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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.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian hasn’t had much time to think about how he can go about being a good spouse, when he is distracted by a wink of bright silver. One of Hua Cheng’s silver butterflies is lazily flying towards him. Xie Lian smiles as he stretches out one finger for it to perch on, and it readily complies.

“Oh! Good morning, little one. You aren’t lost, are you?”

The butterfly only silently flaps its ethereal wings. Xie Lian has hardly begun cooing over it when there is a knock at the door, and at the same time, a hoard of silver butterflies flies in through the window, crowding all over him. Xie Lian is shrieking in laughter from their caresses when Hua Cheng walks in.

“Good morning, gege,” he greets, then clicks his tongue at the swarm of butterflies. “Unruly.”

With a snap of his fingers, they return (almost as if reluctantly) to his vambraces. The one that had originally perched on his finger leaves last, and only after Xie Lian’s coaxing.

“Good morning, San Lang!” Xie Lian greets. The ghost king looks equal parts regal and mischievous, his hair pulled in a high ponytail now, dressed in vibrant red and silver.

“I hope gege slept well, and that these little bastards did not disturb him. They were simply too eager to greet gege.”

“Not at all, not at all,” Xie Lian says quickly. “They are very cute, ah.”

This brings a barking laugh out of the other man. “Is that so? Those in Heaven would really beg to differ.”

Xie Lian raises his eyebrows. “Do they… find them threatening then?”

Hua Cheng sits down at the foot of his bed, lips quirked in amusement. “En. My wraith butterflies are the terror of Heaven. Anything associated with me has… quite a reputation there.”

That makes two of us, Xie Lian thinks, and it is only at the sight of Hua Cheng’s smile slipping that he realises that he has spoken out loud.

“Well, let’s not spend the morning talking about Heaven, ah,” he says quickly. “Is there anything San Lang has in mind?”

“I have a place I want to show gege, after breakfast,” Hua Cheng replies. “But I don’t know if gege would grant me the pleasure?”

“Of course,” Xie Lian smiles.

As they eat, Hua Cheng fusses over Xie Lian’s health.

“Is gege feeling fine? Any pain at all?” he asks more than once.

Xie Lian cannot help feel touched at his kindness. For many, many years, no one had cared, or even known him enough to bother to ask that question.

“This one is perfectly fine. After San Lang took care of me last day, I don’t think there is anything wrong anymore.” Once again, a small part of him whispers about his lost memory, but he forcefully ignores it. It is clearly a small patch of time that he has lost, and he would have known by now if anything of severe consequence had happened by then. Well, other than an apparent marriage. Xie Lian knows he cannot bear to tell Hua Cheng that he forgot something as important.

For some reason, Hua Cheng doesn’t look entirely convinced, like there should be something more that Xie Lian is hiding. But he does not ask anymore, instead ushering Xie Lian through the corridors towards the place he’d mentioned earlier.

The place, in fact, turns out to be Hua Cheng’s armoury. Xie Lian is usually good at keeping his composure, but at the sight of so many swords, he forgets himself in a moment. In no time at all, he is flitting from weapon to weapon, caressing the blade with this one, attempting an experimental swing with another.

“San Lang!” he cries, glancing at the ghost king, who is leaning against the wall of the armoury with a tender smile on his face, before his eyes are drawn back to the swords again. “These are incredible! I can’t believe you even have the Silver Spring sword –” he runs an admiring finger over the blade in his hand, strong, supple yet thin and glinting like a mountain spring. “I thought it was lost centuries ago.”

“Do you like it?” Hua Cheng asks.

“I do, I do!”

The amusement in Hua Cheng’s voice grows. “Do you really like it?”

“I really do!” Xie Lian exclaims mindlessly.

A little chuckle escapes Hua Cheng, but Xie Lian can hardly hear it over the rapid beating of his heart as he unsheathes the shimmering, blade of a longsword, glowing with a greenish sheen.

“Are any of them good enough for you?” Hua Cheng says again.

“Good! Good! They’re all good!” Xie Lian babbles.

“I had been thinking of letting gege choose one of these, if any of them caught gege’s eyes, so that you can have a useful weapon at hand. But since gege likes them all, I will give them all to you.”

Xie Lian freezes. “No, no, there is no need at all.”

“But it’s rather evident gege really likes swords?”

“I do,” Xie Lian says. Liking doesn’t even cover it; he is closer to a fanatic. “It doesn’t mean I have to own it, though. Just looking at it makes me happy. Besides, San Lang has already been far too generous with this one.”

“Then gege can just have this entire armoury, so he can look at it every day,” Hua Cheng says with unbelievable ease. “After all, this entire property can be gege’s as much as it is mine.”

“San Lang, don’t just say such things!” Xie Lian says, knowing that his face must be flushed. So smooth! So elegant! To give his spouse access to such extravagance, and spoiling him so much – this ghost king really is something else!

From the armoury, Hua Cheng proceeds to give Xie Lian a tour of the entire Paradise Manor. The urge to take hold of his husband’s hand is a sudden and strong impulse, and Xie Lian decides not to resist it too much. If Hua Cheng is surprised at the fingers that link around his, his face doesn’t show it.

The way he feels around Hua Cheng is almost foreign and entirely, vibrantly new: Xie Lian doesn’t remember this easy camaraderie, this reverent affection, this companionship in the last several centuries. He has only been here for a day, and the sense of this being so simply right has already somehow settled in him. He lets Hua Cheng take him around, then take him to lunch. It is all overwhelmingly simple, yet overwhelmingly pleasant. Being doted like this – how strange a fortune, ah!

“San Lang?”

“Yes, gege?”

“En, nothing much. I was thinking San Lang must so competent and strong, managing Ghost City all by himself,” Xie Lian says he eats.

Hua Cheng looks away. “Oh, it’s just a bunch of trash, it’s no matter.”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian frowns. “Don’t put yourself down like this. Tell me about it properly. Did you build this place all by yourself?”

“If it pleases Dianxia-aah??” Hua Cheng was suddenly being fed a large piece of meat from Xie Lian’s plate, by Xie Lian’s own hand. Xie Lian had observed that Hua Cheng had not called for any food for himself, and decided to remedy it.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Xie Lian smiles. “Do you want some more? You really should eat, San Lang.”

Xie Lian could almost swear that the ghost king suddenly looked unexpectedly bashful, his cool composure shaken. “Don’t worry, gege,” he says quickly, “If it makes you happy, I’ll eat.” And he does arrange for it, calling forth ghost women carrying a few dishes.

As he eats, he explains the history of Paradise Manor, and the role of Ghost City to Xie Lian. Xie Lian nods at the clever and insightful narrative, and Hua Cheng’s own philosophy behind keeping this place within his territory.

“Would you like to go around for a walk?” Hua Cheng offers at the tail end of their conversation, when the food too is gone.

“Around Ghost City? Of course, of course!” Xie Lian almost stands up then and there. “Let’s go!”

Hua Cheng smiles. “After you take some rest, gege.”

Xie Lian almost finds himself pouting. “But San Lang…”

Hua Cheng seems to be biting him lip to keep back a laugh. “Gege, you make me such a weak man."

“San Lang is the strongest, ah!”

If the hall is filled with free laughter, well, none but them need to know.

Their tour around Ghost City was going splendidly, when something leads Hua Cheng to touch his temple with a frown. A communication array, clearly.

Ghost City is a vibrant, whirlwind landscape of loud sights and sounds. Hua Cheng suggested that they hold hands for safety, and Xie Lian was too happy to comply. While they have been having a wonderful time strolling together (Xie Lian curiously checking various wares here and there, and Hua Cheng all but buying out entire stalls for him), it is obvious that it's rare for Hua Cheng to take a walk, because their path has been paved by hushed whispers and covert but avid stares. Yet, the lord of the city must be quite intimidating to the residents, because no one has dared to block their path, or even approach them. Whispers have followed them everywhere. Xie Lian isn’t particularly bothered, though.

Now, silent conversation over, Hua Cheng lets his hand drop from his temple with a noise of deep displeasure.

“Is everything alright?” Xie Lian asks.

“Just a report of some disturbance in the city borders, gege. Looks like some trash have a death wish,” Hua Cheng shrugs, but Xie Lian can sense by the furrowing of his brows that the report must be of at least a little more gravity than Hua Cheng lets on. “This one will send a clone –”

“Ah, San Lang! You don’t have to hold back on my account! Go ahead and take care of that business first.”

“But gege –” Hua Cheng almost pouts, an expression Xie Lian ends up finding endlessly cute. “This one does not wish to cut down on our tour.”

In a moment of boldness, Xie Lian steps forward and places his hands on the ghost king’s shoulders. He pretends that his cheeks don’t warm up at the gesture. “I will be fine,” he assures softly but firmly. “You should go. If it is alright, can I look around for a while before returning?”

Hua Cheng smiles. “Of course.” He raises a finger, conjuring a single wraith butterfly. “This one will show you the way back home once the trash around bores you.”

The butterfly prompts flies over and flutters down on Xie Lian’s hair, like an exquisite little ornament. Bidding Hua Cheng a quick goodbye, Xie Lian lets himself wander aimlessly.

Xie Lian would like to think that he can easily blend into the crowd and not attract notice, but he finds himself a subject of intensely curious looks from the ghosts all around. While most of them had scurried away under Hua Cheng’s glower as he turned to leave, now that Xie Lian is alone, none of them even try to hide their curiosity.

“Will Daozhang buy my wontons? My spicy chilli wontons? There is not one as good in this market!” a ghost woman with a painted mask calls out. All too soon, a lot of people down the street are hollering about their goods to him. Even if he wanted to buy, he doesn’t have any money worth speaking of, so he beats a hasty retreat.

“Daozhang!”

“Buy my goods, daozhang!”

“Best in town!”

“Forgive me, forgive me,” Xie Lian hollers as he flees. “But I really can’t buy these, ah!”

“Daozhang, daozhang!” a piping little voice calls as he catches his breath in one of the quieter alleys. Xie Lian looks over to find a small monkey spirit hovering near him. It carries a load of small lanterns. “Will daozhang buy my lanterns? They are very pretty, and fly very high!”

“Ah, forgive me, but I have no money,” Xie Lian says quickly. But the spirit is not deterred.

“If daozhang wants one for a loved one, daozhang can have it for free!” it says. Xie Lian stares. What a little romantic. Surely this cannot be good for business. In spite of himself, he steps closer. The lanterns are indeed prettily painted, and Xie Lian takes some time to look them over. He notices one with a maple branch drawn on it, decked in leaves, and the sight reminds him of Hua Cheng’s red robes. He decides to take it with him.

