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The gentle light of the sun draws Xie Lian from slumber.
A steady weight rests on his waist, comforting and secure - a reminder of the previous day. Robes of a familiar crimson floods his vision when he reluctantly surrenders to consciousness, and he smiles.
His beloved sleeps soundly before him, an uncharacteristic tranquillity gracing his countenance. Xie Lian allows himself to steep in the memories of last night, remembering the thousands of lanterns that embellished the starry skies, and the lone figure in red that stood before Puqi Shrine. The bone-crushing hug that Xie Lian had given him and the broken whispers of apologies from Hua Cheng that Xie Lian refused to accept.
Their love sealed with a kiss amongst the sea of lanterns and stars, passionate and gentle, without the exchange of spiritual energy. They fall asleep together wrapped fiercely in each others’ arms, neither willing to let go.
Xie Lian is more than content to watch Hua Cheng sleep. He knows it’s been years, perhaps even centuries, since Hua Cheng’s allowed himself the luxury of repose. Though Paradise Manor has a bedroom furnished with extravagant silks, the amount of times Hua Cheng’s slept on it could be counted with one hand.
A stray piece of hair finds its way into Hua Cheng’s face, and Xie Lian slowly raises a hand to lift it away. He had moved delicately, but to no avail.
“Gege?” Hua Cheng rumbles groggily, lazily blinking his eyes open before promptly squeezing them shut again.
“Good morning, San Lang. Did you sleep well?”
Hua Cheng smiles, eyes still closed. “Of course I did. Everything becomes better when gege is by my side.”
“The sun, on the other hand,” He grumbles. “‘s way too bright for this poor old ghost.”
Xie Lian chuckles softly, rising to pull the simple cotton curtains over the window.
“Better?”
“No,” Hua Cheng’s lips curl down into a pout. “Gege’s not beside me anymore.”
“San Lang,” Xie Lian chides fondly. “We can’t spend the whole day in bed.”
Hua Cheng tilts his head, or as much of it as he can while still lying down. “Why not?”
“I promised one of the farmers who broke his leg that I’d help him collect water today.”
“Is that it? But this San Lan is still exhausted,” Hua Cheng whines, trying his best to channel as much innocence into his eyes as possible.
Xie Lian sighs, feigning disappointment. “Well, San Lang doesn’t have to accompany me if he doesn’t want to. I can go alone.”
However, he isn’t one to tease, and the effect it has on Hua Cheng is instantaneous.
“Wait, gege, no!” Hua Cheng exclaims, scrambling to pull off the covers. In his haste, he ends up tangling his limbs in the cloth more, and it takes a while for him to finally kick off the covers. “I was just joking.”
“So was I.”
Hua Cheng’s eyes widen comically in disbelief, and Xie Lian makes no effort to hold back his laughter.
“Betrayed,” Hua Cheng complains exaggeratedly, hanging his head back with a hand on his heart. “By my own gege.”
“Come on, San Lang,” Xie Lian says, eyes still crinkled with amusement, well acquainted with Hua Cheng’s theatrics.
The time they’ve spent together as an official couple is short, but their actions show none of the clumsy movements that new lovers experience. Instead, they move seamlessly together, as if woven neatly by an experienced weaver. They take turns to comb the knots out of each other’s hair and tie it up in their preferred styles, even though Hua Cheng could’ve easily done so with a snap of his fingers. Xie Lian helps Hua Cheng with his sash and metal bracers, and Hua Cheng slips on Xie Lian’s outermost robe for him.
There is no awkwardness, no fear of infringing on the other’s boundaries.
As they step out the doors of Puqi Shrine - as they’ve done many times before - Xie Lian grabs onto Hua Cheng’s hand.
Hua Cheng freezes at first, looking at Xie Lian with traces of unease in his eyes.
Is it so wrong to want to hold my beloved’s hand? Xie Lian asks into their shared communication array.
The tension slides off Hua Cheng swiftly, and he tightens his grip around Xie Lian’s hand.
