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Yin Yu could never say he didn’t see the affection between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian.
Of course, he didn’t try to look. The two were just too goddamn touchy-feely with one another. Hua Cheng would conduct business with his god sitting on his lap. He was thankful for his mask, even if everyone knew who he was, anyway.
It was incredible, actually. How Hua Cheng’s state of being turned on its head as soon as His Highness was back in his life.
When Xie Lian was next to Hua Cheng, the ghost king turned into such a kind and benevolent man. A genuine smile would be stuck on his face. He’d give freely and even forgive mistakes. Without the god, he would be back to that ruthless man.
Well, that is, unless the ghost had had a particularly good night beforehand.
Moreover, Yin Yu’s employer just seemed to truly come to life now that his beloved was by his side—even if he technically was dead.
Yin Yu himself was technically dead as well. Or something in between. It wasn’t really clear. He’d been alive one moment, then he had been awoken by his former Shidi in this new state of being.
He still felt bad for fleeing afterward.
But Hua Cheng was still away, reforming somewhere. Ghost City needed someone to keep an eye on it.
He was still Waning Moon Officer, after all.
It was a relief to everyone when Hua Cheng returned. Ghost City celebrated for at least a week, depending on who you asked. And their favorite god, Xie Lian, held his hand.
When the two arrived back at Paradise Manor after their impromptu honeymoon, Yin Yu approached to wish them congratulations on their union.
“Thanks, Yin Yu!” Xie Lian grinned, with that smile that held a light which reminded Yin Yu of another certain god.
“Hm, yes,” Hua Cheng nodded, agreeing with his husband. “Yin Yu…”
“Yes, Chengzhu?” Yin Yu had been prepared to excuse himself for the evening.
“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” Hua Cheng stated.
Yin Yu’s stomach dropped. “Am I being fired?”
“No, no!” Xie Lian softly smacked his husband’s shoulder for his poor phrasing. “What San Lang means is that he wants you to do what makes you happy.”
“…what makes me happy?” Yin Yu was more than a little confused.
“Surely, you don’t intend on spending eternity working here,” Hua Cheng shrugged.
Yin Yu frowned. “I don’t currently have any other plans.”
Hua Cheng only nodded. “Well. If you do get other plans. You only need to let me know.”
That night, Yin Yu laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He’d been around for centuries now.
But… had he ever lived?
His only goal now was to be a good person.
Working for Hua Cheng was good. As much as the calamity feigned otherwise, he was a fair and just man. Sure, it had its pitfalls but it certainly beat his days as a god. He didn’t have to worry about appearances, or pleasing anyone.
And he didn’t have to worry about…
Him.
Well. That was the intention.
But Yin Yu couldn’t say for certain that a single day had gone by where he didn’t think about Quan Yizhen.
“Yin Yu,” Xie Lian had approached him one evening, some months later, slightly out of breath.
“Your Highness,” Yin Yu greeted the god with a small bow. “What can this one do for you?”
Xie Lian shook his head. “Actually it’s… well! You don’t have to do anything. I just wanted to inform you, in case you did want to know, that Qi Ying took a pretty bad hit this morning.”
Yin Yu blinked. “Oh…”
“I just thought you might want to know.”
“Is…” Yin Yu swallowed in an attempt to stabilize himself before whispering. “Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine,” Xie Lian waved his hand. “You know how he is—always bouncing back from a blow. But he’ll be out of commission for a short time. I’m only worried that he might fight something before he’s fully recovered.”
“I see,” Yin Yu nodded.
An awkward beat of silence stretched between them.
“Anyway,” Xie Lian shifted his stance. “That’s all.”
The god turned to leave.
Yin Yu was suddenly struck by the reminder of the months Quan Yizhen had spent nursing him back to health.
“Wait,” Yin Yu took a step toward Xie Lian. “Your Highness. Could I make a request?”
“Of course,” Xie Lian smiled.
It had been a long time since Yin Yu had been here.
General Qi Ying’s palace.
Quan Yizhen had taken a pretty bad beating. Apparently, he had bitten off more than he could chew. Even Xie Lian admitted that he would have taken another official to fight the damned thing with him. The god had suffered a concussion alongside multiple lacerations, he was told.
Nevertheless, here he was now, unconscious on his bed.
With Yin Yu tending to him.
Sure, he’d already been fixed up pretty good before Yin Yu even arrived. But he was ensuring the god got his fluids and didn’t reopen any wounds. Not a lot of people in the Heavens were particularly enthused about the idea of telling Qi Ying what to do. Or, more specifically, the likely outcome of that.