“I’ll – ah, make sure you receive some payment,” he promises. But the monkey spirit only chatters happily at him and leaves with a little bow.

Lantern in hand, Xie Lian continues his little tour. He is so engrossed at the sight of a ghost busker at the street corner that he notices the crowd of female ghosts before him far too late, almost bumping into them.

“Ah, ladies, I apologize. I didn’t look where I was going.”

The gaggle of ghosts gives him a once over, and then they all giggle.

“My, my, isn’t this such a pretty little gege!” one of them coos.

“We don’t get men like you around,” laughs another. “What are you up to, daozhang gege? You are too beautiful to be walking alone.”

“Want us to show you a good time?” giggles a third, pressing dangerously close.

Normally, Xie Lian would drop his usual excuse of ‘I can’t get it up’, and the words are almost out of his mouth when he remembers.

“Pardon me, my lady. But I am – ah, I am married.”

All the female ghosts around him shriek in delight, surprise or envy.

“Married, ah, married! Such a pity! Your wife must be such a lucky thing, little gege-ah!”

“Shouldn’t you be home, taking care of her?” One of them asks, and Xie Lian notes with a little alarm that they have not backed away at all. “Or is it that our sweet gege here is feeling lonely…?” She winks suggestively.

“No no no, nothing of the sort!” Xie Lian says hastily. “In fact, it’s all very new –”

A fresh round of giggles breaks out.

– so much so that I am still figuring it all out, Xie Lian thinks, then realises that he has said it out loud, and is promptly embarrassed.

“Aw, is my cute little didi clueless about the ways of married life?” an older ghost cackles. “Let Xiao Tong take care of you.” She shuffles up to add in a whisper, “I can tell you everything you need to know.”

Before he can even think of protesting, the crowd half coaxes, half shoves Xie Lian to a nearby parlour. He is seated by an empty window, and the female ghosts promptly pounce on him with a hoard of suggestions.

“The first thing would be to charm her with your words, and then touch her just like this –”

“Does young gege like to be forceful? Then you can just –”

“She will be driven out of her mind if you nip her just a bit, right here –”

Xie Lian feels his head spin as the suggestions turn more and more – intimate; his face is hot, and he knows that he must be very, very red. What is worse is that some of them actually make him think of Hua Cheng – Hua Cheng’s lips parting in a gasp, part-pleasure and part-surprise, when Xie Lian nibbles “right here”, “just a bit”, Hua Cheng’s eyes staring at him, half-lidded with a hunger Xie Lian didn’t even know he could imagine – this is bad, he has to stop – he has known Hua Cheng for all of two days; Hua Cheng is his host ( husband , a little voice in his mind whispered teasingly) and oh, why did Guoshi never teach him how to resist men?! Xie Lian can’t do this. He can’t do this marriage thing without going crazy. It is a wonder he hasn’t lost his mind and run out of the parlour already, where the female ghosts are still plying him with suggestions that make his ears burn.

“Ladies, please,” he whimpers, or tries not to, “If you could – ah, offer some simpler household tips – ”

The women all titter again. “Of course, of course! You only had to ask!”

“Jiejie, why not offer this brother a little manual as well?” one of them offers, and so for the next one incense time, Xie Lian finds himself being enlightened in the ways of a househusband, and finally handed over a scroll: “Simple ways to please your wife.” All in all, he feels quite lucky.

Their conversation (rather enthusiastically one sided) is cut short when a lanky crane spirit whom Xie Lian had seen during his stroll with Hua Cheng passes by the window that looks out into the street. His eyes almost pop out of his head when he spots Xie Lian surrounded by a band of female ghosts.

“Aiyoh, what are you girls up to? Sitting with Chengzhu’s man like that?”

Everyone in the parlour freezes at once.

“Chengzhu’s man? Huh? But this young man here was only telling us how he is a newlywed –”

“Believe what you will, but Chengzhu was strolling around with him earlier, and he never brings guests – wait, newlywed –?”

Everyone, including the crane spirit, stares at Xie Lian so hard that he squirms in his seat.

“Hahaha, please pay no mind, it’s been wonderful, ladies, but I suppose I should leave – Thank you – Please excuse me –”

No one says anything to him as he quickly leaves, the manual cradled to his chest.

“I wonder what that was all about, Ruoye,” he murmurs as he sets the guide butterfly aflutter, following it home. “I hope it won’t reflect badly on San Lang, whatever it was.” His silk band only snuggles a little more firmly around him in a gesture of reassurance.

Hua Cheng is already at Paradise Manor when Xie Lian returns. Xie Lian enters the main hall, following the butterfly’s trail, to find him lazing on a rich divan, an elaborate gold foil palace before him. Xie Lian’s eyes are immediately drawn to two things at once – the final gold piece that hangs casually from Hua Cheng’s considering fingers (please don’t let it fall, please don’t let it fall, he finds himself thinking out of an old habit), and Hua Cheng’s right eye – where earlier, he had always been greeted by two perfect obsidian eyes, now he thinks that behind the fall of Hua Cheng’s inky hair, he can spot a patch of black fabric. Even as he teeters at the edge, Hua Cheng makes a contemplative hum, and then flicks one long finger at the palace. The palace topples, and Xie Lian’s companion butterfly flutters towards its master. With a blooming smile, Hua Cheng looks up, and nimbly jumps off from the divan, walking towards Xie Lian waiting by the door.

Xie Lian does not know when the features shift, but when Hua Cheng reaches him in a few long strides, two eyes curve into a crescent smile at him on a suddenly more youthful face. The transition has been so smooth and swift that it makes Xie Lian wonder if he only imagined the eye patch.

“I see gege has returned safe and sound,” Hua Cheng says. “Just in time to save this one from dying of boredom.”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian laughs. “So insincere.”

“Gege! I am the most sincere! When I came back to find gege still away, I wondering if I should go look for you.”

“I was just looking around. I –” Before he can complete the sentence, Xie Lian’s eyes lock on the loose strand of hair Hua Cheng has been twirling around his index finger, the red thread he had noticed earlier resplendent just beside it. All at once, the ghost women’s advice rings in his head, and – poof! – Xie Lian’s face turns bright red.

“Gege?” Hua Cheng tilts his head, brow furrowing very slightly. “Are you alright?”

The sutras! He has to chant the Ethics Sutra now! But then before he can kickstart his brain, Hua Cheng is reaching forward and placing a hand on his forehead.

“Gege, you are warm. Are you feeling ill?”

“F-fine! I am fine!” Xie Lian’s voice is uncomfortably high. Remembering the lantern in his hands, he pulls it out from behind him and thrusts it at Hua Cheng. “H-here! I got a little something for you!”

For some reason, Hua Cheng’s face slackens in shock, then goes absolutely starry-eyed as he takes the lantern. “Gege got me a gift?” He sounds like a child with his favourite toy. “And such a pretty thing too!”

I didn’t even spend anything on it, Xie Lian wants to reply. It’s only a lantern! But he is too busy trying to get his thoughts in order, so he makes a hasty excuse of having to change and makes a run for it.

“Gege!” a laughing voice calls from behind him. “That isn’t the right way, you’ll get lost!”

That forces him to slow down some, and Hua Cheng catches up to him easily. The Ethics Sutra has finally started up in his brain, and it thankfully prevents him from jumping out of his skin when Hua Cheng takes his arm.

“Do the manor’s interiors not shift constantly?” Xie Lian asks, regaining his composure slowly. “Is there even a right way of going around this place?”

Hua Cheng chuckles. “Gege is so clever, and right as always. I just wanted to spend more time in gege’s company.”

“Why are you so mischievous?” Xie Lian laughs.

Hua Cheng merely sticks out just the tip of his tongue in reply, eyes bright with laughter. Xie Lian looks away quickly before the inappropriate thoughts can start again.

“Would gege like to have a bath?” Hua Cheng offers, “just to help him unwind from the long day?”

Xie Lian almost makes a polite refusal out reflexively, but a bath does sound wonderful, and he is slowly learning to accept Hua Cheng’s kindness instead of running away from it, so he shyly agrees. Like everything else at Paradise Manor, the sprawling bath is royally lavish, and Xie Lian’s toes curl in pleasure as he sinks into the warm bath lightly scented with jasmine. Pulling his hair down, he lets Ruoye play on the floor beside while he pulls out the manual that he received from the ghost women from the sleeve of his discarded robe.

All in all, the instructions are not bad, Xie Lian thinks as he reads the scroll, leaning back lazily against the pool. Of course, there is a part that makes him blush violently and chant sutras, instructing on how to please in – ah, you know, that , and Xie Lian makes quick work of skipping through it for the time being. But the other instructions are quite simple, and rather like what the ghost women told him themselves, so Xie Lian climbs out of the bath decently assured and confident. Drying his dripping body, he stares at the rows of inner robes lined in the antechamber of the bath – and oh , half of them are red, while the others are white. Something clutches at Xie Lian’s heart – something overwhelming and fond. Never in his life has someone set aside his things like this – like an equal, like a partner, as if he were something to be cherished for who he is, and not just as a Crown Prince standing high above, separate from the world.

Once Ruoye has snugly returned to its usual spot all around his body, Xie Lian tugs on one of the clean white outer robes. Then he stares at the neat little stacks for a few moments, and then, in a moment of boldness or maybe madness, drapes a red robe instead of the regular white as a second robe. It is slightly bigger on him, but somehow he cannot bring himself to care, soft and warm from the bath as he is. Tucking the scroll into his outer robes which he gathers in his arms, Xie Lian walks out through the door. He can feel the manor shift around him subtly, softly, like a cat draping itself around his owner, and when he walks into the room it offers him, he finds Hua Cheng pacing around in lazy circles. He stops as Xie Lian enters and turns to look up

“…”

“…”

Xie Lian suddenly feels pinned under Hua Cheng’s wide, shocked gaze. He hasn’t seen the ghost king fall out of his usual suave confidence since he first met him and called him ‘Lord Hua Cheng’.

“I – I am so sorry, San Lang!” he says quickly. “This one shouldn’t have – your robe – I’ll take it off! Please don’t mind!” Unmindful of propriety in his sudden bout of shame, he starts pulling down the robe from his shoulders.

“D-dianxia! I –” In a flash, Hua Cheng’s wrist is closing around his, stopping his hasty actions. Up close, Xie Lian watches how the other man’s eyes have blown wide, watches as his Adam’s apple bobs. His own mind is dissolving into a white haze at the proximity, the sutras rushing up to the front.

