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"San Lang..." his god's voice was quiet, a soft murmur almost as gentle as his fingers through Hua Cheng's hair.
Hua Cheng wondered if Xie Lian wanted him to ignore that quiet whisper. Was this just an acknowledgment of the morning, warm as the sun peeking through the window to light their bed?
It was a tough situation for a devoted follower: should he ignore his god if that was his god's desire? If his god wished to whisper his name in the silence of the haven he had created for them, should a devoted follower pretend not to hear?
Hua Cheng resigned himself to yet another moment of gloriously conflicted torment; he could never disregard his name on his god's lips. "Dianxia?" The slightest pull on his scalp corrected him. "Yes, gege?"
"I would like...that is, if it isn't...I don't want to..." the quiet voice tailed off into a soft laugh. Ah, Hua Cheng's god was testing him today. How to answer a question that isn't asked?
"I will need a little more guidance than that, gege," Hua Cheng teased, and the fingers in his hair tightened delightfully. The thigh underneath his cheek did the same, and a flash of joyous lust almost distracted him from Xie Lian's second attempt.
"If you don't mind—"
"I don't."
"San Lang!" The tone was a laugh and a scold. "If it isn't too much trouble—"
"It isn't."
How could any request from his god be beyond Hua Cheng's abilities or willingness? But in truth he dared interrupt his god only for the huff of laughter it brought.
"San Lang, San Lang."
And how could so much love echo in his undeserving name?
"I would like to resume an important part of my cultivation. It...it may seem difficult at first, but it will make me stronger," Xie Lian's voice dropped even further, still laced with laughter, "and maybe stifle the endless grumbling voice of Guoshi in my head."
If Hua Cheng's heart still beat, it would have stopped, and if his blood still had any warmth, it would have run cold. They had only just...they were just figuring it out! They were getting pretty good at it! Well, there was still the issue of elbows. And knees. And, in each instance, a nose. But still! They had worked that out...mostly. He could improve! His highness should not give up on them, not yet, not ever...
"Gege, I can give you more power," he was already sitting up, leaning in for a kiss, trying to hide desperation behind a smile. Two fingers on his lips stopped him more surely than a sword.
"San Lang is very generous with his power, but this one would feel better regaining strength in a way that he first built it up." Xie Lian shrugged, his eyes suddenly flitting away. "This one...I..."
"Gege?" Hua Cheng's lips moved against Xie Lian's fingers like a prayer.
Xie Lian sighed. "I sacrificed...lost...many things in the years when I wandered. Some losses were good for me, teaching me to be less prideful, take less for granted—"
"Gege, you could never..." he silenced himself as his god's fingers pressed ever so slightly.
"But some losses I regret." Xie Lian's voice was gentle, contemplative, but yes...regretful.
Hua Cheng blinked through a sudden wash of disorientation. Whatever his highness, his god, wanted, that was what Hua Cheng wanted, too, of course.
How could he complain about losing one piece of perfection? Any moment with his god was perfection in all ways, and perfection couldn't be divided into pieces.
Their life together was not a patchwork of pleasures, to fall apart with one piece removed. Even if it was a really, really nice piece...
And after all, they'd only had this particular pleasure a few dozen times, not that Hua Cheng was even counting (he was counting, as he counted every laugh he earned, every kiss he gave.) What was a handful of moments of physical bliss (and many more of fumbling, awkward delight) compared to his god's happiness and health?
Although it had certainly seemed like it had contributed to his god's happiness and maybe even his health, especially after they figured out the basic mechanics. And Hua Cheng was quite sure he was improving on those mechanics. His highness had been happily vocal about it, just last—
"A transgression I accepted—because I was forced to do it, or I told myself I had no other choice—well, I would like to stop now."
Hua Cheng struggled to take the undead equivalent of a deep breath. He was a ghost king, with no pulse or inconvenient hormones to be affected by a sudden sense of loss. And what had he really lost, anyway? His god gave him delight in every moment and every way. Just minutes ago, Xie Lian's fingers in his hair had brought him close enough to perfect joy that he could have been at a real risk of dispersal, were it not for the constant knowledge that Hua Cheng did not deserve the bliss he was given. Really, it wasn't even a loss at—
"because I was forced to do it"
Forced. Forced?
Hua Cheng sat up so quickly that Xie Lian's hand caught painfully in his hair. Good. Good! There should be pain!
"Dianxia, what do you mean, you were forced?" Xie Lian's murmur of concern as he untangled his fingers from Hua Cheng's hair was lost as Hua Cheng slid down off the edge of the bed to kneel at his side. "Who—why—what forced you to..."