They stroll leisurely along the road to the river, two empty buckets suspended by a bamboo pole on Hua Cheng’s shoulder. Xie Lian fills the silence with the stories he’s accumulated over the year while waiting for Hua Cheng - which is quite substantial, given that the villagers love talking to him, meaning that he’s well informed of every little thing that happens - and Hua Cheng basks in the warmth of Xie Lian’s hand around his.
Xie Lian reluctantly lets go of Hua Cheng for him to draw the water when they reach the river. He watches their surroundings absently, mourning the loss of Hua Cheng’s hand as his lover fills the buckets with water when he spots something in his peripheral vision.
Red blends covertly amidst the tawny rocks. A less observant man wouldn't have noticed it, but Xie Lian is familiar with nature's temperament. It’s too dull to be part of the vermillion leaves that herald the coming of autumn, and too bright to be part of the rocks that guard the edges of the river.
He reaches out to it and pulls experimentally.
There’s some resistance as Xie Lian tugs. It has a decent weight to it, and Xie Lian curls his fingers instinctively around it to keep it from falling.
It’s only after he pulls it entirely from the rocks that he sees the familiar outline of a sword. Its exposure to the elements has left it a little worse for wear - bent, out of shape and flaking with rust - but its silhouette is unmistakably that of a sword.
“Gege? What’s that?” Hua Cheng calls, trudging over to where Xie Lian stood, buckets of water swaying from his shoulders.
“A sword, I think,” Xie Lian replies, not taking his eyes off the sword.
Hua Cheng hums as he hovers by Xie Lian’s side and peers over his shoulder. “What a find, gege. It must’ve belonged to royalty at some point.”
“How do you know?” Xie Lian asks curiously as they begin their trek back to the waiting farmer. “Would it have been before or after Xian Le?”
“Judging from the hilt, I’d wager before. But without the sheath, I can’t say,” Hua Cheng shrugs. “None of the weaponry from after Xian Le has this type of relief on the hilt.”
“San Lang is knowledgeable as ever,” Xie Lian praises, smiling as Hua Cheng preens himself smugly.
“This San Lang simply has an interest in fine weaponry,” Hua Cheng replies mysteriously. “Does gege want this sword?”
“Do you want it, San Lang?” he echoes back, knowing Hua Cheng wouldn’t take the sword if he had given a direct answer.
“En,” Hua Cheng responds, so easily and quickly that Xie Lian is slightly taken aback. “But if gege wants it, he can have it.”
“San Lang can have it,” Xie Lian says immediately.
Hua Cheng’s eyes brighten the way the village children do when Xie Lian sneaks them candy.
“Thank you, gege.”
“No need for thanks, San Lang,” Xie Lian admonishes gently. “It didn’t belong to me in the first place.”
Silver butterflies surround the edges of the sword, and it disappears from his hands with a bright flash.
“Still,” Hua Cheng insists as he takes Xie Lian’s empty hand in his again. “Gege found it first.”
The days with Hua Cheng pass by slowly.
Time tended to breeze by the older you became, but Xie Lian feels as if time has frozen for them. Their first autumn cruises slowly, and they take their time exploring together all the things that could’ve been, but weren't.
It’s a tantalising tune to fall into.
The languid warmth of mornings, the comforting breeze of the afternoon and even the colder nights. The constant presence of Hua Cheng, unwavering and steadfast.
The sword Xie Lian found is all but forgotten, swept away in a wave of new memories to cherish.
Then, as autumn nears its end, Hua Cheng whispers into Xie Lian’s ears as they stand amidst a flurry of golden and scarlet leaves.
“Gege,” he breathed, Xie Lian held tightly in his arms. “Let’s get married.”
Tender waves of love crash into Xie Lian, who pulls back slightly to look Hua Cheng in the eye.
“En. Let’s.”
They stay in each other's embrace, relishing the wind together.
But change is inevitable, no matter how long it takes to manifest.
As the winds turn colder and harsher, ushering in the long wintery nights, Hua Cheng makes frequent disappearances.