Despite Yin Yu’s new state of existence, he found himself quite tired after a couple of days. He sat down on the divan by the window where he had left the poetry he had been reading and allowed himself a moment to doze.
“Shixiong?” A familiar voice called out, softly.
Yin Yu shot up. Any lingering sleepiness was gone now and he was wide awake.
He turned to the source of the noise. Quan Yizhen was sitting up, still in his bed. He looked much better than Yin Yu recalled him looking before nodding off. The sun—or lack thereof—was evidence of the fact the entire afternoon had been lost. He must have slept for quite a while.
Yin Yu stared back at Quan Yizhen. Both were still. Unmoving.
He instantly regretted ever coming here.
Yin Yu was on his feet at once. Was he stupid? What would people say if they knew he was here? The banished god who tried to kill his own shidi? Now acting as if he had any right to be here. In heaven.
Seeming to sense the shift in mood, Quan Yizhen cried out. “Don’t go!” He frowned, attempting to rise to his feet.
Yin Yu frowned too. “Quit that,” he snapped. “You’re still recovering.”
“I’m fine, shixiong!” Quan Yizhen insisted.
Yin Yu rubbed the bridge of his nose, a headache already forming due to the reckless god’s behavior. Maybe this was why Xie Lian actually informed him of his injury—to encourage Yin Yu to look after him since Quan Yizhen won’t listen to nearly anyone else. It had worked pretty well, hadn’t it?
“His Highness said, once you are awake, that you’re to stay here for at least three days to recover,” Yin Yu stated, folding his arms. “One of which I think you should spend in bed.”
Quan Yizhen only stared at him, eyes big, as if he couldn’t believe Yin Yu was still in the room.
“This one will stay in bed— if Shixiong stays,” Quan Yizhen smiled.
“Fine, but I’m going to get some tea first,” Yin Yu sighed, moving toward the door. When did the god get so smart?
When he looked back, to ask a question Quan Yizhen was frowning.
“What’s that look for?”
Then his eyes welled with tears. Yin Yu was quite surprised and took a few steps back toward the god.
“Please,” the god whispered. “Don’t go. I’ll ask someone else to get tea.”
“You think I won’t return…”
“Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen strained to speak. “You died.”
Yin Yu stopped in his tracks.
“I couldn’t stop him,” the god continued. “I only ever wanted to be strong for shixiong but… but…”
He couldn’t hold it in, and he began to sob.
Yin Yu was instantly back in the mindset of their sect days—when he would comfort his shidi after a particularly rough day. Without thinking, Yin Yu sat down next to Quan Yizhen on the bed and rested a hand on the other’s shoulder.
Quan Yizhen took that as an opportunity to throw his arms around Yin Yu and cry. Yin Yu didn’t know what to say. He simply began to smooth the wild locks of the god. His dark brown curls always refused to be tamed and yet it only managed to make him all the more handsome.
“Yizhen…” he started without anything to finish the sentence.
“I can’t,” the god gasped. “I can’t let you go. I can’t lose you again.”
“I’ll only end up hurting you.”
Quan Yizhen lifted his head to meet Yin Yu’s eyes. Those deep brown eyes that he recalled all too well. When the sunlight hit those eyes at just the right angle, they’d glow a brilliant gold. Even before ascension, the god had always been captivating.
“Nothing hurts more than the thought of never seeing you again,” Quan Yizhen said. “Shixiong can say all the mean things he wants but this one will simply be happy to hear his voice.”
Yin Yu didn’t understand. He could never understand Quan Yizhen. He’d been nothing but awful to him. He was sure a headache would form if he tried any harder. He wanted to leave. To never show his face here again. When he looked at Quan Yizhen, too many thoughts and even more confusing feelings bubbled inside him like a pot of boiling water. Intense. It hurt to attempt to touch any of it.
He wanted to run. Yin Yu wanted to push off these emotions but he remembered he was trying to be a good person now.
So, despite it all, he still asked, “Why?”
Quan Yizhen shrugged. “When I see Shixiong, the feelings in my chest feel so nice. It always feels heavy. No matter how strong I get, the feeling stays heavy. It’s not nice. Not at all…” he frowned. “But when I see you, it goes away. I feel like I could single-handedly hold up the sky. Everything is light. You’re… you’re the moon in the night’s sky.”
It clicked then. Finally. After so many years Yin Yu understood. He had always been stuck in his own head. Logically, forgiving Yin Yu was out of the realm of possibility. But Quan Yizhen always followed his heart.
“Yizhen,” Yin Yu smiled. “I didn’t know you could be such a poet.”
Then, Quan Yizhen got that big smile on his face—the one that was surely brighter than any sun.
