Yu’s words, hitting the marble in a frenzy of inspiration.

‘Leave it by the door? He must be joking,’ Yin Yu scoffed mentally. Many times Yin Yu had tried that, in hopes that his Shifu would eat properly, only to come back hours later to still find the same tray left mostly untouched. The rare times that he saw a few dishes emptied or picked on were now considered a blessing to the disciple.

“Shifu, you haven’t been eating properly. You should take a break and join me inside. I’m sure a meal would h-”

Once again the artist cut him off without a care. “I can’t leave now. Not while I am here with Him. I still haven’t freed Him, Yin Yu.” Hua Cheng looked up at the faceless statue with awe. “I promised Him.” His mind brought him back to the horrid nightmare from many moons ago, his beloved Dianxia’s hand reaching out to him. Hua Cheng would never forget the sadness that dwelled in him for not being able to save Him then. But all of those feelings would change. Hua Cheng would be the one to save Him, to protect Him. It was his sole duty to free him from His prison, to ease His suffering.

“Dianxia has done nothing but inspire this one's creativity. He has become my muse, He–”

“SHIFU, THERE IS NO ONE THERE!” Yin Yu yelled. Anger, confusion, and sadness took over him at that moment. Yin Yu’s frustration boiled inside of him until it couldn’t be contained anymore—he'd had enough. “There is no Dianxia, Shifu! I don’t understand! Who are you talking about? Who are you worshiping? We are the only ones here!”

The audacity of Yin Yu to disregard Dianxia’s presence made Hua Cheng's blood boil. He dared say that in front of Him? Was his student that blind?

“Do you not see him right in front of you?!” Hua Cheng screamed, gesturing wildly at the sculpture behind him. Out of anger, the artist threw his chisel directly at Yin Yu, but missed terribly. Anger seeped from every pore of his body.

“How can you be my student when you can’t even acknowledge the presence of God?”

“Because there is no God here!” Yin Yu yelled.

‘Of course He is here, He is standing right in front of is. Standing so elegantly, so patiently and understanding. He IS here…’

‘Right?’

Hua Cheng opened his mouth to argue his statement but before he could utter another word, Yin Yu continued.

“Ever since you were given this commission, you have been acting strange. Everyone is out here while you have locked yourself up to talk to ghosts and stone. Everyone is talking about you. There are rumors about you, Shifu. The palace has been asking questions, and I’ve run out of excuses to give. Shifu, I need to understand.” Yin Yu was desperate to understand.

Hua Cheng stilled. For years, he had taught Yin Yu how to understand art, but faith? How could one even begin to explain the gravity of it all…his dreams, his devotion, his love, his God? Hua Cheng stood silent under Yin Yu’s troubled gaze as he scrambled to collect his scattered thoughts. He had so much to say.

“At the start of this project my mind, body, and skill betrayed me. No matter what I did, no matter how many different ways I went about it, my vision would never come to frutition. No matter how much I planned, drew, or sculpted, it all fell through the cracks. I was lost and couldn’t find my way out of the dark. I was falling, with an endless darkness awaiting for me below. But then He came. A beautiful, kind deity fluttered down from the heavens to save me and hold me safe in his arms. He may have only appeared in my dreams, but I knew it was God when I saw him, Yin Yu. He came to me.”

Hua Cheng paused for a moment to look up at the faceless statue with a crazed look of adoration. Even in His incomplete state, Hua Cheng fell in love each time he looked at Him, over and over. “To save Him from His stone confines is the least I can do as His most devout worshiper.”

Yin Yu was speechless. None of this made sense to Yin Yu. Of course it didn’t. The more his master rambled on about his vision and prophetic dreams, the more it broke Yin Yu’s heart. To see the man he’s looked up to in shambles devastated the poor student.He may be talking to Hua Cheng now, but the Shifu he grew to know and love was gone. Yin Yu missed his Shifu. All of this because of a God that appeared in his dreams? A God that may not even be real?

“Shifu…I...”

“Don't you get it?” Hua Cheng said. “It's my sole duty, this is my life's work, Yin Yu. I can’t leave now, not when I’m so close. I can hear him, calling to me from the stone. I know it's Him, I just know it.”

“Do you think this is what He wants?” Yin Yu retorted.

Silence overtook the studio. Hua Cheng was at a loss for words. Of course Hua Cheng knew what He wanted. His Dianxia—his God—had revived his passion and gave him a new purpose. He showed him kindness, grace, and power. Creating the perfect vessel was the least this devout follower could do for Him.

