Chapter Text
In an inner room of the largest manor in Ghost City, an eight-hundred-year-old god slowly opens his eyes.
At the same time, in the Heavenly Court, the generals Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen awkwardly (and with many glares, accusations and bitter looks shot at each other) report the kidnapping of the thrice-ascended god Xie Lian by the notorious Crimson Rain Sought Flower.
After all, the god who toppled buildings and crushed half the Heavenly Capital with his ascension could hardly have been expected to not surprise the Heavens any further.
There is a massive fight between General Nan Yang and General Xuan Zhen on whose fault it was that Xie Lian, fallen and unconscious after the tail end of the mission at Mount Yujun took an unexpected turn for the worse, had sudden disappeared between an oppressive, dark wave of killing intent and a storm of silver butterflies. A few more palaces collapse.
But it goes without saying that despite all of this, no one dares even propose a rescue mission for the scrap immortal. After all, who would cross the destroyer of thirty-three deities, the fearsome Hua Cheng? Let alone to bring back the laughing stock of Heaven.
And that is, therefore, how things are.
***
Xie Lian opens his eyes blearily, his head throbbing, only to find himself in a room far more lavish than he has ever seen in several centuries. He has been lying on a bed – an incredibly soft and comfortable one – he realises as he sits up, only to find the separation from the mattress too much, and falls right back down. The walls around him are made of rich, dark wood, silvery curtains filtering the dim light from outside. Even the ceiling is far too intricate in its designs, Xie Lian notes with wonder. Where exactly is he?
He tries to reach back into his memory and finds a yawning gap when he searches for the most recent events. He knows that he had ascended for the third time, leading to quite a pandemonium in Heaven. He remembers Ling Wen telling him that he had amassed an enormous debt for the damage he had caused – Xie Lian frowns, trying to grab on to that memory, and then flinches – was that eight million, eight hundred and eighty thousand merits? What the hell? He has no merits worth speaking of, no temples, no followers – let alone enough to pay back that astounding amount.
That is some exceptionally bad luck, Xie Lian thinks, planting his face onto his hands with a groan.
However, the more he tries to prod at his memory, the more the pain in his head spikes up, until he has to fall back, defeated. Only the vaguest snippets come to him, only to disappear just as quickly – a walk holding someone’s hands, a shrill scream of “I CURSE YOU –!”, a stream of silver butterflies – but they don’t really tell him anything. He thinks he can vaguely remember Ling Wen telling him a way to pay back his debt, but the more tries to probe into what it was, the farther it seems to move away from him.
Sighing, Xie Lian sits up. It is more important to think about his strange whereabouts. He quietly summons Ruoye and is relieved to see the long band of silk unwarp itself from his body and slip out, swaying amiably in front of him. But it is at the same moment that he notices something else. The sleeve that hangs over his arm is of a rich red colour.
Is he – are these – bridal clothes?!
With a yelp, he stumbles out of the bed, almost falling to the floor in his hurry. Standing up, he can feel how acutely different these robes feel on him, the silk hugging his body so unfamiliarly, as opposed to his usual white cultivator robes. He spots an ornate mirror conveniently hanging on the far end of the room, and speed walks till he is standing right in front of it.
He can hardly recognise the figure in the glass. His hair has been tied up in an ornate bun, though it looks dishevelled for some reason. His lips have been painted a dark red, and he can see the remnants of some cosmetic powder lingering on his cheeks, a dusting of pale pink. The robes, as he guessed earlier, are unmistakably designed for a bride.
He… he… Did he just get married?
Xie Lian feels heat rush to his face; his head swims. How – how could this happen? Xie Lian knows that he has tried many unconventional and rather lowly tasks for both survival and for fun, but marriage – such a thought shouldn’t even cross his mind, however desperate his situation. Who on earth convinced him to – who on earth agreed to marry him –
Mumbling incoherently to himself, Xie Lian stumbles back to the bed. At least that’s comfortable. Wait, is this his marriage bed? With a yelp, Xie Lian jumps right off, so fast that he falls heavily to the floor. Ruoye, concerned about its master’s wellbeing, waves around anxiously. Xie Lian, however, is too dazed and distraught to notice. A thousand questions spin around in his head.
