Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

Xie Lian was full of regret.

He had always seen himself as a man willing to accept punishment that was due, to face consequences for his actions, but an eternity trapped in a coffin was a hard pill to swallow. 

To his credit, it took a few years, and an uncountable number of “deaths” before he realized the full weight of it. Most of all, he regretted agreeing to become the State Preceptor in the first place. All the horrors that came after were probably somehow his fault. This is what happened when he stayed in one place for too long. Disaster was always sure to catch up to him if he gave it the time. That’s what it was to be a God of Misfortune.

While he couldn't say he regretted finishing off the King of Yong’an, he did regret being caught. He regretted letting Lang Qianqiu have his misinformed revenge. He regretted playing dead.

He didn’t know he wouldn’t be able to escape.

Xie Lian reached up through the pitch black, pressing against the wooden lid of the coffin with the palm of his hand, checking to see if it gave at all. It was pretty solid.

At least my coffin is high quality hardwood, he thought ruefully.

He knocked a few times. It didn’t seem too thick to punch through. 

Even now, he could still see the look of betrayal on the King’s face– the same look that had been on Prince An Le’s. They both thought he was their ally as he ended their lives. He knew he deserved pain. With every heartbeat came a horrible tear from the wooden stake that was pinning him down. His hunger was eating him alive, literally. He’d wanted to be punished for awhile, and he had, but he was done pouting. 

Even if the image of that sweet boy’s tear-streaked face haunted him forever, laying here like this didn’t fix anything. He didn’t know what he had been trying to prove by becoming the State Preceptor, but what was done was done. He would find another way to atone. 

He didn’t have a lot of strength left, but this coffin lid should be easy enough to break. He brought his arm back down, took a breath, and struck hard. The lid shattered from top to bottom with the force of his blow. Hundreds of little pieces of wood rained down upon him.

It was still dark. Pitch dark. 

Confused, he reached up again. There was something solid in the dark above him—solid and cold. It felt like stone. No, it was too perfectly smooth to be stone. Marble. This was a layered coffin.

Oh no.

He gave it a push. It was heavy. He reached up with both hands and pushed with all his might, that wooden dowel in his heart spurting blood with the effort. No movement at all, not an inch. 

No no no no no.

He panted in the dark as panic started to grip him. He did as before, he steadied his aim and struck at the coffin lid with his fist. He heard a sickening crack, but it didn’t come from the marble. Pain was radiating down his arm. He didn’t know if he was simply too weak from hunger or if the marble was just that thick.

Had he waited too long? By punishing himself, had he actually doomed himself? He knew he had made mistakes in life, but even he didn’t deserve to be buried alive for eternity!

He laughed suddenly. He was jarred by the loudness of it, but he laughed until bitter tears fell from his eyes. Of course. What else could he possibly expect at this point? If he had known this was coming, he would have disappeared into the sunset long before the Crown Prince could even hope to catch up to him. 

This was the beginning of the real punishment. 

He didn’t give up on punching through that marble lid for a long time. He tried and tried. Tried until most of the bones in his hands were broken. Ruoye tried too, but the silk ribbon was made for slashing, not brute force. After the third time his hands healed back, he could no longer punch hard enough to break anything, not even his own bones. 

Time passed painfully slowly, not that he had any means of judging it. He laid here forgotten, left with nothing but time to think of what he could have done differently. Time to lament the choices he made. He may not be able to see in here, but hindsight is always 20/20. 

Xie Lian had to face reality: He could not escape on his own, and this body was never going to quit. 

His traitorous heart, despite being pinned to the ground, just wouldn’t stop beating. With every beat, that deep, dull ache. On and on. 

He didn’t know why his body insisted on making more blood. The coffin became soiled with it very early on, but thankfully it seemed there was somewhere for it to go. He was still laying in a congealed pool 2 inches thick, but he supposed it could be worse. He’d had some pretty awful dreams of drowning in it. It was already cold in here, and being wet just made it colder. 

It would be so much easier if that heart would just stay still. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d wished for it, but Xie Lian eventually longed to die.

To end all this.

The actual worst part of being buried alive—worse than the ache of his heart, the stench and filth, the pitch blackness, the gnawing hunger and thirst—truly the worst part was that there was so very little room for hope.  It was the sorrow of knowing there was no way out of this. No one in the world even knew him or his actual identity, and no one would be looking for him. Just another regret. By isolating himself, now there was no one to save him.

At some point he became desperate enough to pray.

Jun Wu… this is Xianle. I don’t know if you can hear me… I have no altar to pray at. I have no incense or offerings. I’m sorry. I just… I need help. Please hear me. Please help me.

He cried into the void, the sound of his broken voice echoing around him. 

I know I was a failure of a god. I know I don’t deserve your attention… or your time. But I swear, if you just come find me, get me out of here, I’ll do anything you ask. Anything at all!

He didn’t even know if these prayers could make their way to Heaven. Even if they could, Jun Wu was the most widely worshiped of all gods—could his voice even possibly stick out among the millions? Especially with nothing to offer back?

Feng Xin? Can you hear me? Or, no, General Nan Yang? I… I wouldn’t call upon you unless I had no other choice but… I need you. I need someone’s help… if you could just… send me some help.

Mu Qing…? 

No. He just couldn’t. He knew Mu Qing had no reason to help.

He sobbed and begged for untold hours, to every god he’d even heard the name of. He didn't know if his prayers were not heard, or if truly no one in Heaven still cared about him at all. He wouldn’t be surprised either way.

As he prayed for absolution, Ruoye came slinking out of his sleeves, wiping at his tears, trying to pet him reassuringly. At least he wasn’t alone alone. He wished the silk ribbon could talk to him. He wished he could send it out to get help.

Jun Wu, it’s Xianle again. If you are really that angry at me for turning my ascension down, please just… just tell me what you want me to do to repent. Just give me the chance! I’m sorry! Just- just get me out of this coffin and I’ll… I’ll… Anything, I swear! 

Feng Xin, I’m sorry, I’ll never ask for anything else, I promise! Just for old times sake! If there’s still any part of you that cares about me at all, just let me know you can hear me!

Mu Qing… would you at least come look at what I’ve gotten myself into now? Won’t you come and mock me?

But he wouldn’t. Of course not. Xie Lian had burnt that bridge completely. So many burnt bridges to Heaven.

Jun Wu? Nan Yang…? Anyone? Do I really deserve this?!

Xie Lian had hoped that, just maybe, Feng Xin or Jun Wu would still take pity on his worthless soul. Days passed by, and he didn’t even get so much as a dream in response. Not even a rejection. Not even a ‘you got yourself into this’.

No one came from Heaven to help, and so, what little hope he had left quietly died. 

The minutes, the days, the hours, and years passed by him, and he was conscious for smaller and smaller stretches of it; there were only short moments when he wasn't sleeping or simply blacked out from hunger or blood loss. He stayed awake long enough to feel all the infected sores where his body made contact with the wooden bottom of the coffin. Long enough to scream and flail, just to hear something real and feel something different before he was dragged under again. 