Yin Yu continued, not giving his Shifu a chance to reply. “Do you think your Dianxia would appreciate this?” Yin Yu gestured to the incomplete statue behind them. “Do you think a self-proclaimed worshiper such as yourself should be in the presence of the divine looking like this? Do you think He enjoys watching you deteriorate? What would He say about this? What does this say about you, Shifu?”

Yin Yu’s words brought a painful sting to them. Hua Cheng was rendered speechless once more, and he began to think more deeply about what Yin Yu meant. Each word his disciple said had sowed a seed of doubt into his mind, sprouting many troubling questions:

‘What does this say about me?’

‘What does He think of me?’

Hua Cheng tried to uproot the weeds growing in his mind. No, this doubt was all false. Dianxia would understand. After all, this was all for Him.

“Shifu, I’m worried about you. Everyone is worried about you!”

“You don’t need to worry! I’m–”

The loud clang of doors slamming open startled both men from their heated argument. In the midst of all of these emotions, a gust of wind came rushing through the half-opened doors, and fresh peonies invaded the space of the studio. But those sweet petals avoided the space around Hua Cheng entirely. They did not go anywhere near him—instead, they floated and danced around Yin Yu. Hua Cheng's eyes widened at this.. He grew intensely jealous. Those flowers he had come to associate with his God should have reached out to him to give him gentle encouragement, motivating him, and bringing him to ease when he needed it the most. And yet this time, Diancia had seemingly chosen his disciple.Some of the flowers landed on Yin Yu’s shoulders, like a soft reassurance.

The sudden entrance of the flowers left Yin Yu rather speechless—not once had it been windy today, but now of all times, the wind had chosen to pick itself up? There was something strange about these peonies from the moment Shifu had begun his work…Yin Yu wasn’t blind. The ancient tree was in a constant state of bloom without any signs of decay. The petals that danced around him brought Yin Yu a sense of validation. It felt as it whatever, whoever this was, was agreeing with him. It was strange, but the presence made Yin Yu feel confident. Maybe his shifu’s Dianxia was real, after all.

Hua Cheng, knowing he was forsaken, dropped to his knees. The chisel and hammer fell from his hands unceremoniously, leaving a loud clang in their wake. Yin Yu was right. How could he love, adore, and worship Dianxia in this condition? Hua Cheng looked at his own shaking hands with disgust. Had Dianxia been disappointed in him? The thought of it made the artist's heart sear in pain.

After much resistance, the artist seemed to have caved to his student’s demands. At the sight of his Shifu’s defeat, Yin Yu weaved through the graveyard of marble to assist him. Even if he didn’t fully get through to his master, he would take this moment as a victory. At this point, just getting him to bathe was a miracle. He didn’t know how his Shifu was able to work, let alone stand, in this condition. The sight of his master's disrepair made Yin Yu want to cry. Once Yin Yu reached him, he helped the man to his feet before guiding him out of the studio. Hua Cheng gave one last pitiful look towards his incomplete Dianxia before allowing Yin Yu to escort him back into the house.

Having been in the studio for so long, Hua Cheng had almost forgotten the layout of his own home, each hallway confusing his tired mind. They weaved through the halls, one after another, before reaching the large bathing room. It seemed that Yin Yu had already drawn up a bath, hoping he was skilled enough to convince his master to come and clean himself. The bath was lavishly prepared; soaps, oils, and herbal mixes were already prepared for use. Yin Yu had even set aside a towel and red silken sleepwear for the artist. Steam filled the room. The feeling of its warmth could easily put anyone at ease, which was something Yin Yu felt that his Shifu desperately needed.

“I can manage from here Yin Yu,” Hua Cheng said. “You may go now.”

The disciple was very hesitant to leave his Shifu alone in this state. He didn’t want to think his Shifu would do anything irrational, but the possibility was still there considering how he’d been behaving recently. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew that he would be kicked out eventually, so he didn’t fight it. “I will be back in a bit then… Shifu, please excuse me.”

When Hua Cheng knew that he was alone, he let out a deep and exhausted sigh.

Hua Cheng slowly stripped himself of his filthy garments, tossing the fabrics at the entrance of the bath as he walked towards the tub's steps. The warm water soothed his aching muscles— months of endless straining and work had taken its toll on them. Once in the water he began to tend to his body, using the oils and soaps his apprentice provided to wash himself. The most time consuming part was his hair, which required intense washing and detangling, but it had to be done.

When the work was done, Hua Cheng laid in the bath comfortably and let his mind and body wander. His eyes trailed down to see the familiar pink petals gently waving across the bathwater, gently kissing his submerged hands. His heart couldn't help but flutter at the sight of them. Yin Yu had picked a few fresh blooms to add some aromatherapy to the bath. There were other plants and herbs in the bath as well, but Hua Cheng's only focused on the scent of His flowers. Their presence worked as a remedy for the tired artist.