He slips off quietly when Xie Lian begins to fall into slumber, and returns in time to wake him with a morning kiss.
“San Lang, where are you going?” he asks groggily as he feels the weight beside him disappears, not yet fully asleep.
Hua Cheng has the decency to look abashed.
“There’s been disturbances in Ghost City,” he lies through his teeth, guilt threatening to constrict his throat. “I’ve been heading back to sort things out.”
The half life eases only a little of his guilt.
“Gege shouldn’t have to waste his time on such trivial matters,” he continues, hoping to lull Xie Lian back to sleep.
His heart breaks when Xie Lian simply nods in defeat. “Be safe, San Lang. Come back to me.”
Hua Cheng bends to place a gentle kiss on Xie Lian’s temples.
“Your Highness isn’t mad at me?” He whispers, forcing the words to leave his lips.
“What is there to be angry with?” Xie Lian asks, carding his fingers through Hua Cheng’s hair. “I trust you, San Lang. You have your duties as chengzhu. I’ll only get mad if San Lang comes back to me hurt, especially if I could’ve done something to prevent it.”
“I’ll be back, gege. Safe, sound and whole. This lowly one promises,” Hua Cheng replies, hoping that Xie Lian wouldn’t notice the shakiness in his voice.
“Mm,” Xie Lian hums. “Return soon, my love.”
“En. I will.”
Hua Cheng pads quietly out of the cottage before he disappears in a flutter of butterflies.
Paradise Manor forms before him, and he hurries through its halls to his studio. The rusted sword Xie Lian had found lies on his workbench, though it is not quite rusted any longer.
Instead, the blade gleams dimly under the light of the candles, having been carefully polished. Beside the sword, a selection of metals and quality woods are neatly arranged.
Hua Cheng begins to work. He starts with making a scabbard; taking an embarrassing amount of time to select a steel that would best suit the sword.
He eventually settles on a piece of steel and works through the night, meticulously carving in the design he’d come up with the night before. He eventually settled into the repetitive motions of etching, occasionally looking up at his design and comparing his work with it.
Yin Yu dutifully comes in to remind him of the time, and he clears up his work with a wave of his hand.
Dawn has not yet greeted Puqi Village when he appears by Xie Lian’s shrine. He slips in carefully, hoping not to wake his god, and snuggles soundlessly in the space Xie Lian had left for him.
He allows himself to nap while waiting for Xie Lian to rise, and their days continue as it had been before.
The farmers are no longer busy with their fields in the winter, which means Xie Lian receives less pleas for help. They spend their time huddled inside the shrine by a merry fire, and sometimes outside when the snow subsides.
Hua Cheng spends his nights cooped up in his studio, and his days beside his betrothed. They settle on having a simple ceremony, planned for the upcoming spring, just for the two of them.
It takes him the better half of winter to finally complete the finishing touches on the scabbard. With the bulk of the work done, the hilt is finished quickly.
His final touch to the sword is a tassel, woven out of the silk from the cocoons of his butterflies. He decides not to bother dying the silk, moving straight to making the tassel.
He attaches a piece of circular jade to the centre of the tassel, and uses a strip of gold to secure loose ends.
The sword is finally completed on a dark winter night, and Hua Cheng steps back to admire his handiwork.
The scabbard is mainly white, to complement Xie Lian’s preferred robes. Hundreds of tiny gold butterflies are intricately carved into the scabbard. The pale gold is subtle against the white scabbard, but it shines brightly under the harsh light of candles. Simple flowers adorn the hilt, with the occasional butterfly fluttering between them.
The grip is wrapped in white silk, and the tassel hangs gently from the pommel of the hilt.
He sheaths it back in its scabbard and returns to Puqi Shrine with a skip in his step.
The coming spring, they perform their three bows before the graves of Xie Lian’s parents.
With the final bow to each other, Hua Cheng takes Xie Lian’s hand in his.
“Gege. I have something for you,” he begins slowly. “Follow me back to Paradise Manor?”