"Oh," Xie Lien laughed softly, dismissively. "There wasn't...I suppose I wasn’t...wasn't forced. I could have chosen otherwise. I could have...but hunger was an effective teacher. If Guoshi had only thought to starve me instead of making me recite—" his soft chuckle broke off at Hua Cheng's wordless grunt of denial. "Ah, San Lang, don't look so sad. Even when I starved to death, it didn't stick."
Hua Cheng had complete control over his appearance, managed every molecule of himself down to the finest eyelash, but something must have shown on his face that stopped his god's gentle ramble. Deep sorrow flashed in his god's eyes—unacceptable! unforgivable!—and then he was pulled into strong, warm arms.
"Ah, my San Lang, I'm sorry. We both know how it hurt." Xie Lian's heavenly body rocked them slowly together.
Hua Cheng remembered what it was like to starve, and he knew that his god grieved what he had suffered in that knowledge. Starvation, as he remembered it, was a long, lingering process worse than his actual death. The gnawing pain, the creeping weakness, the cold. Hua Cheng would have given anything—except his highness, except his god—to never have had that memory, himself. He would find a way to give even more, more than everything, if he could have ensured that his god never even suspected what it felt like to starve.
But of course his god also knew that pain. How many times, over the course of centuries, had Xie Lian suffered and starved? (Hua Cheng's own failure. How could he have left his god to starve?)
Even if Xie Lian thought he'd had a choice, even if he thought he had made a choice...a coerced choice was no choice at all.
How could Hua Cheng ever blame his god for trading whatever he had to stay alive? If Hua Cheng had ever had the same choice, received the same offers for his worthless body and time...if he had not been fanatically focused on his beloved, blind and deaf to anyone else, what would he have traded to ease his own pain and gain strength to serve his highness?
His god was not to blame for so-called choices that were forced upon him. But those who took advantage of him, those who witnessed Xie Lian's suffering and turned it to their own despicable profit and pleasure...(while giving none in return; Hua Cheng was sure of that, remembering his god's surprised delight every time they discovered something new. Xie Lian may have been forced to step away from his cultivation path, but he had come to their marriage tragically innocent of any physical benefits from that spiritual sacrifice. The men who had never...who had...to his god...)
Those he could blame. Those he could hunt down and destroy, be they ghosts or gods or cockroaches in the cycle of reincarnation as they deserved to be.
"Dianxia," this time he continued over his god's quiet discomfort at the title, "when is the last time you..." how to say it, to encompass the truth in words that Xie Lian would not immediately dispute?
As always, his god answered his prayers, even unspoken. "Oh, well..." he shrugged, "...last night, I suppose."
Last.
Night.
For the first and only time, Hua Cheng wished that he allowed E-Ming into bed with them, so he could cut off the offending...but that would not be enough! And he could not risk besmirching his god with his blood...How best to disembowel himself painfully but also neatly?
"San Lang, I'm sorry..."
Even with this new knowledge of how utterly he failed his god, a bloody mess should be avoided. His god must not be dirtied...again. There were other ways to torture a ghost, of course, and who knew better how to wield the spiritual whip, twist the ectomorphic screws, than the king of ghosts himself?
"...I don't mean to be a bother, but there really are so many other options..."
Ah, yes. Options. After punishing himself sufficiently...not that it could ever be sufficient, so maybe there was no 'after'...concurrent with his ongoing yet undoubtedly insufficient punishment, Hua Cheng could still see to his god's safety and happiness, if not to that particular pleasure that had wracked them last night when...
last night
last night?
"And I am still improving, at least I think I am, and honestly I think I'll do better with more familiar—"
"Dianxia," Hua Cheng damned himself again as he interrupted the gentle stream of his god's words. "What are we talking about?"
Last night they had experienced a tiny—so minor, really! With ghostly work crews the repairs would take no time!—operational error in the kitchen, which had resulted in his god's experimental "fond remembrance gravy" exploding onto the walls, ceiling, and Hua Cheng's quickly-raised shield. Only a few drops had landed on their clothes, but then the hissing and the smoking had encouraged them to quickly disrobe, and the fear—"concern at most, gege, I'm sure it would be fine, but let's not risk it"—of any droplets on their skin had led to a long, luxurious bath, during which they had each carefully scrubbed the other, washed and rinsed their hair, almost-drowned during a fit of the giggles over an errant mushroom discovered behind Hua Cheng's ear, and then...
...and then taken snacks with them into bed for a full recipe review. They had nibbled on left-over meatbuns and fruit as Hua Cheng suggested that possibly the addition of vinegar had been a mistake in light of previous ingredients. They had fallen asleep planning their next attempt, with his god's voice fading into slumber as he thanked Hua Cheng for his advice.
They hadn't...
What?
"San Lang, are you alright?" Strong fingers held his, squeezing softly. His god's face was close to his, sweetly concerned eyes gazing into his own.