In the depths of his subconscious, he could almost hear Him. A soft and concerned voice washed over him.

‘Please rest, San Lang.’

For the first time in months, Hua Cheng finally allowed himself to rest.

When Yin Yu returned to check on his Shifu, he was met with a rare sight. There in the bath was his Shifu, resting peacefully in the warm water . His half submerged hand still held some of the soaked petals, some swirling in the warm water, while the others rested on his wrist and forearm. At the sight of this, Yin Yu couldn’t help but to smile softly. Just as he had never seen the desperate side of his Shifu before, this was also the first time he'd seen him in such a calm state. If it wasn't for the fact that he was sleeping in the bath, Yin Yu wouldn’t dare to disturb him from such a peaceful nap.

Ever so quietly, the young apprentice made his way over, placing a hand on Hua Cheng's shoulder to gently rouse him from his slumber. “Shifu, it's not safe to sleep here.”

“Mmn..” The artist didn’t open his eyes, just nodded lazily at Yin Yu’s words.

“Shifu, it's time to get out. You can rest in your room once you’ve dried off and dressed yourself.”

“Mmn…”

Slowly, Yin Yu helped his teacher out of the bath, getting wet in the process. After a slight struggle to get him out of the large tub, Yin Yu wrapped the towel around his wet body to dry him off. Normally, Hua Cheng would push his disciple away before stating that he could do this on his own, but right now, he had no energy left in him to fight back. He was completely at Yin Yu’s mercy, letting his disciple dress him and guide him out of the bathroom. It was almost saddening for the young man to see what was now a husk of the talented artist he called his Shifu.

The minute poor Hua Cheng’s body felt the silken sheets of his bed, it didn’t take long for him to succumb to his exhaustion. The stress, obsession, and lack of personal care for months now had driven the poor artist to complete exhaustion.

Right as Yin Yu began to leave the room, he stopped at the sight of the open bedroom window where a gentle breeze entered. Strange…he swore he had closed this window when he was preparing the room earlier. Maybe the stress of the situation was playing tricks on the poor student’s mind, too. Yin Yu re-entered the room to close the window to assure that his Shifu would not grow cold. But before the window was closed, the soft breeze also brought in some of the flowers from the courtyard tree, landing ever-so-gracefully on his Shifu's bed

Yin Yu was stunned at the sight. These coincidences were too uncanny. Whether or not there was a ‘Dianxia’, Yin Yu remained unsure. But someone—or something—was looking out for the artist, and these peonies were some sort of sign. They had to be…right? Yin Yu looked at his sleeping Shifu once more. Not even the heavens could rouse him from his deep slumber, something that the apprentice was happy about.

“Goodnight, Shifu,” Yin Yu said softly, before closing the window, and then the door behind him.

‘Goodnight, San Lang,’ a silent voice followed

❁

After Yin Yu's successful intervention, things seemed to turn for the better. For several days, Hua Cheng did not enter the studio. On these afternoons, he was seen lounging in the courtyard against the strong trunk of the ever-blooming tree. He still worshiped his Dianxia daily, having made a smaller altar right in front of the tree. Each day he would offer incense and fruits to the tree, and felt his devotion rewarded with His calming presence. He still had days where he worked on projects, but he worked out of the studio— often in the courtyard, in the tree's presence.

Despite not working inside of the studio, the progress continued.

Even though he had been working tirelessly on the sculpture within the studio, a fresh new block of marble had been hauled out to the center of the courtyard for them to work on. Day and night, Crimson Rain would work on the commission tirelessly. With the assistance of Yin Yu, he was able to chisel, sand, and grind the marble into his own image. Some days they worked on the base, while others they would hoist one another up on pulleys to work on the intricate details high above the ground. Yin Yu made sure that breaks were taken often, whether it was a meal under the peony tree, or to discuss and critique certain parts of the project. Despite Hua Cheng’s arrogant attitude at times, he seemed to enjoy the peace of sharing his love and devotion for the project with his assistant.

Then, finally, the day had come. The project was finally complete.

Yin Yu stood next to his Shifu at the palace, standing silent with pride. He had been excited for this day for so long. Despite everything that had happened, having assisted his Shifu in the creation of this masterpiece made him feel proud to be under his tutelage. All these years of practice and hard work were finally paying off, and Yin Yu couldn't be happier.

“You have taken quite some time with this project, Crimson Rain Sought Flower,” the Emperor said.