He could feel Ruoye attempt to comfort him in these times, but there was only so much the ribbon could do. For years he talked to Ruoye just so he would remember how, but after enough time he didn't bother anymore.

The longer he was in the dark, the harder it got to tell his dreams from reality. Eventually, this horrible coffin became his only grounding factor. His pain was the only thing in the world that was real. Time was irrelevant. It didn’t even exist anymore. 

One moment he was a child again, running around the palace, barefoot and carefree.

The next he was performing on the streets to a cheering crowd, an immortal scrap collector.

Then he found himself a prince and a god, in the midst of a war, shouts and screams and the clanging of swords. An impossible enemy before him, protected from him by fate itself.

But as always, eventually, he was back in the Dark.

In his dreams there was light and color and sound and feelings that were not pain and discomfort. It was a kind of freedom. The dreams were cruel though, too—they were only a temporary escape. They often reminded him of better times, which made waking up back here again a miserable affair. The worst dreams were the ones in which he was finally rescued from the coffin. 

Usually someone from Heaven would arrive and pull him out into the light, or some passersby would hear his cries and investigate. Of course, it wasn’t about the dream itself—it was the despair that gripped him after. To find out that no such thing had happened, and there was no end to his suffering was the worst kind of torture.

He preferred nightmares of the war or plague, or The Temple, his parents' death, or the death of his last believer—those were all old mundane torments he could live with. The rescue dreams caused the loss of his hope again and again, and he just never learned his lesson. In these dreams he always wholly believed he was saved at last. Realizing that wasn’t the case afterward was always wholly devastating. He never dreamed of escaping on his own.

Rescue dreams were thankfully scarce as time went on. He spent most of his dreams remembering his time as the State Preceptor and of watching Lang Qianqiu growing up.

Gently correcting his posture with a sword in hand. Telling him when to exhale.

Scolding him and making him write twice as many lines when he fell asleep.

It was the closest he would probably ever feel to being a parent, though he had made an effort to keep distance between them. He was still proud of the man Lang Qianqiu had become, and proud to have helped guide him there. Such a loving and loyal son—to lose his parents in such a brutal way was deeply unfair. He knew he would have to take the blame, to hurt him and be hated by him, so he wanted to at least give the boy the satisfaction of punishing his family's murderer. Lang Qianqiu could find closure and move on, and Xie Lian's own people would remain safe under his noble care. 

It felt like a small price to pay.

He now regretted his kindness. He’d had too much time to think and become selfish.

It took an impressive amount of time, but Xie Lian finally stopped thinking about anything at all. He no longer even dreamed. It was a relief. There was just nothingness—not hardly even pain, though the pain was also never entirely gone. He learned to ignore it well and let it linger far in the background as long as he didn’t focus on it. His body gave up on asking for food altogether.

Alive or dead, awake or asleep, now there was just dark and quiet and stillness. The only thing that existed was the relentless thump of his heart which beat out the minutes of his eternity in here. The fallen god had become like a dormant spirit in the side of a hill.

After an inconceivable amount of time, Xie Lian startled from his long slumber. 

There was a sound that was not his heartbeat.

Hua Cheng was full of regret.

He'd had regrets throughout his life, but none so pointed as this. An important lead ignored, a clue from decades ago, abandoned for a more promising rumor.

Back then, the lead wasn't even about His Highness. He actually didn’t know it was a lead at all. It was information about Qi Rong’s meddling in the political affairs of Yong'an. Hua Cheng had a long-standing grudge against that wretch, and he took every opportunity he could to punish him whenever he found him. He would hold onto a grudge forever. He never forgot and he never forgave, it was just in his nature.

He'd actually visited Yong'an briefly to look for Qi Rong in the aftermath of the Gilded Banquet. He had been right there. True to form, the coward who orchestrated the whole ordeal had fled the scene, and so Hua Cheng had promptly left as well, not bothering to unearth the full story of what happened. He’d known there were some pieces missing, but he never imagined it had to do with the Crown Prince of Xianle.

A monumental mistake, the greatest of his regrets.

If he’d investigated the situation properly he might have gathered that the State Preceptor Fang Xin, the scapegoat for this massacre, was the God he had been searching for all this time.

The reason Hua Cheng had finally discovered the truth of Fang Xin's identity was through his fellow Calamity, He Xuan. Perhaps it was the measure of his own incredibly good luck, but He Xuan had casually mentioned a particular sword in the possession of the new-ish god General Tai Hua. Hua Cheng was always interested in legendary swords because he was always hoping to expand his vast collection.

When He Xuan described that black jade sword, which had once belonged to the infamous State Preceptor Fang Xin, the world fell out from under Hua Cheng's feet. 

Oh, he knew that sword. 

He hadn’t even responded back. He was paralyzed, like he had been struck by lightning. He was then gripped by horror and a wave of nausea.

What if he’s still nailed in the coffin?

What if these past seven decades of searching…

It was the first time Hua Cheng felt real fear since becoming a Supreme.

If His Highness was still in that coffin, it meant his failure had left him to unimaginable suffering. Surely he’d gotten out at some point, right? Hua Cheng had to know for sure. 

After tearing his library apart with Yin Yu, he found a single clue as to the whereabouts of the grave. Nothing too specific, but somewhere to start: "unmarked, in the wild fields north of Yong'an, a place known only to the Prince and his favorite attendant ".

Hua Cheng cursed as he stormed across those cursed moorlands. It was late afternoon, cold and overcast, threatening to rain.

His mind was running itself in circles. He could have found him back then, he had been so close. If only he’d paid closer attention.

If only, if only.  

It meant nothing now. He had ignored the situation. The nail was already in the coffin, so to speak. He had heard the story repeated numerous times; the villainous State Preceptor, a vengeful Crown Prince, a three-layer coffin, and a peach-wood dowel. It was a famous tale. As much as he wanted to find him at last, the thought of His Highness buried alive all this time was unbearable.

He wouldn't let himself think too deeply on what it would mean, what His Highness would have experienced being trapped like that as an immortal. He hoped to find a long-abandoned coffin, but there was this cold feeling in his heart he could not shake.

His Highness was often called the God of Misfortune. Though Hua Cheng hated that moniker, he could not deny all the anecdotes from lost leads over the years. Many told of the ill luck following the former Crown Prince of Xianle. There was always this worry within him that he had caused it—that by being saved by him as the Star of Solitude, he had cursed his own God somehow.  He thought it could only be terrible luck that had kept them from reuniting for all these years.

This was not the kind of reunion he had been hoping for.

There wasn't a whole lot out here in these vast fields. They weren’t even fit to grow food. He could feel a wave of anxiety whenever he thought of how long it might take to find an unmarked grave. He might have just now walked over him without knowing it. 

He needed to know now, not a week from now. The fear of it was tearing him apart. He might have to trick or torture the location out of General Tai Hua or track down the attendant who helped him, if he was still alive after all these years. If he had some kind of spell to detect the existence of a living soul it would be handy, but something like that would also take time and research.

Then again, he wasn't even sure His Highness was still in the grave. He could easily be panicking over nothing.