When did he get married? It must be somewhere between his ascension and now. Is his husband – given his bridal wear, Xie Lian assumes that he has married a man (he cannot, in any state of mind, imagine himself agreeing to bond with a woman, not after his centuries of cultivation and training) – familiar with him? Had he –
“My veil!” A complete bridal ensemble would have a veil, and yet, despite being fully decked in one, he has not found a veil covering his face. Does this mean that the marriage has already been consumma–
“Nonononoimpossibleimpossible,” Xie Lian mumbles, dropping to the floor, flustered to the point of incoherence. But he is still in his bridal robes, so it couldn’t have been – and his cultivation doesn’t seem broken either – maybe it is just on the floor somewhere. If only he can find it, it will all make sense –
He is still in the middle of it all, on his hands and knees on the floor, uttering a series of stammering “I”s, when the door to the chamber opens. Xie Lian looks up with wild eyes to find a black-clad figure, their face covered in a woefully smiling mask, standing at the door. Although the person’s expression cannot be seen, their entire figure exudes confusion and uncertainty as they stare down at him.
“G-greetings, Your Highness,” the person says, “Are you – alright?”
“I – I – I –” Xie Lian continues to grope around. “I’m looking for a – thing. I’m looking for my veil. Where’s the veil?”
The person stands there, dumbfounded.
“I’ll have to find it – I’ll have to get the answers – collect scraps –”
“Y-your Highness, here, if you need a veil, here it is.” The person suddenly extends both hands to him, one hand to pull him up and the other seemingly having procured a veil out of thin air. Finally clasping the veil, and standing up with the help of the other person, Xie Lian feels his senses return to him. He feels a rush of embarrassment at the kind of first impression he has made for the other person, whoever they may be.
“I am so sorry,” he says, ducking his head in shame. “I did not mean to act like this. It’s just that I woke up only just now, and I was kind of disoriented.”
“There is no need to apologize,” the other person says. “I came bearing a change of clothes, and will call for food if His Highness feels up to it.”
“Ah thank you, thank you.” It is only then that Xie Lian notices the robes in the person’s arms – simple, pure white cultivator robes. “May I know who I have the pleasure of thanking –?”
“It doesn’t really matter. But this one is called Waning Moon Officer by everyone,” the man says.
Evidently a title. Xie Lian nods. “If you don’t mind, this one had a few questions, Sir Waning Moon.” At Waning Moon’s hesitating nod, Xie Lian asks, “What is this place?”
“This is the Paradise Manor, in the Ghost City.” As Xie Lian’s eyes widen a little, he nods again. “I assume that His Highness knows of Ghost City?”
“I have heard of it,” Xie Lian says. Ghost City is reputed as the most prosperous place within the ghost realm, well known as a bustling area for business for all spirits, ghosts and demons, and even cultivators, and sometimes gods in disguise. “But only so much. Could you tell me more?”
The Waning Moon Officer acquiesces. “Ghost City is a residence and a place of trade for a large number of ghosts and demons. The city master of Ghost City is the ghost king Hua Cheng.” Xie Lian knows what a Supreme ghost king is, and how powerful they are; given that this Hua Cheng is the ruler of a thriving trade location as Ghost City (among other lands, surely) and looking at the lavishness of this room itself, Xie Lian can tell that he must be very rich as well.
“Hua Cheng,” Xie Lian tests the name on his tongue. This ghost king must have crowned by Mount Tonglu sometime during his time in the mortal realm; the only supreme Xie Lian knows is him.
Waning Moon Officer nods. “Also known as Crimson Rain Sought Flower.” What a poetic name. Xie Lian is intrigued.
“I assume Lord Hua is the master of this Paradise Manor?” Xie Lian ventures. No one but the city master is likely to be the possessor of such opulence. “Could you tell me more about him? What is he like?”
“Ah, well…” Waning Moon Officer hesitates for a moment. “Chengzhu is an efficient ruler, a strict but powerful administrator. He takes care of his territory well. He is even worshipped by many mortals. He –” Suddenly, the man freezes, and his hand twitches towards his temple. A communication array? Xie Lian cannot see his face, and wonders what is being communicated to him. But his attention is caught on the other’s arm. A cursed shackle? Is the Waning Moon Officer is a banished god? Which one? Why is he in the ghost realm?
As Xie Lian ponders on this, the silent conversation the officer is having seemingly comes to an end. Whatever has been said, it has the officer standing stiffer, straighter.
“Your Highness, I must be leaving now,” he says quickly. “Are you feeling well enough? I will have some medicine sent along with your food.”
Xie Lian quickly assures him that he is okay. “Will – will Lord Hua see me?” he says quietly as the Waning Moon Officer turns to close the door behind him.
Something in the Waning Moon Officer’s demeanour seems to seize with the slightest surprise, then softens. “Lord Chengzhu will visit you soon, I am sure, Your Highness. Please take care of yourself.” And with a final nod, he leaves.