“How couldn’t I, Your Highness? You asked for perfection, so perfection you shall receive. I am always a man of my word,” the sculptor replied, smirking as he placed a cup of wine up to his lips.

Jun Wu had invited the people to bear witness to his commission, and civilians of every walk of life came from near and far to view this creation. Hua Cheng knew that this was just a ploy to gain the favor of the masses, but he stayed quiet. This was a moment that many had been waiting for. The completion of the statue had been the talk of the kingdom, and to see Hua Cheng himself at the reveal was exciting in itself. Having disappeared for many seasons, many had thought the worst, but seeing him here, alive and well, brought ease to the people.

In the center of the pavilion, the sculpture stood hidden under giant tarps of fabric. The statue was of an enormous size—several times taller than the artist. Hundreds of people gathered all around, eager to take a peek of what was hidden behind the massive tarps. With the sheer amount of fabric concealing the figure, one couldn't even guess the pose or subject if they tried. All they knew was that this was definitely something grand and special.

Jun Wu cleared his throat and spoke to the masses below, a smile on his face.

“I am honored to be in the presence of my people on this special occasion. Today we celebrate unity and appreciation for the arts. Our fine artists bring us joy and peace amongst even the most troubled of times. Our kingdom’s greatness rivals that of even the heavens, and I have commissioned one of our finest sculptures to showcase the meaning of that greatness. Today, the Imperial Palace welcomes a new creation brought to us by the renowned Crimson Rain Sought Flower.”

A small hand gesture signaled the royal servants to pull on the large ropes that kept the sculpture hidden.

As fabric slipped from the marble, all were surprised at what was revealed before them.

It was not the nude that Hua Cheng had planned.

It was not of a powerful Fu Dog, nor of dancing ladies, nor a large Jade Dragon. It wasn't a grand statue of the Emperor himself, either.

It was, in fact, Hua Cheng’s vision of the embodiment of the Heavens itself.

There, in front of the masses, stood a beautiful deity surrounded by flowers. The vast amount of detail at such a large scale was breathtaking. From the folds of his robes, to the individual strands of hair that floated gently in the air, to the gentle smile atop his lips…all was sculpted meticulously. The deity was beautiful and princelike: a darling of the Heavens. The sculpture brought out many gasps from the large crowd as they gazed at this beauty in awe.

But He was not the only subject displayed—a smaller figure was also sculpted, nestled right in Dianxia’s arm. Both figures came together to form a beautiful scene with a heartfelt story: A dazzling God, coming down from Heaven to rescue this young child by taking him gently into His protection. In one hand He held a sword, a symbol of power, while in the other He held an innocent child, representing His peace and kindness. It was clear now why Crimson Rain had taken such a long time—sculpting such perfection would no doubt take a Godly amount of time.

As the crowd took in the awe and beauty of the work, Hua Cheng sought the opportunity to speak.

"Many of you have been wondering what I had planned for such a great event. Don't think that I haven't heard the murmurs of you townspeople snooping near my property.” He could hear a few chuckles weaved into the crowd.

“His Highness the Emperor tasked me with creating a beauty that mirrors the heavens. As I thought about possible subjects, my mind kept circling back to gods and leadership. To a true leader, everyone is worth something. Worth being saved, loved, warmed and cared for. A kind being who pours His heart out for the people who prays for their well being and their blooming success like those of the peony trees in this courtyard.”

“‘What matters is you, not the state of you.’...That is the perspective of true benevolence."

“It is my hope that our great people will…continue… to witness a soft and gentle leader who can truly understand and care about our hardships. A leader that will come in our future, just as heavenly as the gods above.”

He looked up at the massive statue, and from the depth of the crowd one could see the softest smile appear on the artist's face. A look of admiration and devotion.

“I title this: Tiazi Dianxia: Body in Abyss, Heart in Paradise.”

At the end of his speech, there was a pause of silence before the crowd below erupted into cheers and applause toward the sculptor and his creation.

Jun Wu stood there as his subjects before them praised the artist and his beautiful commission. His smile appeared soft from afar, but looking closely, the corners of his lips were stiff.

After the commission’s reveal came the after party. The Emperor had arranged a large banquet of food and drink for his guests. Hua Cheng and Yin Yu stayed at the festivities for some time to eat, drink, and mingle. The artist received thousands of compliments from both nobles and common folk alike. Jun Wu was nowhere to be seen—perhaps too embarrassed to show himself after his attempt to defame Hua Cheng had spectacularly backfired into being criticized himself. …At least, that’s what Hua Cheng hoped for in his mind.