But if he was? Seventy years of darkness, and hunger and isolation. Would he even be sane at this point? How could Hua Cheng ever make it up to him? There would be no fixing something like this. No atoning. Not ever. That shame would be a wound he’d have to live with until the end of his ashes.

Please be empty.

In the distance, something caught his eye. There was an unassuming little peach tree on the side of a hill. He could feel something about it was unusual, a slight glow to it against the gloomy sky. As he drew closer he realized the tree was growing out of the massive hollow stump of an old dead one. Though it appeared ordinary, there was an energy to it—a very faint spark of the divine that drew Hua Cheng like a moth to a flame.

He knew, whether intentional or not, this was a grave marker.

He crossed around to the back and saw a low entrance to an earthen cave, its walls half-made of the dead tree’s roots. He stepped inside and threw a few wraith butterflies out from his vambraces to light the way. Only a few steps inside, he was hit with a smell.

Blood, and lots of it.

His dead heart raced in his chest and he let out a few more butterflies, guiding them up higher and further in. They revealed a solid, unadorned, stone-hewn casket at the back of the cave. As he grew near, it became apparent that the squelch of his feet in the mud over here was not simply from rain. The ground around the casket was saturated with blood—probably blood that had fed the new peach tree. Its roots were climbing down the backside of this cave, reaching for more blood.

The outer coffin was warded by faded talismans that were no longer functioning. Its lid had not, however, been moved or disturbed. His Highness did not escape on his own.

Maybe there’s still a chance Fang Xin was someone else, he thought desperately.

Maybe this infamous State Preceptor stole the sword from His Highness?

Except a normal mortal corpse would not still be bleeding.

Before he had time to think about what he was going to find inside, he'd shoved the heavy stone lid off, revealing a more delicate marble casket within. The stench of blood became stronger, now mixed with something like decay.

The ghost king's hands actually shook now. He could see His Highness's blood pooling between the two caskets, seeping through decorative perforations in the marble and past the rough stone seams. All this had come from his God. He saw a brief flash of that blood-stained altar.

He threw the second lid off.

It did not reveal the third and final coffin as he expected. The last one was wooden, and fairly pulverized, likely by his God's failed attempts to escape.

The smell was indescribable.

Hua Cheng couldn't help but cry out in despair and he gripped the side of the stone coffer so his legs wouldn’t give out. Even behind the silver mask, he could recognize that visage.

How many times had he carved those lips, that chin? Even in this withered state, he knew his God anywhere. He hadn't let himself picture it for a reason, but maybe he should have. He should have steeled himself for this.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, I’m so, so, sorry!” he rasped out. He doubted his God could hear him now.

As his eye roved over the stark skull of a face that belonged to his long lost Beloved, to his surprise, he saw the eyes behind the mask slowly open, blinking into the light of his butterflies.

A grinding sound of stone on stone, the world around him seemed to be vibrating. Xie Lian could feel the soft fall of dirt or dust settling upon him. New things were happening. There were new sensations.

The god’s mind crawled out of hibernation.

His thoughts were sluggish and only partially formed. He could register that the monotonous sameness of his existence had been disrupted. Cool, fresh air suddenly wafted over him, raising goosebumps on his skin and sending a shiver down his spine. Then, a brightness behind his eyelids.

It took Xie Lian a long moment to respond to it, like all his senses were on a delay. With effort, he managed to open his crusted eyes and blink rapidly into the light. It was horribly uncomfortable so he closed them again, flinching back. He hadn't had a reason to open his eyes in a very long time. The darkness of this coffin had been so complete. Even with his eyes shut tight, the light still hurt.

He heard sounds above him. They were pleasant to his ears, and after concentrating for a bit it dawned on him that this was the voice of another person. Though on some level he could recognize distress in it, it was still a lovely sound. It was also alarmingly loud to him after so much silence.

A person was talking to him. He remembered he was a person, and not just a painful heartbeat in the dark.

This felt familiar.

This had happened before—many times in fact. The coffin opens, voices and light, freedom. But it was never real. He always woke up back in the coffin.

It had been a long time since he last had a dream like this. This one was different from the ones he was used to, however. He could usually understand his rescuer right away. He could open his eyes and see who it was, at least. Usually he had the strength to push himself up and take the hand of the person who was helping him. He could walk away from the grave on his own two feet.

Following the usual prompt of those old dreams, Xie Lian made a small, sad attempt to sit up.

That wasn't happening. His muscles had reached the point of utter uselessness. He was not miraculously recovered for some reason, so all he really did was flex his core slightly. The effort made his feeble heart race. That thump thump thump brought the pain of the wooden stake in his heart back to the forefront for the first time in ages. Still dull, but there again nevertheless. A groan escaped his throat in response.

Was there usually real pain in these dreams? This was all wrong.

The voice above him had not ceased in its onslaught against his ears. He wanted to respond somehow, but the light and sounds were overwhelming him. Xie Lian couldn't understand why he couldn't move, couldn't greet this person. What if they just left him here?

He felt a light pressure on his chest—a hand, he thought. The sensation of being touched set his nervous system on fire and he jolted. Ruoye unraveled from him defensively, but he did not feel it strike. There was a momentary pause, then that hand pressed down firmly against his sternum, as if to hold him down.

In a flash, that old wooden stake was yanked out.

White, hot, intense pain—nothing like that dull ache that had become as normal a feeling as breathing. He heard a small scream ripped from his already desiccated throat. Warm blood poured in earnest from both exit wounds, joining the stew of thick blood he was already laying in. He was sure his throat was now bleeding too, and his lungs burned from the exertion of his sudden deep gasps.

That white hot pain turned cold, and he could hardly bear the feeling of the air that was directly assaulting his now exposed heart. It was incredibly unpleasant. He expected to black out in seconds—but then there was something that was not pain. A flow of energy from the hand was seeping into him. He was shivering violently from the shock of it all, but as he recognized this energy, he started to relax.

The hand itself was cool, but the energy was very warm, probably the warmest thing he could remember feeling. Between this oddly familiar sensation, and the blood now pumping to his brain, his awareness sharpened a little bit. He registered that it was spiritual energy—something he had not felt since his time as a god.

He remembered he had been a god.

The figure above him was talking now in a quieter, reassuring voice. His rusty mind made a connection. A heavenly official? It made sense. In his dreams it was usually one of them who saved him. He wondered who it was this time.

Xie Lian forced himself to open his eyes and look upon his savior in this nightmare version of a rescue dream. It hurt, but he made himself keep them open until he registered who was there. The light source was unusual, it came from several floating white... somethings. The figure took shape above him, but it was too blurry to see properly. It had been too long since he used his eyes and he couldn't get them to focus.

He could make out the fuzzy outline of a person dressed in crimson red. Their skin tone was like porcelain, and he could just make out their long dark hair against the darker background of this tomb. He didn't think he knew them—he certainly didn't recognize the voice, which grew more alarmed when he tried to look at them.

Xie Lian closed his eyes again. The light was too much and his eyes watered a great deal, even now after they had shut. He had no idea that he could even still make tears, but he could feel them sliding down his temples.

That heavy silver mask was lifted from his face. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought this person might have wiped one of those tears away.