“I think…” Yin Yu frowned. “I think that I think too much.”
“Well,” Quan Yizhen tilted his head to the side like a puppy. “I could have told you that.”
Yin Yu laughed then. They both laughed as a wave of ease settled between them for the first time in forever.
“Is anyone getting us tea?” Yin Yu asked, looking back to the door.
“Oh, hang on,” the god lifted his fingers to his temple to contact a deputy official.
They spent the remainder of the evening sipping hot herbal tea and talking about all sorts of crazy happenings since the fall of Jun Wu. Quan Yizhen mentioned stumbling upon the martial gods of the southeast and southwest kissing. Yin Yu recounted the same two attempting to visit Ghost City while Hua Cheng was in a terrible mood. He also told him about the litter of orphaned kittens he found on the outskirts of the city and how he found homes for them all—keeping one for himself.
It was the first time Yin Yu felt like he was free from his own thoughts.
They must have fallen asleep at some point. Yin Yu couldn’t remember. But he woke up to the sun shining on his face through the large windows and a tan arm thrown over his stomach, hand on his waist. He turned to find Quan Yizhen on his side, a little spot of drool on the pillow beneath him.
Yin Yu reached out to tuck a stray hair off the god’s face. It was best to let him rest just a little longer.
But as he shifted—just slightly—the god’s eyes fluttered open. And, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, he rubbed the sleep away.
“Shixiong?” He spoke in a sleepy voice. “You’re still here?”
“I’m still here,” Yin Yu confirmed.
Quan Yizhen cupped Yin Yu’s cheek, confirming that he was, in fact, still there. Yin Yu stiffened at the touch, but Quan Yizhen lightly stroked his thumb over the pale skin, relaxing him.
Yin Yu couldn’t remember the last time he’d been comforted like that.
“Can…” Quan Yizhen’s voice trembled. “Can this one hold you?”
Yin Yu nodded and the god pulled him close to his chest. Yin Yu tucked his face into the crook of his neck, silent tears falling.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cried.
It went unsaid, what he was apologizing for.
“Shh,” Quan Yizhen soothed. “You’re already forgiven.”
“I don’t…” Yin Yu hiccuped. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“You have it anyway.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.”
“Shixiong…”
“You really still want me around?”
“Always,” the god stated.
“What if I hurt you again?” Yin Yu asked.
“I’ll forgive you.”
“What if it’s impossible to forgive?”
Quan Yizhen shook his head. “The only thing impossible to forgive is if I lost Shixiong for good.”
“I can’t stay in the Heavens.”
“Then I’ll meet you in Ghost City or the mortal realm.”
“I’ll be working most of the time.”
“This one will wait until your work is done. Or help, if permitted.”
“I’m… I’m not the man I used to be,” Yin Yu was almost begging to find something to put the god off.
It wasn’t working. Quan Yizhen only shook his head. “That’s okay. I’m different too. I think…”
“You’re a bit calmer than I remember,” Yin Yu says. “But your eyes haven’t changed a bit.”
“My eyes?”
“Mmhm,” He nodded.
They remained silent for a few long moments. Yin Yu had expected the silence to be awkward. But it was nothing but comfortable, laying there in Quan Yizhen’s arms.
“I have to go soon,” Yin Yu admitted. He did have work to do, after all.
Quan Yizhen’s grip on him tightened, reluctant to let his former Shixiong go.
“I know,” Yin Yu sighed. “But let me prove it to you. Let me prove that I’ll come back to you.”
“…Promise?” The god murmured.
“I promise,” Yin Yu said.
Quan Yizhen loosened his hold, and Yin Yu drew back to look him in the eye. “You will see me again before the end of the week,” Yin Yu decided. “For now, you must recover.”
“I am recovered!”
“Yizhen,” Yin Yu crossed his arms. “If I find out you didn’t rest, it may be longer until I can see you. You won’t be fully healed so I’ll have to put together a tonic...”
“No!” Quan Yizhen cried. “Shixiong! I’ll be good. I’ll rest. I won’t even leave my palace!”
Yin Yu smiled, softly. “Mm. Good.”
Then, a little unexpected for them both, the former god leaned forward and pressed his lips to Quan Yizhen’s forehead, leaving a soft kiss. Finally, he had to go, but neither would say farewell.
Before he completed drawing the array, he glanced back at Quan Yizhen who had a look of adoration on his face.
It made a light, fluttering feeling form in Yin Yu’s chest. For once, he could name what it was. But he was a little scared to do so.
Instead he only wondered, what—if anything—wouldn’t he do for Quan Yizhen.