Hua Cheng quickly drops his hand and steps back once he seems to be assured that Xie Lian won’t start undressing again.

“It is absolutely fine, gege,” he says, and the easy-going smile is back in his voice and face, “There is no need to take it off. Pray forgive this one’s forwardness, but gege looks very pleasing to the eyes, dressed in red."

Xie Lian feels his face flush. Too smooth! “A-ah, thank you.”

"In fact,” Hua Cheng’s obsidian eyes twinkle, “gege should keep this. It really suits him better than it does this one.”

Such flattery! Xie Lian fights another blush. “E-en. Then I will have to thank San Lang for his generosity.”

“Gege is the most generous, for allowing this one to enjoy his presence,” Hua Cheng says, and somehow his words, so outrageously flattering, are said with so much sincerity, with that soft smile, that Xie Lian cannot doubt that he means every bit of it.

“Will San Lang tell me of all he did while this one was away?” Xie Lian says with a smile, walking over to the king-sized bed in the room and sitting down. Hua Cheng follows him.

“Get yourself comfortable, gege,” Hua Cheng gently nudges him to get Xie Lian out of his stiff posture. “And, there isn’t much to be told. This one does dull work; gege need not tire himself hearing about all that trash.”

“But I really do want to,” Xie Lian says earnestly. “San Lang is the city master; I really wish to know about everything you do. If, ah, San Lang wishes to share, that is.”

Something shimmers in Hua Cheng’s eyes, but then a smile unfurls on his lips, and with a nod, he starts talking. Once again, Xie Lian is enraptured; although Hua Cheng speaks of everything in his domain with an excessively casual tone, and Xie Lian can tell that he is downplaying his role in the city, Xie Lian can pull out the things that are silently present in the narrative – Hua Cheng’s dedication to his territory (so very different from the way Heaven works; so much more free , Xie Lian can’t help think), his concern for the residents of Ghost City, hidden under a veneer of disdain, and his commitment to justice, often ruthless but ever constant. Xie Lian does not interrupt, but his heart keeps growing fonder for the ghost that has built the world around him from scratch, fighting tooth and nail.

“San Lang,” he says once Hua Cheng has talked about the hoard of foreign ghosts making trouble at the borders of his city that day. Time to try one of the tricks he has learnt. “Would you – ah –”

“Hm?” Hua Cheng tilts his head curiously. “Does gege want something from this one?”

Xie Lian blushes at the choice of words. “I –” he struggles to control the way his pitch rises comically, “San Lang has worked so hard today. Would he – would he like this one to – ah, knead his shoulders?”

As soon as he offers it, he feels silly. He remembers Mu Qing doing it for him after draining sword-practice sessions when he was a Crown Prince, and even after eight hundred years of living without such comfort, remembers the way his muscles relaxed, and the sighs it drew out of him. But what need does a Supreme ghost king have for a massage, when he can create his shape and form at will, when his hair, skin and sinew are all products of pure power?

But Hua Cheng is looking at him like he just knocked the breath out of his chest. The air grows thick with something Xie Lian cannot identify, and he is on the verge of blurting out a quick apology and hurrying back to his room when Hua Cheng says, “Dianxia does not have to –”

Xie Lian catches on to the wording, and that pulls back his fleeing confidence. “It may be that perhaps ghosts do not need this,” he says. “But I would like San Lang to refuse me because San Lang does not want it , and not because he feels that this one will be inconvenienced. Say the word, and I will leave."

Hua Cheng falters. “Gege – I –” Then his expression clears quickly, and he laughs a little. “Gege, don’t go. This one was wrong. I was just afraid of being too greedy.”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian reprimands. “Perhaps this is not my place to say – because we have known each for only so long – but I believe that relationships should depend on chance and whether we are on the same wavelength – other things like identity do not matter. If I like you, I will like you even if you were a beggar and if I dislike you, I’d dislike you even as an emperor. And I – I do like San Lang, truly, and think him worthy of all comfort. So – ah, San Lang should never think that he is inconveniencing this one with any of his wishes.”

Hua Cheng smiles. “En. Gege is very right. Then this one will gladly welcome gege’s kindness.”

Having earned his permission, Xie Lian gets on his knees behind Hua Cheng and gets to work. He has a rough idea of how to go about it, but at the first press of his fingers into Hua Cheng’s shoulder blades – so stiff! – the ghost king jumps, just a little.

Xie Lian stops immediately. “Ah, San Lang, forgive me, was that too rough?”

Hua Cheng chuckles. “Haha, gege is very strong.”

Xie Lian winces and takes care to control his strength after that. He is probably not doing a very good job, but he still continues, determined, and Hua Cheng soon appears pleased to a state of bonelessness. While Xie Lian works, Hua Cheng coaxes him to talk about this and that – his scrap-collecting journeys, his interpretation of different poems and tales, and listens attentively without a word of complaint even in moments Xie Lian ends up kneading a muscle too hard.

Since he met Hua Cheng, Xie Lian feels something almost foreign; he feels seen. He feels heard. He has never been encouraged to speak his heart and mind like this before, nor been heard so attentively, with the completeness of the intelligent conversation Hua Cheng makes. Xie Lian feels cherished. Not just as a god, not just as a crown prince, but whatever he is underneath.

So he keeps talking, almost as if worried that this chance will slip away; he keeps talking when he has finished with the massage; he talks as they sit side by side; he talks until his eyes droop, until his body slumps against Hua Cheng, and then he knows no more.

Xie Lian wakes to the soft light of the morning, covered in a soft blanket. Stretching, he sits up in the emptiness of the room as Ruoye slithers up on him for comfort. A small weight lurches from his chest.

In the pearly light coming through the window, Xie Lian stares as a perfectly carved diamond ring swings merrily on a chain around his neck.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng doesn’t need to sleep, so he usually spends the nights he isn’t in the Gambler’s Den (or away searching for his god), in his bedchamber, reading. Reading and writing have been skills that he has had to teach himself, painstakingly, like most other skills he has. And while he knows that his calligraphy is quite monstrous (although the ghost residents all sing praises of it), he would like to believe that his ceaseless intake of literature across the centuries has been finally close to enough for holding a conversation that would hold His Highness’s interest.

And ah, His Highness. Hua Cheng is still getting used to the fact that his prince, his god, his beloved is finally here, in the manor that Hua Cheng built with nothing but him in mind. That he is just one door away. That he has indulged in Hua Cheng’s lowly whims and wishes, that he talked and laughed with him and gave him a massage (no, Hua Cheng definitely did not scream into his pillows about it like a little girl later that night, not at all), that he fell asleep on Hua Cheng’s bed – and the softness that His Highness’s face’s sleeping face exuded as Hua Cheng carried him to his own bed was enough to make his dead heart ache . And it might be that Hua Cheng has not read two lines from the scroll clutched in his hand throughout the night because he has been too distracted stealing glances at Xie Lian’s sleeping face through the butterfly he left in his bedchamber for security reasons. After all, Hua Cheng can admit to himself, he is scared, no, terrified, of losing His Highness again.

When he had gone to Mount Yujun where Dianxia was investing the case of the missing brides, Hua Cheng had been prepared to assist in whatever little ways he could – which he had miserably failed at over the last eight centuries. Guiding Dianxia to the Ming Guang temple that was Xuan Ji’s lair, breaking Xuan Ji’s formation, shielding his god from the filthy blood rain in the corpse forest – a laughable imitation by that useless trash – these were the least he could do. His Highness was naturally wary, and Hua Cheng had taken the whiplash of his spiritual silk as a dismissal. But he had lurked around, just in case. Just until Xie Lian could complete his mission with his useless, lying companions, and return to Heaven.

He hadn’t expected the two idiot generals to be so incompetent as to let His Highness get hurt in their presence, not like that. Xuan Ji’s curse was a misdirected thing, intended for the absent Pei Ming and reaching for Xie Lian – the closest adversary around her, and not even fully articulated. Hua Cheng had rushed so fast to catch Xie Lian as he fell with his eyes closed, he had not even bothered to properly obliterate Xuan Ji. All he had known was fury and terror. The same helpless terror from his days as a useless ghost fire. Not again. Dianxia, please. Please don’t get hurt.

Xie Lian had been unconscious for several shichen, during which Hua Cheng had inspected his meridians with spiritual power for signs of the curse, unwilling to touch his god without his permission. No curse mark, no sign of the curse left. Strange. Did it not work, whatever Xuan Ji had tried? Admittedly, curses not clearly conceived, desired or articulated could be unpredictable even for the caster; they could have anything from no to severe effect. Hua Cheng had waited at Dianxia’s side for any sign of discomfort, spotting none, and when the god had begun to stir, of course he had panicked and fled the room in an instant.

Over the time that Xie Lian has spent at Paradise Manor, Hua Cheng has kept a careful watch on His Highness for any signs of pain, any injury. But healing the cuts and bruises on the first day aside, there appears to be nothing wrong with Xie Lian. It’s a relief; but Hua Cheng knows that one can’t be too careful when it comes to Taizi Dianxia – who after all, has a track record of using extremely self-sacrificing tactics – so it is a good thing that he has been indulging Hua Cheng by staying with him. It makes protecting him a little easier, especially after he has been injured so recently.

Hua Cheng takes up another scroll, knowing that he hasn’t read a single thing from the last one. His mind plays and replays the press of Dianxia’s hands on his shoulder blades (Hua Cheng could melt right there, and it had been with difficulty that he prevented himself from succumbing to the urge to either jerk away from where Xie Lian was touching his unworthy body, or dissipate out of sheer emotional overload, or whimper and maybe cry from the pleasure and gratitude). So strong, His Highness, with those hands that could crush Hua Cheng to dust –

“CHENGZHU!!”

Of course, some idiot has to come right then to ruin his musings.

“CHENGZHU! PLEASE HELP, THE KITCHEN IS ON FIRE!”

Huh. What a way to start the morning.

He strides over lazily, shifting into the form he has been taking on of late, and slides open the door, only to have a crowd of ghosts – all temporarily employed in the kitchen – almost fall on top of him. They barely manage to avoid doing that, and instead fall to the floor in a heap.

“What?” Hua Cheng says flatly, nudging one of them with his big toe. “Get the hell up.”

The ghosts scramble to get up, and then scramble to pick up their masks, and then scramble to be the loudest in informing Hua Cheng about the situation. Hua Cheng can feel a headache coming.