The man in red was still speaking to him, but his mind had been dormant for too long to process the words. The pain in his chest was beginning to fade and for the first time in ages he felt warm all over. The relief was immeasurable and he sighed. Though he truly hated waking from these dreams, this was kind of nice in a way.

At least he was lucid this time, so waking up wouldn't be quite so offensive. He could feel the dream around him fading. It was like he was slipping into a sleep that would bring him back to his reality. He hoped he could sink back into the dormant state he had been in only moments before.

Thinking was too much. Feeling was too much. Dreaming was also, honestly, too much. He didn’t want to be bothered anymore.

The last thing he felt were hands very gently sliding behind his upper back and under his knees. He was liberated from the pool of muck he had once dreamed of drowning in. This person's arms were lithe but strong, and they lifted him as though he weighed nothing.

He was safe, like a boy cradled in the reassuring arms of a parent.

Maybe this person was Death. Maybe he was finally being allowed to die.

Xie Lian gave into it easily and sunk back into the lonely dark he had briefly risen from.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng threw his dice and carried his God into Paradise Manor. 

His mind was still reeling. He just couldn’t understand why. Why did horrific things like this happen to the one person in the Three Realms who least deserved it? Why couldn't he keep it from happening? He had finally grasped all the strength in the world and yet nothing had really changed. There was a persistent lump in his throat, but he pushed it down bitterly. 

You don’t get to do that, you worthless trash. You could have prevented this.

Hua Cheng felt like he had strayed into a nightmare. The Crown Prince was so light in his arms, so terribly fragile. His God, who once had the strength to break mountains, had been reduced to a state as weak as a newborn. Every moment of his existence took effort, especially with his heart still mending.

 He could still hear that heartbreaking scream reverberating in his ears, the scream he caused by pulling out the stake. 

The same scream that had haunted him after The Temple.

My God will never know pain like that again. 

Now that Hua Cheng had finally found him, His Highness would be protected. 

Hua Cheng ever so gently laid the Crown Prince down upon a soft divan and knelt down next to him. He was afraid of hurting him again, of causing him any more discomfort than he’d already had to endure. 

The silk ribbon, the same one that had appeared alongside His Highness last time they had been together, was still here with him. It had nearly lashed out at him the first time he tried to touch its master, but it now understood he meant no harm. It was now wrapped snugly around his chest. His Highness's breathing was shallow but leveled. His expression was neutral, peaceful even. His blood was seeping into the divan.

Hua Cheng rubbed at his face, thinking of the immense and terrible job before him. His hands were shaking again. Had his hands ever shaken since becoming a ghost? He needed to pull himself together. He will be okay. This man was the strongest person he had ever known. He had already mentally and physically survived things that would break anyone. He would get through this too.

The worst of the wound in His Highness's chest had been patched up, but he was still in a hellish state. Hua Cheng mentally contacted Yin Yu and told him to have a large bath prepared, with lots of extra water on standby. He still needed to free him from the blood-caked cocoon of his State Preceptor robes. 

Though he knew there was no one else in the world that would be more respectful about it, there was a small, childish part of him that was ashamed at the prospect of seeing his God in, well, all his glory. Especially considering that his love for his God was rather unconventional. This was hardly the time to be distracted by such shallow worries—a body was a body. His Highness needed him right now. His own trivial feelings meant less than nothing. 

Hua Cheng pulled a small sharp blade from a hidden sheathe in his boot, and began slowly and carefully cutting the soiled robes free from his body. He would probably need to wipe His Highness down before the bath. That way, the water wouldn’t be too immediately fouled. Hua Cheng took a deep, unnecessary breath to steady himself, and then he got to work. 

It would take several hours and three different bath-fulls of water before His Highness was finally clean. Nothing Hua Cheng did stirred him from his rest. He thought the bath would definitely wake him, but all that happened was a slight softening of his expression, like he was more comfortable in the warm water. Judging by the movement behind his eyelids, His Highness was dreaming through most of it. Maybe he was dreaming of someplace warm.

Hua Cheng was meticulous and reverent in all steps of this undertaking, only touching him when absolutely necessary. His Highness's skin was dry and delicate, so even if it took twice as long to free it from blood and grime, Hua Cheng remained feather-light as he washed him. No part of him was left unchecked, from the heels of his feet to the dirt under his fingernails.

He put his wraith butterflies to use during the whole process, healing all the little sores and cuts from 70 years laying on half-rotted wood from the broken coffin lid. He hated thinking about his God thrashing about, but he couldn’t resist the torment of putting himself in his God’s shoes. 

Stay focused. Punish yourself later. He had to keep reminding himself.

His Highness's long hair was the biggest job of all. Hua Cheng was still slowly and arduously detangling the large mats, but at the very least the mats of hair were clean. He refused to cut it. If he had to go strand by strand, he would save it.

The silk ribbon was always wrapped around some part of His Highness’s body, some spot Hua Cheng wasn't working on, and he could tell it was watching his every move. It was very dedicated to its master’s protection. Hua Cheng could relate. It seemed to understand and approve of him. Now it was settled diagonally across his torso, as if to protect the half-healed wound there. Thankfully the ribbon had become clean in the bath. 

He dressed His Highness in the finest, softest robes merits could buy, and placed him on his bed where he could continue working on his hair for as many more hours as it took. He sat in his chair as he did, fighting the urge to instead sit on the bed and rest His Highness’s head in his lap. He still couldn’t help occasionally pressing a soft kiss against the hair in his hand. Each and every one was a small apology.

Hua Cheng was now acutely aware of the state of His Highness's body—he'd had to scrub every inch of it after all. He really was skin and bones. So much so that a normal person in such a state would already be dead. Whenever he thought of this he would have to take a pause, and get a grip on his grief and fury and anxiety, or else it might consume him whole. Seventy years like this. Without his divinity, recovering would take some time, several months at minimum but probably at least a year. 

As he combed His Highness’s hair, Hua Cheng's eyes lingered on the cursed collar around his neck. He wondered, if he broke his shackles now, would he recover faster with access to his spiritual energy, or would losing his immortality kill him at this stage? He wasn’t sure if he had amassed enough power to even do that just yet–  it would likely disperse him as he was now– but damn, it was tempting. Anything to get him better as fast as possible.

He had to remind himself that His Highness was exceptional even before his ascension. His muscles would remember. Patience.

Hua Cheng was actually more worried about his state of his mind. 

What would he be like when he finally woke up? When he looked up at him from the coffin, did he even understand what was happening? Were those tears of joy? Pain? Relief? 

While His Highness had been a mess last time he met him, it was to be expected based on his experience in The Temple. This was different. It wouldn’t be just a case of grief or anger. What if he was delusional? What if he didn't even know who he was? What if he was… just catatonic? There was a reason that isolation was the worst form of punishment in a prison. The human mind couldn’t handle it well at all.

Xie Lian stirred slightly in his sleep, his brows furrowed and his expression grim, like he was perhaps experiencing a nightmare. Hua Cheng ran his fingers gently through his hair, as if that might soothe him somehow. He did it more to soothe himself.  