At the end of the festivities, the artist and his disciple headed back home together in their ox cart. Yin Yu was so excited about the completion, and he raved on and on about the details of the sculpture and Jun Wu’s reaction, making the artist chuckle in response. For once, it was nice to leave the estate—Hua Cheng had forgotten what it was like to venture outside its walls. Though after having to converse with many of the kingdom's elites, he was happy to finally return to the quiet comfort of home.

Besides, there was someone waiting for him there.

He couldn’t keep Him waiting any longer.

Once they arrived home, they boarded the ox and walked through the vast courtyard of the estate. The peony tree greeted them with its everlasting scent. “That was fun, Shifu, but I’m tired. I will be heading to bed soon.” There was a strange silence. Yin Yu was awaiting some sort of verbal aknowledgement, like a “mn.” or even a “goodnight.” When he turned around to face his Shifu, his stomach tightened into knots. He saw Hua Cheng facing towards the butterfly engraved doors of the studio.

“Yin Yu, go ahead and rest. You’ve done good work today. I’ll be here for a little bit. There's something I must attend to,” Hua Cheng said softly, his attention placed on the silver butterflies on the doors.

Yin Yu tensed. At that moment, Yin Yu’s worries returned to him. Yin Yu wanted so much to say “no,” to drag him back inside the estate like he had done before. He was scared that he would lose his Shifu to that frenzied madness of ‘devotion’ once again, and this time for good. These past months, working together on such a grandiose project had meant the world to him. Seeing his Shifu smile during their critiques—even if it was for a split second—was something special. But a strangely familiar feeling of reassurance returned to the disciple. He couldn’t help but to look back at the ever-blooming tree in their courtyard.

“Please take care of him,” Yin Yu said towards the tree, unsure of who he was talking to, but knowing that he was talking to someone.

Once Yin Yu had retired for the night, Hua Cheng prepared an oil lantern. As he lit the match to light the flame, his mind was elsewhere.

When he reached the doors of the studio, there was a long pause as he placed his hand against the door. He gently opened one of the studio doors, peeking his head through the small crack as if not to disturb the studio's resident. He stayed like this for several moments before opening the doors fully.

He took a few steps inside, raising his lamp to illuminate the dark studio. A soft smile grew on his lips at the sight before him, and in the softest voice he could muster, he whispered:

“Dianxia, I’m home.”

There, in a gentle veil of moonlight, stood his beloved Dianxia. He had been standing there for months, waiting patiently for His creator to come back, to etch the final details onto His form. The soft, delicate details of Dianxia were nearly complete, from the top of his flowing hair to the bottoms of his delicate feet. Only his face remained blank.

Hua Cheng approached the sculpture, kneeling before Him in prayer. He thanked Him for granting him so much inspiration in the last few months, and apologized for keeping Him waiting for so long. Incense sticks and candles were lit to provide offerings and light to the sculpture.

He picked up his tools and began to chisel at the marble once more. The entire time, Hua Cheng was silent, solely focused on His face. It had to be perfect, for the words of God were perfect, and anything less would be an unacceptable, unsuitable vessel for Him.

Hours passed, and night had transformed into day. Warm rays of the sun greeted Hua Cheng through the open doors and windows of the studio.

Hua Cheng gently tapped the marble with the tip on his chisel one last time before finally setting his tools aside. He was finally complete. After what seemed to be an eternity, his Taizi Dianxia was finally displayed in all His glory.

This sculpture had to be, by far, Hua Cheng's most intricate and most intimate work—his magnum opus. Beautiful long hair cascaded down His back and shoulders, each strand meticulously sculpted to perfection. The base of the statue had transformed into a large, blooming peony. Dianxia’s feet barely grazed the petals below Him; only the ends of His divine cloth kissed the tips of the flower.

Those same peonies that aided Hua Cheng in his journey decorated the figure from head to toe.

Divine royalty such as Dianxia was deserving of being adorned in the finest of precious jewels. Hua Cheng had gone through his personal jewelry collection to hand-select pieces that he then ingrained into the marble. He did not care that he would no longer be able to wear them himself; he would gladly give all his worldly possessions for someone like Him.

After his work was complete, Hua Cheng diligently began to clean the rest of the studio, finally making order of the chaos left from his previous neglect. Floors were swept, materials were put in their proper places, instruments were washed, and debris was disposed of. Hua Cheng could not bear the thought of His Dianxia setting his perfect feet onto a dirty floor. Hua Cheng would be embarrassed and ashamed of himself for letting his savior, his crowned prince, and the love of his life, see the utter mess he himself had caused. Finally, the studio was spotless, ready for Dianxia to bring His stone vessel to life.