“All of you, scram,” he says, and watches his subordinates hurry away. From what he has gathered from the cacophony, “Granduncle” came into the kitchen very early in the morning (he thinks he heard a ‘furen’ or two being uttered in the crowd; he must have misheard), and offered to cook breakfast (“We tried to refuse, Chengzhu, really!”) and somehow – here the narrative became too confused – the kitchen caught fire. Hua Cheng is striding into the kitchen in the next instant, the only thought in his head being that Dianxia might be hurt. Right under his watch too. He probably isn’t much better than the trash generals.

The kitchen space is – well, black. The fire seems to have been put out, thankfully, and Hua Cheng finds himself facing a crowd of ghosts huddled in a corner, and a mercifully unhurt god looking unfairly cute with soot smudges all over him.

“Scram,” he orders softly to the ghosts, which leaves him alone with Xie Lian.

“San Lang!” Xie Lian looks extremely sheepish. “I am so, so sorry! I – I have no idea how this ended up like this. This one –” he looks away, embarrassed, “this one only wanted to make his lord breakfast.”

Hua Cheng’s insides do an undecipherable number of things at “his lord”, extreme confusion and the regular feeling of being unworthy of being addressed thus winning out. He doesn’t comment on it out loud.

“Gege is the most gracious,” he says, stepping closer. “San Lang is most thankful. But gege, you should rest. There are people to make the food.”

“I know, I know,” Xie Lian sighs. “But I just – San Lang has been so kind, so generous, I simply wanted to do something in return. But – ah –” He looks down at the pot he has been holding, and the stuff in it ranges from shades of brown to ashen black, “it looks like we’ll just have to throw this away.”

Before he can do that, however, Hua Cheng is stepping right up to him, grabbing a pair of chopsticks, and bringing the food to his mouth. It tastes… interesting. A blend of sweet and salty and slightly pungent, all varying in intensity in each grain.

“San Lang!” Xie Lian yelps. “Don’t eat it, it’s burnt!”

“Only the bottom, gege,” Hua Cheng says easily. “We can just scrape that part out. Gege made congee, yes?” he adds to his god, who is staring at him, open-mouthed. “It really isn’t all that burnt.”

“I – ah, San Lang,” Xie Lian mumbles. “How – how is it?”

“Not bad,” Hua Cheng smiles. “Maybe add a little more water next time, and more salt.”

“All right,” Xie Lian nods seriously. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for your feedback.”

When, half a shichen later, god and ghost stroll out of the kitchen, there is an empty pot with a charred bottom settled on the table. Hua Cheng can see the kitchen staff huddled behind a pillar, staring. They think they are being quiet, but their (not) whispers could raise a town. Hua Cheng looks back at them, unimpressed, as he and Xie Lian walk past.

Clean it up, he mouths at them.

“YES, CHENGZHU!” they shout, much to Hua Cheng’s annoyance. Beside him, though, Xie Lian is giggling. It brings a helpless smile to Hua Cheng’s own face. In the fresh sunlight, the ring of ashes wrought in rare crystal dangles from a chain around Xie Lian’s neck, glinting. Each brush of the ring against his god’s chest brings fresh warmth to Hua Cheng’s cold body; his ashes are finally home, right where they belong. The safest place in the world.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian says suddenly, “if it is alright, can I cook for you again?”

“Dianxia!” Hua Cheng stares at him. “There is no need.”

“I know.” Xie Lian’s gaze moves away to the garden, towards which they are strolling, and beyond that, to the lake. “I – I am sorry for the accident today. I won’t burn your kitchen down again, I promise! I’ll be very careful!” He pauses and sighs. “My food isn’t very good, probably. It’s okay if you don’t like it – I won’t try again.”

“Gege! You can burn down the entire Paradise Manor if you like, it won’t be a problem. I can always build it again.”

“San Lang!” Xie Lian looks positively scandalized. “You can’t just say such things!”

“Everything in this manor is gege’s to use or destroy. It is no matter,” Hua Cheng says firmly. “And I would be honoured to have gege’s cooking, if he feels like it. I truly enjoyed today’s food. I only wanted Dianxia to be well rested.”

“I am well rested!” Xie Lian laughs. “San Lang takes such good care of me.”

Hua Cheng’s heart, which he has kept active in Xie Lian’s company, starts beating at the double. He ducks his head, embarrassed.

“But not every day,” he tells Xie Lian. “Gege still needs to rest. And he should let me assist him sometime.”

“Alright.” Xie Lian nods with a smile. “Many thanks to San Lang.”

Gazing into the distance, Xie Lian’s fingers absently toy with the ash ring. Hua Cheng shivers.

“Oh, San Lang, I have been meaning to ask,” Xie Lian says, looking him in the eye, “this ring, is this a gift? It is – ah, it is far too precious for me to possess.”

Hua Cheng nods, waving his hands in dismissal at the last comment. “Just some trinket. It is something I wanted gege to have ever since he arrived at here. Just keep it for fun.”

“San Lang!” Xie Lian laughs, a sound half incredulous, half overwhelmed. “You spoil me too much, ah!”

Hua Cheng merely smiles, tucking his arms behind his head. “Gege deserves to be spoiled,” he says simply. If he could, he would give Dianxia everything and more, for all eternity. But since it is almost absurd to imagine he would have that chance just yet, well, he will have to make the best of the time he has. His Paradise Manor, a dry, cold residence that has, somehow, been waiting like a yawning cave all these years, finally has a purpose, finally has life in it. Hua Cheng can’t contain his smile that spills onto everything as he strolls with his beloved, this morning. He is too late to care enough to pull it in when they walk by a gaggle of ghost servants; there are dull thuds of them stumbling, perhaps even falling, as the god and ghost walk by.

The world around him could burn away, and he couldn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything other than the dainty hand – calloused from the sword it once held – that now touches his own with so much patience and grace. There is not a happier man than Hua Cheng in all three realms.

Contrary to popular opinion, Hua Cheng does not always rule from his office at Paradise Manor or from behind the curtain at the Gambler’s Den. On some days, he takes on the form of a child to mingle with the children of Ghost City, and find out if any of them are unhappy or being bullied (the miscreant is silently brought to their rightful place not long after), and on others, he takes an unassuming shape, mingling in the crowd to learn about the gossip that floats around in the streets and corners. Admittedly, his butterflies are more than capable of spying, but this is also a way to entertain himself, an indulgence he sometimes allows himself to partake in.

But if the last few days were to be considered, well… if he were to be honest, Hua Cheng won’t leave Paradise Manor at all, not if he can help it. And why should he, when the most precious person in the world is waiting for him there? But of late, Xie Lian has somehow come to the conclusion that Hua Cheng has been neglecting his duties by keeping him company day in, day out; and so, Crimson Rain Sought Flower, the Scourge of Heaven, the Terror of Three Realms, has been kicked out of his own house.

“As grateful as I am to have San Lang’s company all these days,” Xie Lian had said, “I couldn’t bear it if my presence was stopping San Lang from governing the city as he usually does.” And when Hua Cheng had protested (with many a whine and pout and solemn promise), Xie Lian had simply said, almost sternly, “San Lang should resume his duties normally. I would never wish to hinder the functioning of Ghost City. Please, San Lang?”

And what is Hua Cheng supposed to do after that, but leave like a kicked dog, cajoled by its master with promises of petting in the evening?

Walking down the crowded lanes of Ghost City in a nondescript skin designed specifically to deflect attention, Hua Cheng steers clear of the Gambler’s Den. The chaotic, often bloody game of greed and justice is usually more than adequate entertainment, but today he has no appetite for it. His mind is full of his Crown Prince, and his steps aimless.

Five days. Five precious days he has managed to spend in His Highness’s company. Each new morning, Xie Lian’s smile shines brighter than the sun, and Hua Cheng just keeps falling deeper, deeper, so much deeper into love and devotion. Days spent at the Paradise Manor has slowly caused any remaining shyness to bleed out and away from Xie Lian; only last evening, he even suggested that they do calligraphy lessons together!

(Thankfully, even witnessing Hua Cheng’s monstrous handwriting has not apparently caused Xie Lian to recognise the tattoo on his hand; Hua Cheng wouldn’t know what to do if his obsession were to be outed like that.)

A loud wail in a front of a shop nearby causes him to snap out of his thoughts.

“Married, ah, married!! HOW WILL MY HEART TAKE IT? I WAS SAVING MYSELF FOR HIM!”

The cry is, however, treated to a wave of jeering and booing.

“Miserable hag, what good is you doing, saving yo’self for him! Like he would look at you for even a moment! Hahahaha!”

“Yer not even pretty enough for old pig Zhou here, let alone our lord!!”

“Asshole! What’s wrong with pigs??”

Ah, Hua Cheng thinks as the female ghost continues to wail, So it’s just some trash causing a ruckus.

He idly takes a step towards the stall where a small crowd has gathered, each ghost shouting their own input.

“Bet Chengzhu likes them really young and pretty,” one of them suggests. Hua Cheng raises an eyebrow. Turns out the chaos is about him.

“Who wouldn’t?” a young male ghost says with a sniff. “Not everyone has to be like us, dealing with them hussies with saggy tits!”

He is promptly thrown to the ground with a resounding smack, by the ghost Lan Chang. “Shameless bastard!” she shrieks. “Don’t you dare show up at our place again with that mouth. I’ll show you ‘saggy tit’!”

“Hey, hey, Lan Chang is starting a fight again!”

Hua Cheng steps away with a shrug. It wouldn’t do any harm for that upstart ghost to get kicked in a few delicate places, and then some more. He can trust Lan Chang with that.

The conversation, though, is still ongoing at the fringes of the fight.

“-really pretty, with such a charming face!” a female ghost is chittering to her companion.

“Never seen such a well-done skin before!” another one exclaims. “Looked more god than ghost, haha!”

“Aiyah, meimei, I don’t know whether to swoon or be jealous from your description!” their companion laughs. “Chengzhu is so lucky to have such a pretty bride!”

Hua Cheng stumbles a little. What –

“You girls are so silly!” a tentacled ghost booms. “Anyone would be lucky to have Chengzhu!”

“YES! CHENGZHU IS THE BEST!”

“CHENGZHU IS THE BEST!”

“THE BEST HUSBAND!”

"The greatest in bed!"

“Even a hundred concubines wouldn’t be enough –”

Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Hua Cheng opens his mouth, only to be distracted by two other presences that have entered the city.

Ugh. Not again.

He doesn’t have to walk very far before the idiots practically run into him. Would have run past him, even, if he had not changed his appearance in the span of a moment. Never be it said that Hua Cheng lacks a flare for the dramatic.