Finding the fallen Crown Prince of Xianle had been his goal since the moment he became a Supreme, and he had been dreaming and hoping for this for so very long. He had made so many different plans– so many iterations of first meetings. How he would present himself. What all he would reveal. He actually had made a lot of plans just to watch over him from the shadows, to only appear if he needed him and always in a different disguise. His Beloved would never know he was sticking around to protect him. 

This changed everything. Now he was floundering. 

Plans A, B, and C were all out the door, and he couldn't even come up with Plan D until he knew how His Highness would be upon waking. Despite his fears, his apprehension at what might come next, a part of Hua Cheng was still able to be excited. Even if things were difficult for a while, even if His Highness had a lot of healing to do, the fact of the matter was that he had found him . 

It had taken nearly 600 years but they were here together, in the same room. 

That was exhilarating. 

Hua Cheng finished combing the last of the mats out of His Highness's long locks and loosely braided it to the side. He then lifted him and placed him further in, nestled in a cradle of soft pillows, careful to support the tender pressure points that had surely caused him discomfort over the decades. He was shivering occasionally, so Hua Cheng pulled the outer covers up and tucked him in. He made sure his butterflies were hovering above, so that he would not wake in a darkness he could mistake for the coffin. 

There was a slight stubborn redness around His Highness’s eyes and the bridge of his nose where that mask had rested for the past 70 years.

He glanced over at it, propped up on the side table, kind of alarmed that, of all things, his God wore a mask shaped like a silver butterfly. He recoiled at the embarrassing first thought that had sprang to mind, that they were connected or fated or some other such nonsense. He was glad his thoughts were his own. He was a firm believer that a person makes their own fate—otherwise his luck would still be as terrible as His Highness's. 

The Ghost King leaned over and took in the face of his God, here in front of him at last, but in the worst shape possible. What other strokes of bad luck had he suffered since they parted? What else had he had to face all on his own? His body would never reveal his scars. Hua Cheng couldn’t resist softly cupping his cheek. He really was shameless.

He made a silent vow to his Beloved. 

You’ll never face anything alone again. I will be there.

He cautiously stroked the soft hair at his temple with his thumb, reveling in the damaged beauty he was finally privileged to behold again. 

An image flashed into his mind, his God swimming in the filth of the coffin again. Those tears, carving a line through the dirt on his face. It was an image burned into him now, permanently. Oh, this excellent memory of his could be a burden. He felt that lump in his throat from earlier, and again, he pushed it down. 

No better than E-ming. Absolutely worthless.

He pulled his hand away, ashamed, his fingers curled into a fist. 

Xie Lian was drifting from one dream to the next. It was like someone had turned his mind back on, and it was now making up for lost time. 

He didn't know which were memories, and what was random nonsense his mind threw together. Some scenes were domestic and meant nothing, others were horrors beyond comprehension. His dreams had always been memory-based like this, ever since he was put in the coffin, but now it’s like they were scrambled and distorted. The memory-dreams played out in a chaotic order, often swapping out people from the past and future. Sometimes he knew they were incorrect, but not always. 

Once it was Feng Xin who was nailing him into the coffin, eyes steely, mouth pulled into a grim, resigned frown.

Once it was his own father that he stabbed at the Gilded Banquet. A different, younger Him caught him doing it.

Once it was a young Mu Qing that he saved from the kidnappers in Yong'an. 

He even had another rescue dream where he was saved from the coffin by Bai Wuxiang, for some reason. 

Of course there were also times he was back in the coffin, screaming his lungs out, and punching at the marble lid while Ruoye tried to bind his hands and cushion the blows. 

In one disturbing dream, Wu Ming was crammed in there with him, dead and still, and Xie Lian could hardly breathe under the weight of him.

Finally he came to one last dream, and this was the longest and most peculiar out of all of them.

There was nothing recognizable about it—it wasn't a twisted version of a memory nor a rescue dream. It began with himself laying in a soft silky bed, warm and comfortable. He opened his eyes. It was very blurry at first, but after a long moment, his vision finally cleared and he found he could focus again. 

At first, he was sure he must be dreaming of his childhood. This bed was certainly fit for royalty, but this was nothing like his bed in Xianle, nor was it like the one back in Yong'an. There were beautiful, glowing silvery butterflies flitting above, and he found himself entranced and delighted. They were familiar, somehow. These red bed curtains were too, just not from a bedroom he knew.

It was difficult to concentrate on too much at once, like being drunk. He was extremely tired. It was like he was being pushed down into the bed by the thick blankets draped over him. It reminded him of his dream with Wu Ming. He couldn't move, but he could breathe just fine, thankfully. It was unsettling to feel trapped, even in such lovely silky trappings. 

He tried to peer past the sheer red curtains into the darker bedroom beyond, and though he noted the bedroom was large and luxuriously appointed, it was also suddenly apparent he was not alone. 

This dream had a brand new character he didn’t actually recognize. The person was sitting on a chair next to the bed with a book in hand. He had to stare at their face for a while before it sharpened into focus. Even viewing him through the gauzy red of the curtain, he knew it was not a face he could possibly have forgotten; it was far too striking. 

He tried to say something, but he couldn't think of any words. The thoughts in his head were formless things, like pure meaning and feeling without the language. He blinked. Just as he realized he couldn’t remember how to speak, the person glanced up and caught his eye. 

The man drew the curtain aside at once, and tossed a book he had been reading somewhere over his shoulder. Xie Lian was dumbstruck by him, now that he could see him properly. The man's only dark eye glittered with some unknown but earnest emotion. His eyepatch and his untamed black hair clashed perfectly with the stylish, regal elegance of his attire—crimson red robes and exotic silver finery. He was objectively beautiful, but he also looked formidable and deadly. Again, that red sparked a distant memory, but he still could not put his finger on it yet. 

Xie Lian was completely disarmed by him, especially the unexpected tenderness of his expression. Very few people in his life had regarded him with such worry. He did not know this man, but this man most certainly knew him.

"Your Highness? " He asked, somewhat hesitant.

His voice was deep, pleasant, and the words sounded very recognizable. 

Xie Lian's brow furrowed as he tried to connect the sound with a meaning. That was his name, wasn't it? No, not quite. But it was a correct thing to call him— only it also wasn't for some reason.

The man in red stood to sit on the bed’s edge, and leaned a little further into Xie Lian's view. Xie Lian felt anxious at the sudden closeness, and wanted to lean away, but his body was still unable to move under these blankets. It was like he had been petrified by a spell.

"Your Highness, woh od ouy efel ? " He asked.

The words were more nonsense, and yet he also knew he knew them. 

Xie Lian just stared. He wanted to respond with... something. It seemed all he could do was look around. He could move his head just a little bit. His eyes drank in the view of this stranger, like it was the first time seeing something new in a century. He opened his mouth to make some kind of noise, but whatever gibberish was about to leave it was caught in his throat, and he coughed instead. It hurt. It was as if his throat was glued shut with something. He could vaguely taste blood.

“Od ouy ened tarew? ”

More unintelligible words from the man in a questioning tone. He saw the man swiftly lift a cup off the side table, and make eye contact, his question's meaning suddenly clear. 