Time passes, one incense time, two, then more, and Xie Lian is left alone in the room. He hesitates before changing into the proffered clothes, which are much more comfortable than anything he has worn in a long, long time; is he supposed to shed his bridal robes just like that? Is that how it is supposed to work? But since he has been given the new clothes by Hua Cheng’s subordinate, surely he is permitted to change.
“Hua Cheng, huh,” Xie Lian murmurs to himself as he changes. So that is his husband’s name? The images flash across his mind once again without warning, rapid and vague – walking down an unknown path, his hand being held by someone else, a storm of ethereal silver butterflies; only this time Xie Lian remembers a little more of detail – the red robes of the person beside him, a red string tied on one finger, the jingle of silver. Still trying to figure out the pieces of this puzzle, Xie Lian decides to contact Ling Wen.
“Ling Wen, Ling Wen the all-knowing!” he chants. Ling Wen’s response in her private communication array is a strange choking sound.
“T-taizi Dianxia!” she exclaims, sounding strangely discomposed. “You –”
“Ling Wen, I have a question. May I know about the state of my debt to the Heavenly Realm?”
“Your debt? It has been cleared in its entirety. But Dianxia, are you– where are you?”
“Oh, I am –” But before he can go on, the connection fizzles out. Xie Lian smacks his forehead. His spiritual energy must have run out again!
At least now he has one more scrap of information to work with. He has found himself in the ghost king Hua Cheng’s manor, dressed in bridal clothes; he remembers a walk with (he assumes) said ghost king. He does not remember doing anything else in particular since ascension, and his earth-shattering debt has somehow been paid entirely. All the clues seem to point at Hua Cheng being involved in some way. Then, did Hua Cheng pay the sum as bride price? That is the only explanation he can come up with. Was that the solution Ling Wen had told him of – to land himself a Supreme husband? Xie Lian sits down heavily.
Did he really do something this shameless? Roped in a rich man – ghost – to clear his debt for him??
And why would Hua Cheng…Xie Lian is someone with nothing to his name! How generous could Hua Cheng be to do something like this? Xie Lian sticks to the principle of not judging anyone until he meets them, but he can only think of two reasons – either Hua Cheng has some specific reason to be interested in him, or he has far too much free time and wealth in his hands.
Xie Lian knows which option he is going to believe.
Food is brought to him in short order – rather, a small feast, carried by several ghost women, who giggle and bow at him as they come, as well as an elaborate tray of salves and herbs to help with pain. Xie Lian thanks them all sincerely, then sits alone with Ruoye and eats.
He is growing more and more overwhelmed and embarrassed by the second. To be treated so kindly, and he can’t even remember what led to this!
It is several incense time later, when Xie Lian is feeling the touches of sleep crawl upon him again, that a quiet knock sounds at his door.
“Please come in!” he calls, rising quickly even as the door opens to the chime of silver. A young man enters, looking about Xie Lian’s physical age, ink-dark hair cascading down his back, adorned with maple red clothes and silver jewellery, in every way looking like a young master of a noble family. His obsidian eyes twinkle at Xie Lian as he offers him a soft smile.
Xie Lian bows low, ignoring the small shriek of protest his body offers.
“… Lord Hua Cheng?” he says tentatively as he rises.
The young man before him freezes at his words, and for a long moment, appears to be rendered speechless with surprise. Did Xie Lian say something wrong? But before he can begin to form some sort of an apology, the man nods.
“En,” he says quietly. He has a deep voice, and yet with a light spring of youth to it, pleasant to the ears. He bows to Xie Lian in return, all elegance. “Although this lowly one is no lord. If it so pleases Dianxia, he may forego the formalities and simply call this one San Lang.”
Hua Cheng’s humble tone surprises Xie Lian; surely a ghost king does not have to present himself in such lowly terms to his spouse, who is, of all things, a scrap god? But he nods at the offer of a term of familiarity. “This one is no longer any crown prince, either,” he says, tilting his head. “Pray San lang not feel obligated to call me such an undeserving title.”
“Dianxia will always be Dianxia,” Hua Cheng counters with a firm shake of his head. “But I will call you as you wish… gege?”
Xie Lian can feel his cheeks heat up at the informal address, but he feels that it is still a very considerate one.
“En,” he accepts with a small burst of laughter. For a moment, he thinks of asking Hua Cheng about what happened before he found himself in this manor, of admitting that he does not remember, but then he thinks of all the hospitality he has received since he awoke, and of his debt to Heaven paid, and he swallows the words before he can say them. How ungrateful would it be to return this kind of treatment to Hua Cheng! Besides, he does remember the important things…kind of. Maybe it will all come back to him soon. Until then, he can learn and adapt as needed. It’s nothing new for him.