The way Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen scramble, faces turning pale, at the sudden appearance of the ghost king is undoubtedly satisfying.

“Long time no see, I would say,” he greets them with a smirk, E’Ming materialising in his hand, “But it really hasn’t been as long as I’d like.”

For the trash that had caused Hua Cheng to part from Xie Lian a few days earlier had been none but these two. Back then, Hua Cheng hadn’t bothered to show himself, enchanting the borders so that they had been hopelessly lost for two days at a stretch, circling the same spot before being kicked out of the realm. I didn’t think they’d be foolish enough to return this soon, he sighs.

Somehow, the trash generals appear to be as outraged as they are scared.

“Crimson Rain!” Feng Xin barks, “Let His Highness go this instant!”

“Now now,” Hua Cheng tsks, “Is that any way to greet your betters?”

Feng Xin’s face turns purple in offence, and Mu Qing steadies his sabre.

“What are your intentions? Are you holding Xie Lian hostage? You should know better –”

“Shut your shitty mouth,” Hua Cheng hisses. “He is my guest. Not that you have any right to ask.”

Around them, ghosts have begun to notice the confrontation.

“Ayee, look at that riffraff come to bother Chengzhu!”

“Milord, d’ye need us to eat ’em alive?”

“Hang them up and make them into a stew?”

Hua Cheng smiles at the heavenly officials, all teeth and no humour. “You see how eager they can get. Better act wisely.” Nevertheless, he waves the residents away to clear the ground.

“You are the one that needs wisdom,” Mu Qing snarks. “Thinking with your dick lately?”

Hua Cheng simply raises an eyebrow. “If that was supposed to be an insult, do better.” He raises E’ming. “I’m tired of standing still anyway. Fight, or leave.” With that, he launches forward.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing may be stupid, but not slow. They leap into the fight as well.

“Come now, Hua Cheng, your household matters are none of our concern,” Feng Xin says while loosing an arrow. “Just let Dianxia go.”

“What household matters?” Hua Cheng knocks the arrow aside, clashing with Mu Qing’s sabre. "And leaving Dianxia with you imbeciles? Forget it.”

“News is out that you got married,” Mu Qing sneers. “What do you need His Highness for? Bored already? Aren’t you getting too greedy, Crimson Rain? Or are you amassing a harem now –”

Before he can even register that he is moving, Hua Cheng has sidestepped Mu Qing’s blade, twisting neatly until he is inches away from the trash general, E’ming pressed to his throat. He can feel his entire body trembling with pure rage. E’ming bites; blood leaks in a thin line from the pale expanse of Mu Qing’s throat.

“I have said it once and I will say it once more, because I am feeling generous,” Hua Cheng hisses; E’Ming dives a sliver deeper into Xuan Zhen’s neck. His face is white. “Dianxia is here by his own will. There is nothing either manipulating or coercing him to stay with me. He is my honoured guest and I.” He effortlessly blocks Nan Yang’s incoming blow, “Will.” He rams an elbow into Nan Yang’s gut, his scimitar not moving even by a hair, “Not.” His butterflies swarm towards Nan Yang, shrieking, where he falls. “Tolerate. One word of slander about him.”

Feng Xin, of the two, has at least begun to recognise the fight for the loss that it already is. He has turned pale, fingers bleeding without any sign of healing. Hua Cheng doesn’t care.

“Remember,” he growls. “Remember how you two saved your hides back then, when thirty-three others died. It appears that your spoonful of wisdom too is gone now. You can say goodbye to your pathetic little lives.”

“No – I – Crimson Rain, please,” Nan Yang gasps, countless tiny cuts blooming on his skin, “Stop, stop, we give up. He – Mu Qing has always been like this – we surrender. We will just talk. Please. Let us up.”

It is only the thought of Dianxia that saves them that day. Hua Cheng has little desire to comply, but measuring the pros and cons of killing Dianxia’s useless friends (the only con is that Dianxia might be unhappy when he finds out, and that is enough to delicately outweigh the many, many pros), he slowly lowers E’Ming and silently commands the butterflies to retreat. E’Ming has been commanded to not let Xuan Zhen’s wound close just yet, and he watches with silent glee as the trash god’s face twists in pain and frustration when his spiritual power fails to heal him.

“I will count to a hundred,” he says. “That is all the time you will have.”

“Dianxia,” Feng Xin says, “How is he?”

“He has recovered from all injury that I could detect,” Hua Cheng says. “I do not think there is anything further that hurts him. He also has spiritual energy at his disposal, though far less than befits him.”

“Don’t think we trust you,” Mu Qing glowers, his voice satisfyingly grating and gurgling as he speaks. “What unspeakable grudge do you have against His Highness? You – ow!” He glowers at Feng Xin, who just pinched him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nan Yang hisses.

“There is no way Dianxia is here on his own will. Where’s the proof? He is clearly got something against him, like he did with the rest of us! How can you trust him?”

“I don’t trust him at all!” Nan Yang whispers, as if Hua Cheng can’t hear every word they speak. “But at this point, what can we do? Isn’t your throat cut in half enough? Do you have a death wish?”

“I don’t –”

“I cannot handle this anymore, Mu Qing, look at you bleeding –”

“The countdown is at thirty,” Hua Cheng informs them pleasantly.

“We will leave on two conditions,” Feng Xin says in his normal (obnoxiously loud) voice, “first, you will inform His Highness that we –”

Mu Qing elbows him and hisses, “Nan Feng and Fu Yao.” Really, Hua Cheng has to marvel at their idiocy for still holding on to that.

“– Nan Feng and Fu Yao came looking for him. And second, you will let him go the moment he wishes to leave.”

“I don’t think you are in a position to bargain with me,” Hua Cheng says, twirling E’ming in his hand. “But for His Highness’s sake, I will agree to both.” He tilts his head a little. “Oh, look at that. Ten.”

Mu Qing’s face turns blotchy. His robes are stained an ugly red from all the blood. “You –”

“Nine.”

“If Dianxia doesn’t return soon, you –”

“Four.”

“Hey!”

“Three and two and one. Scram.”

Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing look furious and on the verge of saying something else.

“SCRAM!”

With twin glares, the trash generals finally, finally leave.

It takes Hua Cheng longer than usual to regain his composure, to kill the ugly feeling rearing up inside him. With a wave of his hand, he cleans the disgusting blood off E’Ming’s blade. Trash. How dare he imply –

But it has been twice already that he has come across this rumour. What does it even mean? Hua Cheng wonders as he appears in a wave of butterflies at Paradise Manor. He knows that he has been a subject of many, many rumours, some largely unfounded, some surprisingly close to the truth, ever since he became a Devastation rank ghost king. He has never cared to do anything about those rumours, allowing them to run their course, and stoking those that could benefit him. This one – it’s certainly one of the more outlandish ones, if not the most. He, married? Ha! He is fine with ignoring anything that concerns his own reputation – but if it involves His Highness somehow (and how dare that sweeping general imply –)…

The rumour must have spread quite far, Hua Cheng thinks, to have been heard all the way to Heaven, and was evidently started some way or the other by the idiot residents of his city. Then, has Dianxia heard it too? There’s no way he hasn’t. The thought makes Hua Cheng feel unbearably cold. Will this change what Xie Lian thinks of him? Will he be disgusted? He should –

“San Lang!”

Hua Cheng blinks at the figure of his god, resplendent against the light spilling through the doorway. But before he can articulate a greeting, his breath goes out in a sharp gasp as a body hits him with gentle force. Arms are coming around his back, there’s silky hair rubbing against his chest. Oh. Oh.

Xie Lian has come over and glomped him. Hua Cheng’s legs are suddenly so, so weak.

Before his fingers can stop twitching uselessly under Dianxia’s hold and do something useful, like return the embrace, Xie Lian is stepping back, a fiery blush colouring his skin all the way down to his collarbones.

“Hahaha, I am sorry! I overstepped – did I make San Lang uncomfortable?” Xie Lian wrings his hands. “It’s just that San Lang has been standing there for a while, and he looked upset about something, so I thought –”

Hua Cheng’s brain has finally, mercifully kick-started again by that time. “Gege,” he says, and then clears his throat to hide how raspy it sounds. “I am sorry, I was only surprised. Can San Lang ask to be comforted again?”

Xie Lian blushes to the roots of his hair, and Hua Cheng worries that he will refuse, but then he is stepping forward, opening his arms, and Hua Cheng is being enveloped in a much gentler, tentative embrace. He sighs, draping himself around Xie Lian like a limp noodle.

“Gege always has the best ideas,” Hua Cheng mumbles. “This San Lang feels so much better now.” And really, fuck all rumours; Hua Cheng has much better things to do now.

“I’m glad,” Xie Lian, says, his voice all honey and warmth; his arms tighten more securely around him. Hua Cheng thinks he could purr from how his brain is turning into a gooey warm mess.

“Gege, gege,” he croons, feeling particularly shameless, “take me to bed.” But then the implication that the words carry in them catches up with him. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he did it again, didn’t he? One act of kindness, and he became greedy, and how shameless! He freezes in Xie Lian’s embrace even as he feels the sharp intake of breath from Xie Lian, suddenly terrified to pull back and witness his god’s evident disgust. An apology is about to drop from his lips (he will grovel if needed, or if his god wants, he’ll step as far back as he is wanted), when Xie Lian steps back and stoops a little – and holy shit, is that his god’s fingers curling under his knees?? - and then Hua Cheng is being princess carried in Xie Lian’s arms.

Hua Cheng thinks he might faint. He presses his lips tightly together to swallow back a whimper.

“G-gege.”

“Forgive my forwardness,” Xie Lian says as he walks, the slightest hint of teasing in his voice, a contrast to his blushing face. “I thought San Lang wanted to be taken to bed.”

I could just stay here forever, Hua Cheng manages to not say.

In the bliss of being pampered by his beloved, Hua Cheng very conveniently forgets to tell Xie Lian anything about the trash gods, or returning to Heaven in general, until well into the evening two days later.

“Gege,” he finally says, very, very reluctantly, as the two lounge on the divan, “Would you like to return to Heaven?”

He has been showing Xie Lian little tricks with his dice, surreptitiously feeding the god his luck (and most definitely not trying to find excuses to touch His Highness, not at all); Xie Lian has been endlessly entertained, making little sounds of wonder every now and then. Hua Cheng thinks he deserves a prize for being selfless enough to bring the moment to an end with this question.