Xie Lian found that he was, in fact, incredibly thirsty. He managed a jerking nod of his head and tried to lift himself up. He just couldn't do it. His heart beat hard, and there was a sharp pang in his chest with each thump. That old, familiar pang. It was like he was back in the—  he glanced down at his body. His heart plummeted. It was the starved body he had in the coffin. It had somehow followed him into this lovely, if bizarre, dream. 

His appalling stick-thin frame was dressed in sumptuous inner robes, but he could still see his pale skin stretched tightly over his ribs within the V of his lapels. Ruoye was wrapped there too, obscuring the ribs over his heart. The silk ribbon tightened, acknowledging him. Though his heart hurt with every beat, it was a much duller hurt than he remembered. The stake was not visible.

He was suddenly mortified, being in the presence of such a captivating person while in such a hideous state himself. He looked like a corpse.

It had been a long, long time since Xie Lian experienced anything even close to self-consciousness—not after the many embarrassments that came with having all your luck siphoned away by a cursed shackle. He had never really considered himself vain, but maybe all this time he had been taking his own natural beauty for granted.

At the very least, his body was clean and free of blood and filth. He smelled faintly like jasmine, even. He deduced that this was actually a rather strange nightmare he was having. At least he wasn’t naked. 

The man wasn’t rightfully disgusted by his corpse-like appearance at all.

He reached over and gently lifted Xie Lian’s torso, placing a pillow behind him so that he was sitting up at an angle. One hand just barely cradled the back of his head, as he brought the cup to his lips.

It was absurdly intimate, but right now Xie Lian was too thirsty to care. Besides, this was just a dream. What did any of it matter anyhow?

The first contact of the cool water in his throat made him choke and cough, but then the thirst really hit him, and he drained the whole cup in one go. Swallowing hurt, but he didn't care. It was a kind of relief that could not be described. He wanted more but didn't know how to ask. 

He could tell by the careful way the man handled him, that he was a caring soul. This fine residence must belong to him, and Xie Lian was his decrepit guest, for some reason. He noticed the man had a bit of red string tied on one finger, like an affinity knot, and wondered what that was for. What was that supposed to symbolize?

He wanted to reach over and take his hand in gratitude for the water, but these arms just wouldn't obey him. They sort of flinched and that was all. He found himself staring down at his bony hands, now unable to meet the eye of the man who had just so graciously helped him drink. He tried to wiggle his fingers, but only half succeeded. They jerked unpredictably. He couldn't speak and he couldn't use any body language.

He felt a bit demoralized.

Xie Lian tried to maneuver his tongue, working it around in his mouth, trying to remember how to use his voice. Trying to recall words, and how to form them. In most dreams, he just knew how to talk. People talked to him and he understood them. So why was this dream so frustrating? Why was he so pathetic? 

“Si ehtre moseginth I nac teg ouy? Rae ouy nughry? ” The man spoke up.

Though he could not understand him, just hearing that sonorous voice was extremely pleasing. He could have just listened to him speak gibberish for hours, but Xie Lian wanted to be able to respond in kind. He wanted to ask questions. After a long moment of struggling, he finally gave up.

He closed his eyes in defeat. An image sprang to mind then—one of his many, many rescue dreams. The hazy outline of a man in red. The rest flashed by—trying to sit up in the coffin and failing, unable to talk, the same cool hand which had just briefly leaned him forward, but resting flat against his chest, pushing him down. Was this dream referencing another dream? He hadn't understood speech in that one either. He even thought it was the same voice. 

He could hear the same care in it that this man seemed to exude. It perplexed Xie Lian greatly. 

Just who was this person?

He opened his eyes again, and managed to turn his head enough to see the man in red. He had put the cup back and was looking at Xie Lian with deep concern, brows knitted together. Xie Lian didn't like that at all. Xie Lian wanted to ease his worry. No one needed to worry over him of all people, not ever. It’s not like he could die, and everything else that happened was temporary. He felt terrible that he could not understand the man. 

Xie Lian managed to make a noise. He didn’t understand it until after it left his mouth—like an instinctual response.

"Sorry. " He croaked out. 

He winced at the weak, rough, unbecoming sound of it. The man was stunned at first. Then there was a flash of a smile, quickly replaced by a more stern demeanor as he leaned in. 

“Your Highness, ouy vener ened polegaizo rof yanginth!” He spoke urgently, bordering on upset, but that eye was still bright, and hopeful. Xie Lian was gratified.

The man said something else, something lengthy. Clearly, he thought Xie Lian could understand him. Xie Lian stared at him hard, analyzing the shapes his lips were making, trying to will his brain to make sense of it. A number of words jumped out at him as ones he definitely knew, if only he could just think for a bit. Before he had a chance, ten new words had taken their place, and he had forgotten them. 

He was growing tired and overwhelmed with the effort to absorb everything. His head was beginning to pound. He stopped watching those lips, and turned dejectedly away as the man’s words hesitated, and then came to a slow stop. 

He was being rude, but he didn’t know how else to get the man to understand that he couldn’t understand. Xie Lian didn't want to see his body either, so he focused on the butterflies instead. 

Why was he so lucid? What time period was he in? Was this some kind of future dream—a scenario of waking up after escaping the coffin? Had he really dreamed up this beautiful, mysterious rescuer? If so, it was eye-opening.

Was this really a fantasy of his? 

One explanation bubbled to the surface of his mind, but he couldn't bear to consider that one.

He wasn't ready to think, even for a moment, that this might not be a dream. That a rescue actually happened. He couldn’t let himself believe he was out of The Dark for good. He had been caught by that trap so many times before and he had finally learned his lesson now. 

He was too afraid of having his hope crushed.

He wanted this to be real, shriveled body and all, but it couldn’t be more impossible. 

If this was that same man from the previous dream, then this man had shared spiritual energy with him. He was probably supposed to be from Heaven. His home was, from the bit Xie Lian could see, magnificent, which also probably meant he was an important god with a golden palace. Of all the gods in heaven, why would it be someone he'd never met (and definitely not one he actually prayed to) who took pity upon him? 

What could he want from him, and what self-respecting god would tend to the Laughing Stock of the Three Realms personally?

All this ruminating was wearing him out. He could feel himself slipping away, similarly to how he had in the last lucid dream. He wanted some kind of concrete answer though, before it was too late. A word sprang suddenly to mind. A useful one. He gazed back at the man whose face was going fuzzy now.

"God?" he managed to say, nudging his face towards him, and hoping he understood his query. The man frowned deeply at that and shook his head.

"I ma ont a god." he stated. 

Xie Lian detected some disgust in the way he said it. A knot of unease writhed in his stomach. Well, that made no sense at all. Then again, dreams don't have to make sense. The red room and the silver butterflies swirled around him as his vision lost any remaining focus. The man in red was speaking, but that sound soon faded. 

At least he would be back to reality, grim as it might be. This false hope was too much to stomach, even if he recognized it for what it was. 

It was too lovely here. Too warm. Too soft. Too kind.

At least when he had gone mentally dormant he had finally known peace.

Right now, he felt only the heartache of what would never be.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng was pacing the bedroom. 

