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It was cold. The rain was relentless. It hadn't let up for days, and Hong Hong-er, only 12, had nowhere to go. If he stayed out in the rain for much longer then he was sure to wake up with a fever, and he didn't have any medicine, nor could he buy any. The heavy rain pelts against his body, hitting bruises left by the other boys in Xianle, who would pick on him and call him a monster because of his stupid, red eye. Everything would be better if he didn't have that stupid, ugly eye.
Unable to bear the rain any longer, Hong Hong-er went to the one place where he felt safe. It was a small shrine to his God, His Highness the Crown Prince of Xianle. The shrine was run down and unkempt, but it was not unloved. Every day, the boy would harvest a cape jasmine flower and place it in his God's hand, where a flower was missing. He's not sure where the small statue's flower went, but he considered it his responsibility to make up for its disappearance.
He decided that he could withstand the rain a little longer, just long enough to find his God a flower. He went to the cape jasmine bush along the forest, where he usually gathered his flowers, selected the prettiest one he saw, and dashed towards the shrine, holding the flower to his body in an attempt to shield it from the weather.
Upon making it to the shrine, he collapsed onto the floor before his God's feet. This is not how he would pray. He knew that his Highness did not wish for his followers to prostrate. He believed that they should face him as an equal. Hong Hong-er would never disrespect the wishes of his beloved God. After taking a few breaths, he stood up and looked at the flower. It was completely crumpled. He had ruined it. At the sight, the small boy burst into tears.
"Please forgive me! This one has ruined your offering and he doesn't have another one!"
He shivered, placing the crumpled flower into the outstretched hand of the statue. If it had been any other God he would have felt that he had disappointed them. That was the worst part. His God was too kind, too merciful to be disappointed in him even if he deserved it.
He shook his head in distress. His God deserved better. The boy, determined, ran for another ten minutes, out of the shrine and back to the jasmine blossoms. He found the best one and, covering it with his hand this time instead of pressing it to himself, ran back to the shrine. By the time he got back, the weak little thing was thoroughly exhausted. He replaced the flower that he had ruined with the better one, one more worthy of his God.
Finally content with his offering, he allowed himself to pray.
"Please, Your Highness," he whispered softly and sincerely, "please protect me. Please let me stay safe here for the night. Tomorrow I will try to find a better offering for you. I will try to find some food maybe, or, or, just something better. Please don't let anybody find me tonight. I just need a dry place to rest. Thank you."
Finally, he allowed himself to sit. His body felt weak. How long had it been since he had eaten? A few days at least. How was he to live on for his God when there was so little food to go around?
His train of thought was broken by the sound of feet splashing through the rain. Quickly, Hong Hong-er scurried to hide behind the altar, scared that the boys had come back to beat him again. Instead, a middle aged woman entered. She set her umbrella down by the door and placed half a loaf of bread on his Highness's altar. Kneeling, she began to pray. Hong Hong-er fumed. That was not how his God wanted to be prayed to! Still, he stayed silent. After a few moments, the woman stood, taking her umbrella and exiting the shrine to continue her journey.
Crawling out from behind the statue, Hong Hong-er found himself staring at the bread. He had done it before, stealing his God's offerings. The first time, his God had rolled the apple to him, so it didn't feel so sinful, but the times after that had come with so much shame. How could he, someone so unworthy, take something from his God?
But his stomach hurt. He felt so empty. His body was weak, and he didn't know how much longer he could go on without a meal. His God had told him to live for him. So, as tears began to roll down his gaunt, thin face, Hong Hong-er reached for the bread.
He devoured it. In a matter of seconds he had scarfed down the bread, leaving him without a sense of fullness or satisfaction, not that he deserved it. How could he dare to take any sort of pleasure in such a pitiful, disgusting action? He stole from his God.
Sobbing, the boy kneeled and rested his head on the Crown Prince statue's feet.
"I'm so sorry, your Highness. I'm so sorry. One day I will be very rich and very strong and I will make sure to shower your shrines with many offerings! And- and I'll build you a temple, bigger and grander than any other. I swear it, your Highness, I swear."
He did not ask for forgiveness, because he already knew that he was forgiven. His kind and gracious Highness, too gentle to ever hold this against him. Another sob wrenched through him. He didn't deserve it.
**
"San Lang… San Lang?"
A soft hand rubbed his shoulder.
"San Lang?"
Hua Cheng's eyes fluttered open, and met the eyes of his God, his husband.
"San Lang, you were crying in your sleep. Was it a nightmare?" He asked, soft and concerned as he blotted the tears away from his eye with his own sleeve.
He didn't deserve it.
"Thank you, your Highness, gege, I- I'm alright."