He understands, however, that this discussion is necessary; he hopes that Xie Lian knows that he is free to leave if he wants to, and not staying here out of some sense of obligation. To his surprise, though, for a second, he thinks he sees a look of disappointment on Xie Lian’s face before it is quickly replaced by the gentle calm of before.

“Would San Lang want me to?” his god asks in turn. Hua Cheng is stumped at the decision being suddenly pushed towards him. Who is he to decide things for Dianxia?

He tells him as much. “Only Dianxia can decide on whatever he chooses. I will never oppose his decisions.”

Xie Lian stares at him, wide-eyed. “San Lang… is too kind,” he says, his voice the slightest bit breathy.

“However, Dianxia should know this – the officials Nan Feng and Fu Yao,” he accompanies this with a severe eye-roll, “came to enquire after him.”

Xie Lian, for some reason, looks at him blankly. “Nan Feng and Fu Yao.”

Hah, wouldn’t it be such a good laugh if Feng Xin and Mu Qing could see Dianxia’s expression right now.

“En,” Hua Cheng says nevertheless. “I understand that Dianxia must find it highly irregular for two middle court officials to come look for him,” because really, even Dianxia must have seen through the idiots’ farce of a disguise by now, but if they are still playing at it, he might as well go on, “but, well –” Hua Cheng pauses. “their generals , Ju Yang and the Sweeping General–” Hua Cheng allows himself a wave of delight at how Xie Lian struggles to contain his smile at the titles, “are concerned about your well-being.” There. He has done more service to Feng Xin and Mu Qing and their (deservingly) broken friendship for two lifetimes and a half; now he can slice off their heads in peace the next time they meet.

Xie Lian’s lips part in shock. “Feng Xin and Mu Qing are worried about me?”

Hua Cheng still wants to lie and say no. But as horrible friends as those two have been, they came looking for Xie Lian when no one else in Heaven did, and they deserve just this small bit of generosity for that and no more. He nods.

“Oh.” Xie Lian appears lost for a few moments. “In that case – I should probably return to heaven.”

“Would gege like me to arrange for his travels? Are you in need of anything? Spiritual powers? Healing salves?” He can feel that he might end up offering a packed lunch and a new wardrobe if he doesn’t stop – which he really wants to, don’t get him wrong, but it might just sound foolish and a little too forward, so he quickly shuts up.

“San Lang is so generous,” Xie Lian says with a smile that brightens his entire face. “But I will be fine.”

“Then pray allow me to offer one last gift,” Hua Cheng says, and conjures a pair of his enchanted dice. “If gege needs me for anything, all he needs to do is roll these dice.”

“Thank you!” Xie Lian looks at them with wide eyes, “but given my luck, I’ll end up rolling only snake eyes.”

“It does not matter what Dianxia rolls. They will always take you to me, and me to you.”

A light blush paints his god’s face. Hua Cheng thinks he looks divine. “This is a precious gift. Thank you, San Lang.”

Hua Cheng knows better than to delay the inevitable, so he bids a quiet goodbye to Xie Lian the next morning. At the final moment, he takes Xie Lian’s hand, silently channelling spiritual powers to him. Of course, this doesn’t escape his god’s notice; Xie Lian only gives a little exasperated laugh, but then smiles gratefully all the same. His face is tinted a soft pink.

“If any of the trash in Heaven bothers you, just send me the word,” he jokes. “I will get rid of them for you, and burn their temples.”

“San Lang!” Xie Lian laughs, Hua Cheng likes to think he also looks a little pleased, “So unruly!”

Their laughter tapers off into soft chuckles, then to companionable silence. This is probably when Xie Lian should leave, but at that moment, neither of them moves.

“Does gege have something to say to me?” Hua Cheng enquires at the flickering hesitation alight on his god’s face. “Pray gege tell this San Lang.”

“A-ah, it’s nothing, really,” Xie Lian says bashfully. “I– had just been wondering if I could see San Lang’s true form.”

Ah, his beloved, so clever – to have discerned from that one slip in the main hall. Hua Cheng fights to hold his smile. His silence must have stretched too long, because Xie Lian says quickly:

“Ah, never mind, never mind. I was just asking, don’t take it to heart.”

But he doesn’t want to disappoint his god. He doesn’t want to fail this one request His Highness has made after all this time. And yet –

“If –If I was ugly –” he begins, looking down, struggling to articulate the centuries’ worth of self-hatred.

“San Lang?” Xie Lian says, sounding gobsmacked.

He finally meets his god’s eyes. “If my real face is ugly, would you still want to see it? If I were a monster – something disfigured, hideous – would you still want to see it?” Would you still want to be around me?

Xie Lian smiles then, softly, warmly, like the rays of the rising sun amidst a winter landscape. “I would,” he says, and oh, he sounds so firm, Hua Cheng sucks in an involuntary breath. “I do not think that there is any part of San Lang that could possibly be hideous. Besides, to be honest, the reason I want to see your real face is only because, you see, we’re already like this…”

Hua Cheng blinks, his lips twitching upwards. “Oh? Like what?”

Is it a trick of the light, or is His Highness’s face slightly pink? “Oh, you know. That we – well, we like each other, and spent all this time together, and in – the way we are to each other, we should be honest with each other, right? So it’s just like this – I will not worry about how you look. It won’t change anything between us.”

Hua Cheng really wants to kiss him then, or kneel before him and cry a little. Instead, he laughs slightly, and says, “Next time.”

Xie Lian leans a little closer. “Hm?”

“Next time I see you,” Hua Cheng promises, and his voice dips into a whisper, “I will greet you in my true form.”

Xie Lian’s eyes widen, sparkle. “Then, I look forward to it.”

As Hua Cheng smiles helplessly at Xie Lian, his god smiling back, he sees Xie Lian’s fingers twitch a little, in anticipation. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, the god raises his hands and gently places them on Hua Cheng’s cheeks.

“Be good,” he whispers, with a hint of mischief, and then he is gone, leaving Hua Cheng to stand there like the lovesick fool he is, touching his cheeks in wonder.

‘Black Water.’

-

‘Hey. Don’t ignore me.’

-

‘Your silence is pretty loud. Don’t think I can’t tell you’re listening.’

-

- ‘What.’

‘How is His Highness?’

- ‘Didn’t you send him off to Heaven, what, today?’

‘None of your business. Answer the question.’

- ‘He seems to be doing fine.’

‘Who is he talking to? Is anyone bothering him?’

- ‘That’s stalkerish behaviour, I hope you know that.’

‘Oh? Then why don’t we start talking about your behaviour with a certain Wind –’

- ‘He is talking to those friends of his. Thanking them for Nang Feng and whatever the other one is called. They’ll probably braid each other’s hair now. Stop bothering me.’

‘Black Water.’

- ‘Don’t you have a city to run? I am busy.’

‘You have too many clones to do your work. Shut it.’

- ‘Is this about Xie Lian again?’

‘Don’t you dare call him by his name, you –’

- ‘Ming Guang returned from whatever woman he had been chasing and has cornered him for some idle gossip. Ugh, Xie Lian just said that you treated him wonderfully, and spoiled him far more than he deserves. There, happy?’

‘…’

- ‘Oi, did you die again or something?’

‘…I’m listening.’

- ‘Ming Guang said –’ a groan sounds across the communication array between the two Supremes. ‘– never mind, I am NOT going to repeat that.’

‘Is it something against His Highness? Do I need to burn Pei Ming’s temples –?’

- ‘Calm the fuck down.’ A sigh. ‘It’s just – it isn’t offensive, don’t worry about it. Xie Lian is blushing.’

‘…’

- ‘I can hear you drinking vinegar over there.’

‘Another word about it, and I double your debt.’

- ‘Tsk. Childish.’

- ‘Oh, among other things. I demand a banquet.’

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng tries to not appear lonely in the days after His Highness left—focus being on ‘tries’. Apart from riling up He Xuan to prod details of his god’s whereabouts in Heaven out of him—including interrogations on whether he is being bothered even the slightest by anyone, whether he is eating well, sleeping well (Black Water eventually goes back to ignoring his calls in spite of the threats and coaxing)—he spends most of his time at Qiandeng Temple trying to school himself through prayers and meditation. To his immense shame, it does not kill his greed, so he strolls the streets of Ghost City impatiently, metes out punishments and verdicts in the Gamblers’ Den as the useless trash lose to him (whispers spread across Ghost City on how Chengzhu’s wife left him and broke his heart, which is why he has been crushing all the gamblers underfoot—only to be hushed quickly with fearful looks), and spends his days in the suddenly infinitely more empty Paradise Manor in great impatience. He could wait eight hundred years, but now that he has finally tasted the nectar of his god’s presence and his benevolence, he is like a man with endless thirst, endless gluttony; his resentment at the renewed state of solitude blazes out of him, strengthening his menacing aura. Even Yin Yu steers clear of him most of the time.

Then, one day, not long after Xie Lian’s departure, He Xuan opens their communication array on his own.

‘Xie Lian’s leaving.’

Hua Cheng trips over his own feet.

‘What??’

‘I heard him and Ling Wen discussing the matter of worshippers today. He wants to go down to the mortal realm and build himself a shrine.’ He Xuan’s scepticism at the plan is audible. But Hua Cheng cannot help the fond smile that rises to his lips, the first since Xie Lian left. His god, always carving a third path.

‘Keep me updated on the details.’

From then on, it is just about the only thing Hua Cheng can think about. How should he go and meet His Highness? Should he visit Puqi village (the location, which He Xuan mentions to him soon enough) right away, or should he give it a few days? Will it be overwhelming for Xie Lian to meet him again, so soon? After all, he just helped him recuperate, and has no further claim on him. But Hua Cheng knows he is too selfish to just let go of His Highness, to not try and protect him to the best of his abilities. Zhongyuan is coming up, and knowing that the useless trash Qi Rong might want to cause to trouble for His Highness, Hua Cheng knows that there is no way he is going to let His Highness be on his own at least on that day. Maybe he could take up a disguise and spend a few days around His Highness beforehand—maybe a young farmer? But after the past week in His Highness’s company, Hua Cheng is not confident that he will be able to stay at a good enough distance from him.

Maybe he could take up an unobtrusive form and—but what if His Highness recognises him? He can pretend that he’s just passing by, that it’s only a coincidence. He frequently finds himself shifting seamlessly from one fake skin to the next, observing through one of his butterflies, hating, changing again. Younger now, older again, male, female, hair in a braid, a high ponytail, or left undone, robes loose, tight, long, short, revealing, one eye, both eyes. Every once a while he pauses on his true form, in the privacy of his own room, and hates, hates profoundly. But oh, he has promised to be in his true form when he meets him next, and far be it from him to break a promise to his god. So much for a subtle entrance—

In the end, though, it turns out that there was no need to scheme at all.