His God lay still once more, drifted off to sleep again all too quickly. He looked pale and spent. Hua Cheng had been waiting for him to wake up for the better part of two days. He spent most of it pacing restlessly, and reeling from bouts of fury and helplessness. All he dared to do for His Highness during that time was give him tiny dribbles of water by squeezing a wet cloth into his mouth. 

He couldn’t believe he’d been so engrossed in that tome that he didn’t notice His Highness wake up. He wondered how long he had stared at him before he’d caught his gaze, what he had been thinking.

Of all the times to get distracted. 

Then again, perhaps it was a good thing he had been distracted. Waking up to someone you don't know watching you sleep might be disturbing. 

It was not the grand, nor even romantic first meeting he might have once hoped for, but Hua Cheng was still relieved. His God had seemed pretty confused by things, but he also seemed sane from what he could tell. He even managed to speak a couple of words. His Highness had apologized, which was the very last thing in the world he wanted to hear. That was just in His Highness’s humble nature.

Hua Cheng paced back towards the bed, taking a glimpse through the curtain like he did every time he made his circuit around the room. As if the man was going to wake right back up any moment. He exhaled, slightly disappointed. 

Patience. You should be good at that by now.

He was glad that his God had managed to drink some water, but he would have liked for him to eat something. If he didn’t eat, he wouldn't be able to stay conscious for long. His body would try to conserve all its energy. He didn’t think His Highness could understand anything he had tried to offer him. He had just given him this blank and bewildered stare in response, like he didn’t speak the same language. Clearly he did, if he could thank him. 

He’d gawked, rather confused, at his own body— like he hadn’t expected this as well. Like he didn’t recognize himself at all. Did he not remember being in the coffin somehow? His only guess was that this was just his first time seeing his current state properly in the light. He was clearly disgusted. No matter how much humility the man had in him, he had still once been a Prince and a God. 

Hua Cheng knew, deep down, there had to still be some level of pride that couldn’t be smothered by anything.

Hua Cheng picked up the book he had tossed earlier, and smoothed the pages. It was a medical tome about caring for the severely malnourished. At least he knew what to feed him now—first just broth, later plain congee. Anything more would be too rich and devastate his system. 

Don’t worry, Your Highness. You will be back to normal soon. 

It was probably going to be a difficult first few weeks. He imagined his God would feel like a burden if he had to help him with every little thing, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. Hua Cheng hoped when the time came he could find the right words to comfort him. He needed to understand there was nothing he wanted more than to help him. 

Even if he was disgusted by his own body, Hua Cheng could only find him radiant and perfect.  All that mattered was that he was still Him. This man was Hua Cheng’s reason for existing. He was his hope in the world. Seeing him still able to speak and deduce after literal decades of isolation made Hua Cheng’s spirit soar. He'd been able to tell that Hua Cheng wasn’t human right off the bat. His Highness probably realized he'd been healed by spiritual energy and jumped to conclusions.

It was almost funny that his God’s first guess was that he was a god. Hua Cheng let out a dry chuckle. 

It sounded loud in the otherwise silent room. 

He returned to his chair, where most of his vigil had taken place, and sat down heavily. Heaven wouldn’t have come to his rescue. Actually helping people was against the rules, wasn’t it? Hua Cheng bristled at the mere thought of those imposters, his fingers digging into the arms of the chair. His Highness had no idea that the one who buried him alive, Lang Qianqiu, counted as a member of that trash heap now. 

That last word His Highness spoke was still in his mind. That voice again, after so long. “God? ”. He hadn’t immediately asked where he was, or how long it had been— not even Hua Cheng’s name. His first question was what Hua Cheng was. He’d have to explain himself sooner rather than later. 

How he found him. How he healed him. 

He wondered now if he should have used a different skin. Perhaps something more mundane and approachable. He had meant to remain cool and aloof, like a benevolent stranger, but his worry had caused him to ruin that illusion right away. 

His devotion was a hard thing to hide, considering how long he had waited to express it.  Perhaps he should do something wild, like be honest from the start. Well, maybe partially. Half-truths always worked well for him.

He was still on the fence about giving his name—either as Hua Cheng or Wu Ming. 

Hua Cheng pulled the bed curtain aside and leaned over, resting his crossed forearms on the bed as he observed his God. His breathing had picked up a little bit. He was dreaming again. He seemed to dream quite a lot, and Hua Cheng wondered what they were all about. 

Did he ever dream of that short time they had spent together? What did he think of him, in retrospect, after everything that happened back then?

He didn’t want to have to pull the Wu Ming card to gain his trust. He would rather have a fresh start without all the baggage, and potentially even guilt. Wu Ming had made the decision to sacrifice himself all on his own, but he knew his God almost certainly felt responsible in the aftermath. His Highness loved to take everything upon himself, and spare others any pain that he could. In time, Hua Cheng would have to tell him Wu Ming did not die for good. But not now. 

He rested his chin on his arms and sighed. He was dying to have a proper conversation.

I wonder if His Highness has heard my name before. 

If so, it might put him in an immediate position of distrust. Hua Cheng was, after all, a notorious god-killer. For now, he should probably use an alias. San Lang was one he liked. Third Son. His Third Life, so to speak.

It would be awhile before Xie Lian woke again. In the meantime, Hua Cheng would watch over him and plot. Getting His Highness back on his feet was not all that was on Hua Cheng’s mind. He couldn’t get that image out of his head. 

His Highness in the coffin. The blood. Decades and decades of blood.

Every time that scene bounced back into view, a bright and righteous anger filled him. Several times, he’d actually had to step out on the balcony to cool off, before he broke something. Maybe he had fucked up all those years ago by not investigating things—  maybe he did fail to prevent it from happening—but someone else had fucked up worse.

A person had done this to his Beloved. 

There was someone to directly blame, and he was still alive, ripe for punishment.

Hua Cheng was a ghost partly born from the rage he felt at those who had harmed his God. He had burned those people in The Temple. He had ruined the heavenly officials who humiliated his God on Mount Taicang. Bai Wuxiang, if he ever showed himself again, would receive his due punishment as well. 

Lang Qianqiu, or General Tai Hua, as he was now called, had escaped him for seventy years. 

His time is up. 

Hua Cheng leaped up, pacing the room once more. He put a finger to his temple:

“Yin Yu.” He spoke into a private communication array.

“Sir?”

“I need you to go to the library. Pull all the books and scrolls you can find on divine shackles—specifically the kind that suppresses spiritual energy.” There was a long pause, like he hadn’t heard.

“Yin Yu?”

“… Yes, sir. I’m on it.” 

Perhaps it was Hua Cheng's luck that Lang Qianqiu had ascended; now he couldn’t escape his wrath by dying of old age. Just the thought of him dying peacefully, and leaving Hua Cheng to suffer his guilt alone, was unbearable. Lang Qianqiu had caused his God Seventy Years of pain and loneliness. 

He didn't care if the foolish boy didn't know Fang Xin was immortal when he nailed him in. 

Seventy. Years.

He didn't care if His Highness had agreed to be punished for the crime, and let it happen. 