Xie Lian nods, and their surroundings morph into the dark halls of Paradise Manor. He follows Hua Cheng to their armoury.
“Does gege remember the sword he found?” Hua Cheng begins, resting his hand on the handles of the door.
“En,” Xie Lian replies. “You kept it.”
Hua Cheng smiles. “That wasn’t the only thing this San Lang did,” he says cryptically, pushing the doors open for Xie Lian.
Xie Lian walks in, taking in the familiar sights of their armoury, until his eyes land on the newest addition. It’s propped up in the centre of the room, resting on a wooden stand. It’s also the only weapon adorned with lighter colours, making it stand out from the rest in the room.
“San Lang, this sword…” Xie Lian trails off, eyes tracing along the scabbard.
“A gift for gege,” Hua Cheng says. “A sword worthy of gege.”
“Does it have a name?” Xie Lian breathes, sliding his hand gently along the scabbard, hilt, and the white tassel that sways gently from the tip of the sword.
It’s cool to the touch, and his fingers brush along the grooves of the delicate engravings.
“Not yet.”
“A blade as fine as this requires a name,” Xie Lian mutters.
“Will gege do this San Lang the honour of naming it?”
“Are you sure?” Xie Lian asks uncertainly. “I’m afraid I may not be able to find a name worthy of it.”
“This blade is yours, gege,” Hua Cheng replies kindly. “Any name you bestow upon it will be a good one.”
Xie Lian’s brows furrow in concentration as he rakes through his mind for a suitable name. Hua Cheng waits patiently for him.
An idea strikes him like a bolt of lightning, and Xie Lian wonders how it took him half an incense worth of time to come up with it.
“Cheng Xin,” He declares.
A tender smile blooms on Hua Cheng’s face.
“Can this San Lang trouble gege to write it out on the blade, so he can engrave its name?”
“You can do that?” Xie Lian murmurs with awe.
“Of course.”
A brush and ink had already been laid out before them, presumably for this moment, and Xie Lian picks up the brush. He pushes his sleeve back with his free hand and begins to write.
The characters for Cheng Xin flow smoothly onto the cold steel of the blade.
Hua Cheng picks up a sharp needle and sets to work. Xie Lian watches with interest as Hua Cheng digs into the metal, following each stroke meticulously.
Dusting off the scraps of metal, Hua Cheng slides Cheng Xin back into its sheath and presents it to Xie Lian again, with both hands.
Xie Lian gracefully accepts the sword, before throwing his arms around Hua Cheng.
“Thank you, San Lang. It’s a beautiful sword. I hope to do it justice.”
“Nonsense. Gege deserves to wield a sword, even if there is no sword that is worthy of gege.”
Xie Lian shakes his head with a fond smile. “San Lang is being insincere.”
“Hardly. Gege could scour the world and sift the seas, and he would never find someone more sincere than I.”
“Besides,” he grins devilishly. “Gege just named his sword Cheng Xin, which was reforged by me. And if you do this,” Hua Cheng picks up the brush, and rewrites Cheng Xin on a piece of paper (albeit barely legible). “It’s my name, gege.”
“Is it not a fitting name?” Xie Lian asks, eyes twinkling with mirth. “This way, even if San Lang is caught up with his duties in Ghost City, I’ll always have you with me.”
“Gege knew I was lying this whole time?” Hua Cheng pouts. So much for subtlety , he groans.
“Mn.”
“It was meant to be a surprise,” Hua Cheng huffs, eyes narrowing. “Did anyone tell you?”
“San Lang lies well, but he wears his emotions on his sleeve,” Xie Lian replies. “I didn’t expect you to reforge Cheng Xin, though. I was still surprised by that.”
Hua Cheng sighs ruefully and Xie Lian reaches up to pat his head soothingly. “Cheng Xin is perfect, San Lang. Thank you.”
A gentle smile flits across Hua Cheng’s lips.
“May this humble one’s heart protect you with this blade.”