Hua Cheng has been idling behind the red curtains at the Gambler’s Den that day, simply because he found nothing better to do at the Paradise Manor. The crowd is more excited than usual, the place more crowded, as typically happens when he is here. The stakes are always higher too, as the gamblers dare to ask for higher prizes simply with the hopes of winning against him.

Fools.

Hua Cheng watches as a squat, masked ghost rolls a four and a five on his turn. The ghost merchant has asked for five horse carts full of gold to start a new business enterprise after his last attempt tanked, and has betted all four of his limbs for it—a relatively boring bet, considering everything. Hua Cheng takes up his dice on his turn, delicately shaking the black cup in his hand. His hand is just about to open to throw the dice, when there is a small shift in the air around him, and without warning, a weight in the shape of a person in white lands right on his lap.

“San Lang!”

Hua Cheng’s brain whites out. The dice launch out of his hand and clatter to the table beyond the curtain.

The croupier announces the score, her voice hitching: a three and a four.

Outside, the rest of the Gambler’s Den has gone completely silent at the unexpected result. Even the merchant who challenged Hua Cheng looks like he cannot believe what just happened. But Hua Cheng’s world has narrowed down to the warm body that has landed on him, belonging to none other than Taizi Dianxia Xie Lian. His hands, one still clutching the cup, twitch a little where they are grabbing on to Xie Lian’s waist in order to hold him securely, torn between holding tighter and moving away.

Said god, on his part, seems to be only just realising his predicament. His hand which somehow landed on Hua Cheng’s chest unclenches, revealing the pair of enchanted dice Hua Cheng had gifted him.

“San Lang!” he says again, twitching a little to put some distance between them. His face is rapidly turning bright read. “I—I am so sorry, I had no idea I’d fall on top of you—did it hurt? I –”

Xie Lian’s voice carries over to the rest of the Gambler’s Den, immediately causing a stir.

“Hey, who’s there? How did he get there with Chengzhu?”

“Is that—hey, isn’t it Granduncle?”

“Granduncle!”

“GRANDUNCLE!”

“Did you hear that voice? GRANDUNCLE’S BACK!”

“HURRAY FOR LORD CHENGZHU’S HEART!”

“HURRAY FOR LORD CHENGZHU!”

Hua Cheng rolls his eyes and ignores them. Hurray for Lord Chengzhu’s heart indeed, he thinks wryly.

“Gege, don’t worry,” he says, holding in place a Xie Lian who is trying to wriggle away from his lap (and while it’s not effective on his part, the movements are having other embarrassing side effects on Hua Cheng). “This one is very okay. In fact, this one is very happy gege is here. Did gege come here especially to see me?”

“Well,” Xie Lian fidgets a little. “I came to the mortal realm to make a shrine for myself, ah, to earn some merits, gather followers. That having settled, of course I wanted to come back to San Lang.” Hua Cheng’s dead heart lurches. “Also, I wanted to invite San Lang to come visit the shrine with me, if he wants to. I used the dice to come here, but,” Xie Lian blushes again, once more conscious of their position, “it seems that I chose an inconvenient time.”

“Not at all,” Hua Cheng says easily. He feels like his entire soul might melt out of pure joy. “Does gege want to leave now? Let’s go then. But before that,” he smiles, hesitating but determined, remembering his promise. “Watch, gege.” And with no small amount of trepidation, he takes a deep and unnecessary breath, and shifts into his true form.

Xie Lian jolts violently in his lap. “S-san Lang!” he gasps. “Don’t suddenly turn big!”

Hua Cheng chuckles. “Apologies, gege. But I did promise to greet gege in his true form when we met again.”

All at once, the embarrassment on Xie Lian’s face transforms to wonder. “So, this is your real appearance!” His eyes, bright gold, trace Hua Cheng’s hair, his face, his shoulders. His hands seem to rise to touch his face without their owner’s conscious consent, and Hua Cheng stills when the gentlest touch of His Highness’s fingertips grazes his forehead, briefly touching his widow’s peak. They drift down to his brows, and flutter against the skin below his eyepatch, before lowering to his cheeks, then throat, then chest. Hua Cheng’s insides are tightening, seizing up; he thinks he might burst into flames. Without his bidding, a choking whine escapes before he can press his lips together. It jolts Xie Lian out of his intent stare, and shades his cheeks pink.

“Hahaha, sorry, sorry –” he bites his lip, then lightly slaps Hua Cheng’s shoulder. “Not bad,” he says with an earnest smile.

Hua Cheng smiles back at him, relaxing as if his heart didn’t just want to start up again and beat at the double. At the same time, though, the pit in his stomach settles a little, his appearance finally having received His Highness’s easy acceptance, his approval. The memory of sobbing out his heart and soul in the arms of the same man, centuries ago, winks before his eyes. The only one to accept him, the only one ever to save him. His god.

“Gege, are you hungry?” he asks. “I would like nothing more than to straightaway visit gege’s shrine, but if gege wants, let us stop here for a meal.”

“No need, no need,” Xie Lian says quickly, flustered. “I can cook for the both of us at the shrine. It won’t be much, but if San Lang doesn’t mind –”

“I would like nothing better,” Hua Cheng says truthfully. “Off we go, then.” And placing an arm under his god’s knees, Hua Cheng easily shifts from his lap to his arms as he rises. Xie Lian squeaks.

“S-San Lang! There is no need –”

“Get comfortable, gege. It’s all fine.”

The Gamblers’ Den falls completely silent as Hua Cheng steps out from behind the red curtain, carrying Xie Lian.

“My Lord –” the croupier steps up deferentially.

“Continue business as usual. I am leaving for now.” Hua Cheng looks at the merchant cowering with hopeful eyes near the table. “And tell Waning Moon to give this guy his due from my coffers.” The merchant visibly trembles, before falling to the floor in a kowtow.

“Ch-chengzhu is most gracious!”

Hua Cheng pays no attention to the crowd as he walks carrying his god to the front door. At some point, Xie Lian has hidden his blushing face in the crook of Hua Cheng’s neck. It’s thankful that his true form does not have a heartbeat, Hua Cheng thinks, because there’s no way His Highness wouldn’t be able to hear his heart beating to the point of bursting at this.

Hushed whispers and shouted cheers follow the two of them as they leave the Gamblers’ Den. The excitement of the crowd seems to be reaching a peak.

“The lord changed his skin again today?”

“I’m dying, his new skin is killing me! It’s so tender and firm!”

“Dying, you old hag? More like asking for a death wish! How dare you say such things in front of –”

“Do you think Granduncle is lucky for us? Maybe we can win if he’s around!”

“Of course he should be around more! Did you see how happy Chengzhu looks just now?”

“Carrying him just like a queen, in that brand new skin too—aiya, my heart cannot take it –”

“Chengzhu’s really met his match, ah –”

“Of course he has, our Chengzhu’s the best!”

“Only Chengzhu can get such a pretty wife! That’s our Chengzhu!”

“Did you see how Chengzhu lost so beautifully for him? So splendid, brings tears to my eyes!”

“None but our lord could show us such a perfect loss! Beautiful!”

“Showing his love through loss, such passion! Ah, if only my husband were even half as wonderful –”

“You—I am right here –?!?”

Luckily or unluckily, the god and ghost have disappeared long before the first of the whispers (growing progressively louder) could reach them.

Hua Cheng realises a bit too late that he hasn’t asked His Highness anything about the details of his shrine before transporting them directly to Puqi village, and has therefore effectively exposed himself.

His Highness, though, doesn’t seem to mind at all. His face is only alight with a secret little smile, bright with amusement.

Hua Cheng clears his throat. “Pray gege show me the way to the shrine.”

Xie Lian, in his infinite patience, does not call Hua Cheng out on his ruse, and humours him anyway. “It’s right around the corner, and then a short climb. But San Lang, if you don’t put me down, I am afraid they’ll think the priest of this poor little shrine is too pampered, ah.” Xie Lian laughs awkwardly.

“As is only fitting,” Hua Cheng smirks. He gently tightens his hold, allowing Xie Lian to settle more comfortably against him. His Highness’s face has taken on such a rosy glow, ablaze with shyness; Hua Cheng simply cannot get enough of it. As they walk, Hua Cheng takes on a younger, more petite form, once again with both eyes intact. Xie Lian startles a little, then smiles.

“I thought it would be easier to blend in, this way,” Hua Cheng explains, tossing his hair to have his ponytail wave around a little. “What does gege think?”

“I think San Lang is far too handsome in any form to really blend in,” Xie Lian murmurs, but then claps his hand over his mouth, face turning red.

“Is that so?” Hua Cheng says, amused, all the while his dead heart does a triple backflip. “Won’t gege tell me more?”

“San Lang…” Xie Lian whines, dragging out the ‘Lang’ in a way that is unfairly adorable. “Aren’t you just fishing for compliments now?”

As walk by the small, scattered settlements, Hua Cheng notices people start to come out to greet them.

“Daozhang, hello!”

“Hey, the head priest is back!”

“Look at the handsome companion he has brought!”

Xie Lian’s blush intensifies, but he hasn’t explicitly asked to be put down, so Hua Cheng takes it as permission to keep going like this. Around them, men and women are staring with some amount of wonder.

“Hello, hello everyone!” His Highness calls as they pass. “I’m back! Thank you for your kindness!”

“Young daozhang, what’s with that handsome fellow carrying you?” an old woman calls gleefully. “Did you run off and get married?”

Her daughter looks torn between embarrassment and curiosity. “Mother, don’t be like this!” she scolds.

“Aiyah, why shouldn’t I? Such a handsome couple they make!”

Xie Lian covers his face with his hands, and laughs embarrassedly. “Oh—well—hm, that’s right! Hahaha! Isn’t he so handsome, ah?”

Hua Cheng only raises his eyebrows, pretending that the unexpected charade had not just stunned him hard enough to see stars. Well, he should play along, then.

“My dear husband shouldn’t be so forward about such things,” he murmurs in His Highness’s ears, feigning familiarity with the narrative. “His San Lang might become insatiable from all this praise.”

Xie Lian smiles, looking fond. His face is bright red. The villagers around them are cooing; someone even wolf-whistles. “But then, husband was the one fishing for compliments moments ago.”

“Gege, you caught me,” Hua Cheng laughs.

“San Lang, so insincere!”

“Gege, no!”