So Hua Cheng waited.

And waited.

And waited.

But nothing happened. No one came.

His voice didn’t come, His soft embrace never arrived.

There was only silence in the studio, even as Hua Cheng prayed for more.

Hua Cheng was alone.

Hua Cheng fell onto his knees, not caring if the floor scraped them. Even if his knees bled from the rough ground, he would not react to it—his body was not important. It never was. Bodily pain could not compare to the ache in his heart.

This was no longer about insulting Jun Wu. This had become so much more than that. Hua Cheng no longer cared about the Emperor, money, nor his reputation. Those things were all just frivolous, petty desires held by the old Hua Cheng. Even if he made other statues, they did not hold any sort of importance to him.

Within Dianxia’s presence, nothing else mattered. With Dianxia, Hua Cheng was made anew. Made complete.

So why was his heart still so full of emptiness?

“Why can’t I hear you? Why won't you come out?” He whimpered, his voice barely making an echo in the vast studio. As expected, the statue remained silent—it had no voice of its own. Hua Cheng didn’t understand. He had done everything right, hadn’t he? He had casted away all other needs, all other duties. He had waited for so long, oh so very long, to meet Him once more. Here, in his world.

His thoughts become frantic.

‘Was the marble not to your liking?’ ‘Did I do something wrong?’

‘Say something, please.’

‘Please.’

‘Please!’

But the statue stayed silent, His lips as still as they were the moment they were sculpted. Hua Cheng didn't know whether to scream, cry, or both. The silence was killing him. He wanted to—no-—he needed to hear His voice again. Even if no one else believed in Dianxia, even if they called Hua Cheng mad for the rest of his life…to hear Him say something, anything, Hua Cheng would accept it all.

Hua Cheng clung to the marble cloth with desperation, hands sliding down from the smooth stone. His audience of unfinished stone figures looked at his tragic display, their still eyes looking at him with pity. They quietly listened as Hua Cheng wept loudly in the studio, mixes of painfully sad pleas and prayers echoing from the obsidian walls.

He looked up at the unmoving statue above him, his tear-stained eye blurring his vision.

“God,” he choked, using every fiber of his being to pull the words out of his mouth.

“Won't you listen to this miserable San Lang’s prayer? I promise I will not ask more of you. Your most Devoted…”

The feeling of hands gently cupping his face froze him in place. This touch, this feeling of familiarity… The scent of peonies that occupied the studio was stronger than before.

‘Could it finally be…?’

When he looked up, it was as if he had suddenly forgotten how to breathe. Hua Cheng dared not let out even a single breath at the sight before him. The hands that cupped his face ever-so-gently were not those of smooth marble, but of skin, soft and warm to the touch. He could feel the dainty fingernails he had sculpted himself gently tracing his cheeks. The touch was nothing like stone. It felt real. Alive.

Dianxia.

He was here.

He was alive.

His prayers were finally answered.

Hua Cheng watched in awe as the marble transformed before his eyes. Ivory white gradually began to disappear, replaced with the warm color of skin. That color and warmth spread from His hands, to His arms, to His chest, where Hua Cheng watched his creation take His first breath of air. The gentle rising and falling of His chest caused Hua Cheng’s heart to skip a beat. His face was the last part to be freed from the stone.

Life continued to spread throughout the sculpture. Each individual strand of hair darkened to a beautiful brown like that of dark wood, swaying in the light breeze brought from the open windows. The floral base of the statue bloomed, too.

Then finally, His eyes opened for the first time, revealing a beautiful set of golden irises. The color was so warm.

Quickly, Hua Cheng rose to his feet to help the deity steady himself as His limbs began to move more. The poor man struggled to obtain balance. Having been born from stone, His limbs had yet to gain much flexibility.

Hua Cheng began to panic internally as he realized: ‘I did not think this through. He’s naked. I left God naked!’ Despite Hua Cheng’s cool demeanor, he was screaming internally at the situation at hand.

When he was in the process of sculpting His figure, Hua Cheng was so focused on shaming the Emperor that he had forgotten all about providing appropriate clothing for Dianxia. Now, here He was, with only a long sheet of fabric barely covering Him up. In an instant, he shed his outer robe to wrap around Dianxia’s body. The thought of actually seeing his savior nude made Hua Cheng quite flustered. How could he be so indecent as to sculpt Him without clothes!? He was ashamed of himself.

While Hua Cheng scolded himself, soft laughter emanated from the figure before him. Dianxia gracefully pulled the outer robe around Him closed, and put a gentle hand on Hua Cheng's shoulder, as if to console him.