The worry in Xie Lian's expression was its own obscure punishment, but...
"What are we talking about?" Hua Cheng repeated urgently.
"We're talking about my cultivation." His god blushed, a delicate pink more precious than rose-gold. "But it doesn't have to involve you."
Hua Cheng could scream. He forced his voice into soft support. "Anything you do involves me, my—" a divine frown "dian—" a raised heavenly eyebrow "gege."
Xie Lian rewarded him with a smile. "Well, it doesn't have to. You can continue to eat meat; I'm not trying to change your habits. But I would prefer to return to my path of..."
Hua Cheng will have to punish himself later for the fact that he loses his god's gentle patter in the sound of the world rebuilding itself around him.
Meat.
Meat!?!
"...so many wonderful recipes that I can try, and I think they will be easier to...control...without any lingering resentment from their animal sources..."
His god wanted...
"...and no risk of interfering with any poor soul's journey on the wheel..."
His god didn't want...
"...but of course, my path needn't affect yours in this instance. I know, I know," his heavenly eyes twinkled. "We're on the same path in life now, and I'm so grateful for it, San Lang, but you could continue to eat whatever you like."
This gracious, guileless promise was what it took to finally snap Hua Cheng out of the vortex of exultation (exasperated but honest) that was threatening to turn his brain into last night's explosive gravy.
"I don't need to eat, gege!" It was the closest Hua Cheng had come in a long time to raising his voice to his god. "I'm a ghost! I only eat..." to encourage you, to share your enthusiasm, to take into myself something your divine hands have touched.
His words were silent but somehow heard, and his god's blush deepened into the richest of rubies.
"Oh, then that's...that's good! There's a sticky rice dish with mushrooms and nuts that the royal chefs made. I've been looking forward to trying to reproduce it!" Xie Lian's head tilted to the side. "But...San Lang, my San Lang, what had you so upset?"
Of course he hadn't managed to hide the sudden collapse and reconstruction of his worth and world-view.
His god was kind and gracious and infinitely lovable, but he wasn't stupid.
"Dianxia needn't concern himself with this lowly one's—"
"San Lang, stop."
Hua Cheng's voice strangled itself in his throat.
"San Lang is my first and most important concern." Twin emotions had Hua Cheng puffing with pride and hanging his head. A firm, warm shoulder insinuated itself under his temple, and arms locked around his shoulders like the sweetest of bindings. "Tell me."
Hua Cheng mumbled his foolish confession into his god's soft throat, "I thought you were talking about..." how could he say this to his god who still blushed when they kissed? "I thought you meant another part of your cultivation."
"Another part..." Xie Lian's voice trailed off into a sudden cough. "Oh. Oh!" The arms around him trembled.
"Sorry, gege, I was confused."
"No, no, I wasn't clear."
"I assumed—"
"I supposed—"
"I should have asked—"
"I could have said—"
Hua Cheng's holy prison shook harder, and he drew back in momentary horror that he had brought his god to tears—
—only to be greeted by a sudden gale of laughter.
"Oh, no, no! Oh, San Lang, I'm sorry!" the words were barely comprehensible through his god's guffaws. "I never thought! I don't...oh, San Lang, I don't want to give up that!"
Xie Lian buried his hot face in Hua Cheng's bicep, laughing so hard that the whole bed shook. Awash in warm bemusement, Hua Cheng looked down at his husband's glossy hair, hair he himself had brushed last night when they had finished bathing and were definitely, unfortunately, not doing...
"That, gege?" His voice dropped low and fond. "Forgive this foolish one's slow-witted dullness, but I'm afraid I don't quite—"
"Stop! Stop!" a still-shaking hand raised to slap frantically at his chest.
"But how can I help you obtain your goal of not..." thank god, thank you "...giving up 'that' if I'm not perfectly clear as to the definition of—"
His final smirking words were muffled, then silenced, by his god's lips.
When they both came up for air that neither truly needed, Hua Cheng settled more firmly into his beloved's embrace and propped his head on a heavenly shoulder. He was preparing another round of teasing when his god's voice spoke so close to his ear that he could feel each word as a tiny kiss of air.
"Like when you kissed your power into me, my sweet San Lang, I truly believe that...that with you only makes me stronger."
Truly, joy was infinite and yet expanding. Hua Cheng's body breathed of its own accord, golden warmth flowing to the farthest reaches of his body.
"Gege knows I would do anything in my considerable power to help him grow even stronger."
"Even stronger?" Xie Lian teased, lifting his husband effortlessly into his lap. Hua Cheng gasped in shocked pleasure at the show of strength. "Even...that?"
"Especially that," Hua Cheng vowed to his god.