“Daozhang, where do they make such good husbands?” One young woman calls, chuckling, bringing them out from their banter. “I’ll have to go out looking.”

And His Highness smiles a secret, secret smile and says, “Just call it my good fortune.” If this joke goes on for much longer, Hua Cheng might actually die.

“San Lang has carried me long enough,” Xie Lian finally says with a laugh, between sharing pleasantries with the residents. “Spouses should not be so pampered, ah.”

“Well, my bride will only have the best,” Hua Cheng boasts playfully, as they pass the last of the crowd by. “So gege should be prepared.” But he lets go of his god all the same, carefully letting his feet touch the ground.

As the two of them climb the hill towards Puqi shrine, Xie Lian talks. “I’m afraid it’s rather run down,” he says. “The place wasn’t originally mine anyway, and I heard it housed a number of passers-by. It’s much shabbier than anything in the Ghost City; you probably won’t be comfortable at all.” He looks away into the distance and smiles. “But I wanted San Lang to have a look, anyway.”

For once, Hua Cheng does not have a ready answer. His heart feels so full, and his fingers twitch towards his god’s, but he keeps them in check. Yet, it is Xie Lian’s hand that brushes against his in the span of a few steps, then takes hold.

“It’s a bit of a rough path along here,” he says, although his growing blush betrays him, “Steady, now.”

And yet Xie Lian’s grip does not disappear when the path turns from brambly to smooth and dusty, only latches tighter around Hua Cheng’s finger with gentle security. Allowing his wild joy to escape only through a small smile, Hua Cheng returns the gesture.

The shrine is actually every bit as run down as Xie Lian had described. But there are all the signs of his god’s meticulous work— the little front yard swept clean, the dry leaves heaped in a neat pile on one side. At the entrance, a thin curtain flutters, evidently recently put up, covered with talismans.

“Haha, it’s—really not much,” Xie Lian says, scratching the back of his neck with visible awkwardness.

“It’s charming, gege,” Hua Cheng smiles. He is already planning what he can do about the place—building a door is a must, and then fixing the roof, and oh, there’s a hole in the wall, too, but His Highness seems to be looking at it with a fondly exasperated gaze, so—

The first thing that he notices once they step inside the sparse little hut is the bare stretch over the altar. The altar—a rickety table, in truth, put to that use—itself has been adequately, if sparsely, decorated—with offerings of a few fruits, mostly water chestnuts, and some lit incense sticks.

“The villagers were very kind,” Xie Lian has been saying. “They even donated a broom, and all those water chestnuts. Here, San Lang, have some.” And Hua Cheng finds himself with a handful of water chestnuts which his god peels (for HIM , a part of him crows in delight) before his eyes. He remembers a fruit dropped from the altar in yet another dilapidated shrine, centuries ago, and blinks back the surge of emotions at the unwavering kindness of his god.

“There’s a river at the foot of the hill, and there are rice fields. We could go for a walk there, I think. Ah, but San Lang, is this okay? I only put together the very basic things, but I really don’t need much more.”

“En, it’s quite comfortable,” Hua Cheng says. “But gege, aren’t you missing something in this shrine?”

Xie Lian’s brows furrow gently. “Other than followers, I don’t think there’s anything missing.”

“What about the divine statue of the god?”

Hua Cheng can see the moment the realisation dawns with the force of lightning on Xie Lian, before being quickly smoothened away. “I can’t believe I forgot that,” he murmurs, wincing, before looking up, “I have been collecting this and that in the neighbourhood, since I came down. I’ll buy some paper and ink, and draw a portrait.”

“Will gege let me?”

“Hm?” Xie Lian startles a little.

“Draw a portrait of the Crown Prince of Xianle.”

Xie Lian’s eyes turn wide and shiny. “San Lang can paint? You are really too talented, ah.”

Hua Cheng laughs. “It’s nothing, just a hobby.”

“But San Lang—do you –”

“Yes, gege?”

“It’s nothing. Never mind.” Xie Lian looks away.

For the rest of the late afternoon and evening, Xie Lian takes him out and about Puqi village, and talks about his plans to gather worshippers.

“It is not like I am particularly interested in my ascension, or in remaining in that state,” he says by way of explanation, “But since I happen to be a god, I really need to gather some followers to keep the trade going.”

“I am sure gege will be wildly successful,” Hua Cheng says easily. He believes it too, of course. There is a lonely sort of pride—some secret smugness too, some golden crumbs of self-worth—in being His Highness’s only follower. But Hua Cheng wants him to have the whole world at his feet. His Highness deserves to have a world of devotees, and so what if Hua Cheng is no longer the only one? What if he is once again made into that grimy little boy, sneaking out with His Highness’s red coral pearl, wishing he could bury that little, precious trinket into the very fibres of his heart—quiet, secretive, insignificant? Hua Cheng has made and remade himself out of his devotion. He will become anything that His Highness needs him to be.

Is it his imagination, or are His Highness’s cheeks dusted with soft pink in the dying sunlight? “I’ll believe it if San Lang says so,” he says quietly, much to Hua Cheng’s delight. “I don’t need much though.” The silent not anymore hovers, with soft melancholy.

They walk down to the river, walking side by side. Apart from a few villagers scattered across the distant rice fields, they are by themselves. In the golden light of the western sun, His Highness looks radiant.

“How about fish for dinner?” Xie Lian proposes.

“Only if gege lets me help out.” Hua Cheng smiles.

Xie Lian acquiesces, and so enables a simple chore that soon transforms into a display of spearing fish in more and more outlandish ways.

“How about the large one there?” Xie Lian enthusiastically points out. Hua Cheng hangs upside down from a nearby tree and neatly spears it with a dry branch. To his delight, His Highness is laughing breathlessly.

“San Lang is too amazing, ah,” he says, wiping tears of laughter. And then himself does a series of three flips, throwing his branch without looking, and stabs a big fish right through. Hua Cheng is smitten, of course.

“Gege far surpasses me.”

Their ridiculous little game means that they have a big basketful of fresh catch to haul back up to Puqi shrine. Xie Lian puts some away to salt, and they roast the rest for their meal, sitting by a fire under the cover of the starry sky.

Even as they finish eating, Hua Cheng can see Xie Lian hesitating.

“Is something on gege’s mind?” he asks.

“I’m guessing San Lang would have work left at Ghost City?”

“Of course I would not leave gege for anything,” Hua Cheng declares, and then pouts dramatically, “Unless gege wants to send me away so he can invite someone else to warm his bed?”

Surprisingly, it generates a rather intense reaction from his god. In an instant, Xie Lian’s face has turned read, his expression one of outrage. “San Lang!!” he yelps. “Of course I won’t! How can you—”

“Sorry, sorry,” Hua Cheng says quickly with a helpless laugh. “Don’t be mad, gege, I was wrong. Of course your San Lang will stay wherever you are.”

The blush lingers on His Highness’s cheeks, but he also looks content. “Then I’ll lay out the bed.” Soon a hay bed is smoothed out, and Xie Lian lays out his outer robe on it. They lie down side by side, and Hua Cheng blows out the lone candle in the room. The night quietens around them.

“Goodnight, San Lang,” Xie Lian murmurs, and slowly settles.

“Good night, gege,” Hua Cheng says, but does not sleep. Of course he doesn’t. As a ghost, he no longer needs sleep; and when lying beside Xie Lian, how could he give up moments of precious company?

So Hua Cheng lies awake, his eyes closed and by all appearances asleep, hearing the wind whistle through the hole in the shrine and His Highness’s soft breathing, and savours the soft warmth of His Highness’s body right up against him. Once he is sure Xie Lian is deeply asleep, he stealthily gets up to paint as promised. It does not take him long, but he stares at the scroll for a long time, turning often to the person asleep on the shabby bed of hay. Once he is satisfied, he comes back to Xie Lian’s side, carefully positioned on his side now so that he can look upon his beloved’s face.

It’s a face that Hua Cheng has lived and died for, a face whose likeness—crude, helpless efforts—he has chiselled onto stone countless times. The serene brows curving gently, the sharp proud tapering of the nose, the lashes that quiver minutely in his sleep. The rosebud mouth that gave his whole being a meaning. Hua Cheng wants so badly to kiss it. Hua Cheng stares, content, and burns. Burns, burns, burns.

He is so lost in gazing at Xie Lian’s face that he is a little unprepared for His Highness to open his eyes in the middle of the night. Oh well, too late to feign sleep now.

Hua Cheng watches the thin layer of sleepy confusion clear away from Xie Lian’s eyes, slipping into a soft, vulnerable smile that trickles onto his lips. Hua Cheng wants. He doesn’t move.

“San Lang can’t sleep?” Xie Lian asks. “Are you uncomfortable?” His hand lifts, hesitates. Hua Cheng watches, rapt, as it hovers, and finally lands on his cheek, infinitely gently, with a soft, trembling shyness. Oh. Oh.

“Not at all, gege,” Hua Cheng says easily. “I just woke up for a little bit.”

“Hm.” Xie Lian seems to be lost in some thought, his brows scrunching ever so slightly. Hua Cheng has easy, cheeky nothings ready on his tongue, meant to lighten the air and send them back to sleep, but something tells him to keep quiet and wait.

“It’s a little cold, isn’t it?” Xie Lian says. Hua Cheng does not point out that as a ghost, he doesn’t really feel anything that way. He is preparing to use his outer robe to cover Xie Lian, when His Highness continues. “Would—ah, would it be more comfortable if—”

Hua Cheng waits. But the words never come. Instead, he has a brief glimpse of his god’s reddening face, before their bodies are tightly, clumsily, pulled together.

Hua Cheng could really die again.

“Gege, so forward!” he says lightly, valiantly trying to hide the breathlessness of his voice. He feels more than hears Xie Lian’s shy laughter, vibrating across their bodies, pressed side by side.

“It’s warmer this way. Sleep, San Lang,” comes the muffled command, mumbled into red robes. Hua Cheng drapes his outer robe over them both, then adjusts their positions so that his arms can wrap around Xie Lian.

“Yes, gege,” Hua Cheng says, smiling helplessly, and really does sleep.

Who knows after how many long years—Hua Cheng sleeps, and sleeps soundly. He only wakes when the warm body besides him moves. He slowly opens his eyes, only to see His Highness energetically moving towards his earthen stove. Hua Cheng knows he should move, that he should get up and casually smile, saying, “Sleep well, gege?”

But he doesn't. He can’t. A fine tremor runs through him.

Because even as he felt His Highness move, he felt something else—a soft, tender and moist touch pressed across his forehead, then his lips.

Did His Highness just kiss him????