"Dianxia, I'm sorry, this one will get you clothes right aw-"

Dianxia laughed again, and motioned for Hua Cheng to quiet with the shake of his head.

"You are too formal, San Lang. I'm fine. And also, please call me Xie Lian from now on, will you?"

“Xie Lian…” The name rolled off his tongue so smoothly. It was a beautiful name for someone as ethereal as Him. Hua Cheng could say it over and over again and never grow tired of it. Learning Dianxia’s true name felt like an honor, but despite His request, he dare not use it again. It didn’t feel right—he didn’t feel worthy of using God’s true name.

Xie Lian held onto the outer red rob gently, pulling it tighter on His nude body. The thought of his savior still being so exposed left the sculptor flustered, something that Xie Lian was amused by.

“Dianxia, please at least let me get you something to wear."

"San Lang, please. That title is so formal, I should be the one calling you that. You’re the one who brought me here after all.” Hua Cheng shook his head at Dianxia’s comment. He really hated to disagree with Him but that just wasn’t true at all. “Nonsense, no other name would suit your greatness. To use your name so casually, I couldn’t possibly do that, Dianxia.”

There was a bit of a pout on the deity's face. “Dianxia is so formal though, so far apart from you. If you insist on calling me something, maybe something less formal?” Hua Cheng thought for a moment, searching through his mind until something finally came to mind. He couldn’t help but to smile, a hint of mischief weaved in. “Then, how about Gege?”

The deity could feel his newly formed heart almost skip a beat. His cheeks began to brighten up to a light pink to match his equally flustered expression. Gege? He didn’t know whether he preferred this to the former name. He wanted to protest, but the sly grin on the sculptor's face told him that he wasn’t going to back down on titles. So Xie Lian sighed, a small and silent victory for the sculptor.

Xie Lian ignored the little smile on Hua Cheng’s face in favor of looking around the studio. He was expecting the chaotic mess of creativity he had long gotten used to, but to his surprise the studio was spotless save for a few spots where the artist had been chipping away desperately. This had been his home for the past year yet now he could roam around it freely. He inspected the small details of marble littered on the floor, the flowers, the candles, and the incense sticks that made his shrine. The deity found it rather sweet. All of this, for him? Xie Lian had many things he wanted to say, but the words never came out. It was the butterflies fluttering in his stomach preventing him from speaking. “I would rather you not stress about something so minor. Your robe is warm enough.Besides…”

Xie Lian looked back at the now-blooming pedestal he once stood on, his eyes soft in awe and wonder. His hand reached up to touch the delicate petals on the branches, causing the blooms to become even more vibrant than before. Each step he took created life, it was evident from the small patches of grass that were left behind where his footsteps would be.

There was a long silence in the studio. Creator and Masterpiece finally together at long last, yet no words could properly encapsulate what they each felt. Hua Cheng stood in reverence at the being before him. His chest tightened more and more, the lines between nervousness and excitement now blurred. He remained silent, not knowing what to say, any words he had died in his throat.

What could he say? What should he say?

Until finally Xie Lian broke the silence.

“At long last, I get to meet you without interruptions.” His hand reached to touch one of the blooms in Hua Cheng’s hair. To think that he was all marble just moments before, that he himself was inanimate.

“There is a sense of stillness that humans won’t ever understand. Being stone was almost like sleeping. I felt neither alive nor dead, I simply just existed. In a way it was almost peaceful, but it did get boring.” Xie Lian chuckled, a playful smile appearing on his lips.

“There were times that I just wanted to reach out and speak to you, but stone cannot speak. I mean, I suppose though it would be a little off putting if it could…”

With each word spoken, a heavy feeling of shame fell onto Hua Cheng. He hade been waiting this long to be freed. He had kept his Dianxia from experiencing what was rightfully His. It was all his fault. All these experiences He could have had earlier if it weren't for his slow progress. He knew he shouldn’t have taken all those breaks.

Those very same thoughts that he had worked to weed from his mind slowly returned. With each thought of guilt, the seeds burrowed deeper, beginning to take root in the young man's mind once more.

In an instant, the mighty Crimson Rain fell to his knees. His one eye looked down at his hands with utter disgust. At the sight of this, Xie Lian's face grew a look of concern,

“San Lang?”

“This one should be ashamed of himself,” Hua Cheng said, his tone grave.