“I hope gege has been comfortable,” Hua Cheng says, seating himself on the bed, and lightly gesturing Xie Lian to do the same. “Does it hurt anywhere?”
“Ah, not really,” Xie Lian assures. “Besides, it is no problem. I am used to this.”
Hua Cheng’s face falls, looking like he’s swallowed something bitter. Once again, he recovers before Xie Lian can dare to say anything. “May I do a quick check?” At Xie Lian’s nod, he suddenly slips off the bed and kneels before him.
Xie Lian yelps. “A-ah, please don’t kneel–”
“Don’t be afraid, gege,” Hua Cheng says. “Cry out if it hurts.” And then with a wave of his hand, dozens of silver butterflies burst forth, and oh, this is what he remembers, Xie Lian thinks with a rush of wonder and awe. The butterflies land gracefully on his skin, everywhere, and rub barely-there touches with their feelers, inspecting and healing; one of them lands on Xie Lian’s nose, making him go cross eyed and bringing a burst of soft laughter out of him. He almost misses out on the smile – a soft, sweet smile gracing Hua Cheng’s handsome features as he looks at him.
“May I?” Hua Cheng murmurs, and before Xie Lian can quite figure out what permission is being sought, takes Xie Lian’s foot in his hands.
“S-San Lang, this–” Xie Lian begins urgently. This is the foot with the cursed shackle, and he doesn’t want – But Hua Cheng only gives one quick, sharp look to his ankle before gently letting his fingers run over his legs, looking for injury, just as his butterflies have been doing. His touch is clinical, but also endlessly gentle; it is surprisingly disarming.
When his hands grasp his knee, Xie Lian lets out a soft cry of pain; he hasn’t been meaning to, but with Hua Cheng, he suddenly seems to lose his well-practiced ability to hide all discomfort. He looks down to see a dark bruise against his skin. Wordlessly, Hua Cheng lays his palm flat against his knee, and Xie Lian feels the cool flow of spiritual power rush in; slowly, the skin returns to its normal colour. He lets out a breath that he didn’t realise he had been holding.
“Thank you. For everything,” he tells Hua Cheng sincerely. Hua Cheng smiles a boyish smile in return.
“It was nothing. But if gege wishes to thank me properly,” his eyes twinkle, “I’d like to have him eat dinner with me.”
Xie Lian finds himself smiling at him just as easily. “Of course.”
Laughing as if he has been promised a present, Hua Cheng takes his arm, and Xie Lian lets him.
***
The next morning, Xie Lian wakes up from the most comfortable sleep he has had in a long time (the bed had been far too soft for him to get used to immediately, but then something had lulled him softly to sleep) with fresh determination and a new goal – he is going to be a good spouse to Hua Cheng. Of his abilities, Xie Lian knows that his resilience is the thing he can count on most – he has always tried to make the best out of the ever so strange situations he always finds himself in. He had genuinely mastered the arts of sword swallowing and breaking boulders on his chest, simply because he had taken them up. He hadn’t even meant to get enlisted in the army at Banyue, but he had done his best in his role once he got roped in. And now, he has no idea who came up with the idea of him marrying Hua Cheng to clear his debt (it is still far too fantastical an idea) and who had convinced Hua Cheng in the matter, but he is going to ensure that the ghost king does not regret this decision, or find him a burden. If Xie Lian is a wife, he is going to do his best to be a good wife. He’s going to be the best wife – and do, uh, all the wifely things (whatever that means) to perfection.
The only trouble is, he has never been married before, nor known anyone in a similar situation, for as long as he remembers. He had always thought that his vows of abstinence would be enough to keep him away from worldly matters, and so, while the once Crown Prince is a master of the six arts, he is quite a novice at being a bride.
Putting on his outer robes, Xie Lian thinks of Hua Cheng. Of his red robes, his pretty face, and how tenderly, yet respectfully, he had treated him. Dinner with him had revealed that Hua Cheng was an excellent partner at conversation – as clever and knowledgeable as he was considerate. Xie Lian does not remember a time in a very long while when he had talked so much, and had been talked to so well in return. What an astounding person his (Xie Lian blushed at the thought) husband is! Even though he had not married Xie Lian for love – because surely that was impossible, he was incredibly well-mannered to this nobody that had been dumped on him. A fragment of memory comes to Xie Lian again – the soft, yet reassuringly present grip that had waited for him, and brought him out of the palanquin.
“I am going to do right by him, Ruoye,” Xie Lian says, extending his arm to the white silk. Until Hua Cheng stops wanting him around, he is going to work hard and be the best spouse – ever. It is the least Hua Cheng deserves.