But his words did nothing to placate his husband's growing concern.
"My darling, my San Lang, was it a nightmare or a memory?"
Like Hua Cheng, Xie Lian had nightmares. The problem was, they were often memories, based in truth. It would not have been right for them to comfort each other in the traditional way, cooing there, there. It was just a dream. Because for the two of them, the dreams were often of memories.
"Memory…" Hua Cheng admitted softly "I…. I ate your food… from your shrine."
Xie Lian immediately knew what he was referring to. He knew how much shame Hua Cheng still felt about having to eat his God offerings to survive.
"Oh, my sweet San Lang. I am so glad you ate it, really. If you didn't then I may not have you here with me now and that's just something I couldn't bear!" He soothed, wrapping his husband up in his embrace.
Hua Cheng laid his head on Xie Lian’s shoulder.
"I should have died…"
"San Lang." Xie Lian said, firmly but gently. "It was my food and it will be me who decides what it should be used for. I think it should be used to feed my husband. Come, get dressed. We are going to Qiandeng Temple."
**
The busy streets of ghost city bustled around the pair, as they walked hand in hand, Xie Lian guiding his beloved to the temple. It was his most popular temple. Its beauty was beyond that of anything his mortal followers had ever given him. The artist, his husband, truly was magnificent. Whenever Xie Lian entered this temple, he was flooded with a sense of warmth and love that was almost overwhelming. It was not like his other temples, which had been made in hopes of an exchange. Qiandeng temple was built out of pure devotion, as an offering, with no wishes in return. Qiandeng temple felt like home.
Xie Lian sat himself on the altar, as he often did, taking his role as Hua Cheng's God. His husband's eye lit up, and he quickly bowed down to kiss his God's knuckles, before settling at Xie Lian's feet. He did not like for his followers to prostrate, but when Hua Cheng sat at his feet it was different. There was no fear in it, just love and devotion. And so, at times like this, when his husband truly needed to worship, Xie Lian would allow it. Despite this, Hua Cheng only rested his head against Xie Lian’s knee for a few moments before standing to pray the way that his God preferred.
"Thank you, your Highness," he began, "for always keeping me safe and warm. Thank you for being my home, for teaching me about kindness, for holding my hand. Thank you."
He didn't say the words out loud, but Xie Lian could hear them clearly in his mind, vibrating through him.
Finished, the ghost lit a few sticks of incense. He placed them on the altar for his God, before kneeling once more, resting his head against his God's knee and shutting his eye. It might seem odd to some, but Xie Lian understood that allowing his husband to have these moments of worship was healing. For centuries, he worshiped and held all of his faith in his God, but his God never responded. His worship went unnoticed for so long. Even as a child, despite his genuine devotion, Xie Lian failed to protect him from abuse, neglect and near starvation. In a way, these moments of worship were to heal both of them. For Hua Cheng, he got to receive love and approval, finally, an answer to his prayers. For Xie Lian, he was able to reassure his husband and make up for all of his prayers that went unheard.
This is why, after a few minutes of silence, Xie Lian reached down and tilted his husband’s chin up with care. One big, dark eye settled upon his gentle gaze.
"And for your offers, what do you ask in return?" Xie Lian cooed.
"Nothing. I have enough. You are more than enough. You are my husband. I want nothing more." Hua Cheng stated, voice barely above a whisper.
Xie Lian leaned down slowly, giving the ghost a feather-light kiss.
"My most devoted believer," he praised.
Every so gently, Xie Lian tore a piece of bread from one of the loaves on his altar, an offering. He brought the bread to his husband's lips.
"Eat, my love. You deserve it, my most devoted believer."
It would be a lie to say that Hua Cheng didn't hesitate. The important part was that he eventually allowed himself to eat the bread. Bit by bit, Xie Lian hand fed his offering to his husband. After the bread had been finished, he placed an orange into Hua Cheng's hand.
"Eat, my love." He whispered.
And, surprisingly, he did.
He tore into the orange with his thumbs, peeling it like it was a gift from God because to him, it was. He ate through every slice, until he held the last one in his hand. Delicately, he held the last slice up to Xie Lian's lips. They curved into a soft smile and accepted the fruit.
"Thank you, beloved. Are you feeling any better?"
Xie Lian ran his fingers through Hua Cheng's hair.
"En," he scooped Xie Lian off of the altar, holding him bridal style. "Let's go back to sleep."
As a ghost and a God, the pair did not require sleep. Still, it was time that they both treasured dearly, enjoying the feeling of one another's slowed breaths against their skin, the gentle rise and fall of their chests. Of course they would go back to sleep. Only this time, Hua Cheng would not have any nightmares.