"I should have made more statues, preached your love and kindness. I should have erected a temple in your name. The people should know of your love, your kindness.” He looked at his own hands in shame once more, these useless hands. He tried to conceal his emotions, but his expressions gave him away all too easily. His God was too kind, placating him for all the mistakes he had done. Mistakes that he shouldn’t even have made in the first place. “You deserve all of the followers. You deserve the world, Dianxia. I should hav-'' Hua Cheng was interrupted by the feeling of cool hands caressing his cheeks once more. His words died in his throat from such a simple touch. His touch.

“Oh, San Lang…” Xie Lian smiled softly, caressing Hua Cheng’s cheek tenderly. His eyes stared in awe at His creator, His San Lang. His admiration for the young man ran deep in his newly beating heart. God cupped the young man's face between His hands. He wished to hold him like this forever.

Hua Cheng couldn’t help but lean into His hands. The simple gesture from his beloved Dianxia gave him the strength to lift himself from the floor, making sure not to break away from His touch.

To be held once again by the hands that brought him comfort before was a blessing. He wanted more, he did not care if it was selfish of him.

“San Lang, you really need to stop this. It's not good for your health. I understand that inspiration can be rather intense. However, it should never come at the expense of your overall health,” the other said, scolding him gently like one would a child. His fingers gently pinched the other’s cheeks. “Living in the moment of inspiration is okay but to completely disregard food, water, and hygiene? San Lang, you should know better than that. If it wasn’t for your apprentice stepping his foot down, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“It pained me to watch as you destroyed yourself for my sake. If only I could have reached you in my incomplete form, perhaps you would have taken care of yourself sooner. You matter to me— your health, your body, your soul, all of it. All of you.”

Hua Cheng felt a pang of guilt hit his chest. The last thing he wanted was for God to worry about him, but the thought of being cared for by Him, adored by Him, loved by Him made his heart swell in size. He did not speak a word, his focus now was on each of His words.

“Just one follower is enough. The number of shrines I do and don’t have, whether I have thousands of followers or just you—It does not matter to me. Give yourself more credit. All that you have done for me—all of the hardship, passion, and dedication you have shown is more than enough. It doesn’t even matter if you are my ‘follower’. Would you also be my friend, San Lang? Would you also be…” Xie Lian’s voice trails off, His cheeks going rosy. He laughs at himself, and shakes His head. “All of this…What I mean to say is, you are enough. San Lang has prayed to me. But I have prayed for you. You are all that I have wished for.”

With each word spoken, Hua Cheng's heart swelled more and more. Those three little words playing on repeat in his mind.

‘You are enough.’

‘I am enough.’

“Gege…” He paused to take a moment to collect his words. The features on his face softened into a smile. All the guilt, the shame, the ego and stoicism had left the sculptor's body, only leaving a young man desperately in love.

"Only after I have met you did I rediscover that it's such a simple thing," Hua Cheng said, reaching up to take one of Dianxia’s hands to hold between his. He gently rubbed his thumbs on top of His delicate knuckles.

Xie Lian cocked his head to the side. "And that would be?"

"To be happy."

Xie Lian couldn't help but let out a small laugh at His creator's words, a big and bright smile appearing on His lips. His golden eyes were impossibly soft as they gazed at Hua Cheng. He was full of admiration. Full of love. Hua Cheng could see every emotion in those eyes, clear as crystal. He couldn’t help himself—Hua Cheng’s calloused hand traced his lips ever so gently. Those lips that he had meticulously sculpted for hours, now warm to the touch. Hua Cheng hesitated for a moment. To him it still felt like one of his dreams where he would wake up abruptly back to his lonesome bed. But the gentle touch of Dianxia’s palm on his cheek made it clear that this was all very real. Hua Cheng leaned forward, like a magnet was pulling him in.

“Now it is time for me to promise you the same, Gege. To make sure my God is always happy…” he said quietly to his God. He watched as Xie Lian flushed a pink as bright as the peonies He had been associated with, and was mesmerized at how the God’s eyes flickered down to Hua Cheng’s lips. He must have read Hua Cheng’s intent, for He gave a subtle nod, and let His beautiful eyes fall shut.

Distance was closed as their lips met at long last.

Xie Lian found the warmth of the kiss so comforting. Having met his creator at long last, to feel this gentle kiss on his lips was a dream come true. Unwilling to let go of this man that was finally his to hold, His hands carded through his believer’s jet black hair. With His touch, small peonies bloomed from within the sculptor's hair. For Hua Cheng, this was all he'd ever wanted. He no longer cared about fame, money, or his other work. His life's work was right here before him: The love of his life.

In this moment, it was only them in the world. Everything else faded to darkness.

No longer were they just Creator and Creation, nor just God and Worshiper. They were Lovers, sculpting into each other the love they held for one another.