All that mattered, was that his God had suffered a lifetime of agony over something he didn’t even do. Lang Qianqiu had nailed him into that coffin, three layers deep, warded against being found or saved. While he knew his God would preach forgiveness, Hua Cheng was incapable. His Highness’s heart was pure enough that he was likely still fond of his pupil on some level; he might even feel proud to find out he had ascended. 

Hua Cheng didn't plan on telling him. 

He also didn’t intend to tell him his plans. Hua Cheng was not much like his beloved God. He was hideous, inside and out, and he demanded retribution. While he was a follower of some of His Highness’s principles, he still had to stay true to his own creed as well—even if it didn't always align with His ideals.

First, his God's health and safety was paramount to all else. Second, if you harm his God, Hua Cheng will harm you back.

I’m going to nail Lang Qianqiu into a coffin. 

Hua Cheng stewed in his anger, as the pieces of his plan began falling into place. 

He’d put the coffin somewhere so remote, no one in heaven would even begin to know where to search. Perhaps in a mountain. He'd find a way to cut off his spiritual powers too, even if he had to make his own version of a divine shackle. There would be no calling for help. He’d leave him to starve and rot, same as he did to His Highness. 

After seventy years, or maybe a full century, Hua Cheng would check in on him and see if he'd suffered enough yet. 

He would play it by ear. 

He would open the coffin up, and see if Lang Qianqiu had forgotten how to talk yet. 

Xie Lian opened his eyes to find himself back in that red canopy bed. 

A repeat dream? No, it was slightly different. 

The same silver butterflies flitted above. Again, his skeletal coffin-body had come with him, and he could hardly move. He felt lucid. His gaze moved to the chair where the man had been last time, but it was empty. 

He looked down to see that Ruoye had vacated his chest and slithered down around one of his arms. The spot over his heart was angry and pink, but it didn’t hurt. Ruoye tightened a bit, and he wanted to reach over to pat it, but his arm wouldn’t budge.

His eyes then moved to the bedside table. The same cup he had drank from before, as well as a pitcher. He also noticed his silver butterfly mask propped there. 

What did this all mean? His eyes flitted back to the butterflies above. It's like the answer was in front of him, but his mind was too slow to connect the dots. 

Why was he back here? What was his subconscious trying to get him to understand?

He remembered drinking last time he was here, and his mouth watered. It hadn’t been enough then, and right now he wanted more so bad he thought he might lose his mind. Something bubbled up in him that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. 

Frustration. 

He wanted another drink of water. He also wanted answers. Why was he alone? 

Nothing was happening. It was making for a rather boring dream. Xie Lian didn’t feel like he could judge the passage of time anymore. Had it been only a few seconds or a full incense time, he didn’t know. These fresh, sharp emotions in him grew stronger, building slow and steady, all thoughts of his cultivation rules forgotten.

Even if the man in red was here, it's not like Xie Lian could understand him or even ask him for anything. All he could do was look at things, and jerk his head around. Like an infant.

He was unbelievably irritated. 

He felt like he was dying. 

Like always, no one was there to help him. 

He was so thirsty, and the water was right there . If he could just get his arms to move! He was actually shaking in his desperation. 

He wanted to scream. He wanted to be back in the coffin, where everything made sense again. 

It was awful there, but at least it made sense and did not tempt him with things he couldn’t have. No one could see the horrible state of him, and he didn’t have to be reminded of it. The coffin didn't stir up his heart and let him down—these stupid dreams did! Why was he here?

He closed his eyes tightly and willed himself to wake up. 

He could feel hot tears welling up. One of those tears escaped just as he heard a door pull open somewhere to his right. His eyes shot open. He heard the curious sound of fine chains jingling with each booted footstep, as a person rushed over to the bed.

It was as if the man had somehow known he was awake and in need. He threw the red curtain aside. Upon seeing Xie Lian's obvious distress, a stream of apologetic noises tumbled out of him. He could recognize the word “sorry” repeated numerous times. That’s one word he’d never be able to forget. 

It summed up his entire life.

Xie Lian didn't want apologies, and he didn't want the man to feel sorry for him either. The man said something and waited. He said it again, like this was important. 

“Twah… od… ouy… deen?”

He said it slowly, and Xie Lian's mind finally began to digest some of it. Two words came to life in his mind, "you" and "need". He wanted to know what Xie Lian needed. 

His eyes instantly flicked over to the pitcher of water. The man in red understood at once. 

They immediately repeated the drinking ritual from before. He shivered at the man’s touch this time, as he propped him up. He wasn’t sure if it was because his hands were cool, or if it was just strange to be touched at all. He wished he could hold the cup himself. 

This time, after the cup was drained, he stared back at the pitcher to express he wanted even more. The man mercifully obliged. 

After three full cups of water, finally, finally, his thirst was quenched. He sighed with content, a little of that earlier anger ebbing away now. His mind was backtracking through the man’s words, now that they’d finally lapsed into a moment of silence. 

So many “I’m sorry”s. 

Even now, the man looked grim. It was as if he was internally scolding himself for not already knowing what he needed. Xie Lian didn’t know what to say— literally. He didn’t know the words to make the man understand that he didn't have to be sorry for anything. 

After a long moment, the man spoke up again, low and slow. 

“I mopresi I now’t leeva you aanig. Li’l od better form won no. M’i os sorry.”

Xie Lian thought maybe he said something about doing better, but it was still too many words. He just slightly nodded, for lack of a better response. At least his dream caretaker finally understood he was struggling to understand him. It did feel like he was now speaking to Xie Lian like he was a toddler, but this was better than being completely lost. 

The man asked a new question, and this time he used his hands to mimic eating. Xie Lian recognized the important word afterward— “hungry”.  

In the first year or two, hunger pangs had been one of the hardest parts of being buried alive. Hunger was brutal, far worse than the wooden stake. Those hunger pangs would continue to come and go randomly, even years later. After enough time, his body just gave up on asking.

It sure wasn’t going to start begging now . Thirst had never ended, but hunger did. It was no longer an issue. This was just a dream, so it didn’t matter, and he didn't really want to remember what eating was like anyhow. What he wanted was to know more about this strange situation he was in. 

He just needed to find the words. He could tell they were still in his head somewhere. He could do this. 

He spent a few minutes in thought, and the man seemed to understand he was working up to something. He waited patiently and quietly. Xie Lian couldn’t look at him while he was thinking—that fair face was too distracting and kept bringing his train of thought to a halt—so he focused on the butterflies instead. Finally it came to him, and Xie Lian grew excited. He looked at the man and said, surprisingly clear. 

"Name?"

The man's eyebrows raised, and he smiled. He put his hand to his chest. 

"San Lang."

Xie Lian managed to say it back. His mouth was still remembering how to move, so he could tell the pronunciation was a little bit off-kilter. Regardless, he was glad to have a name for him other than 'the man in red'. He couldn’t recall ever meeting anyone with that name before. 

He thought for another moment, and this time the word he was chasing came to him a bit faster. 

"Where?"

 The man paused and considered Xie Lian, as if contemplating whether he should tell him or lie. Xie Lian felt a bit uneasy, like he might not be able to trust whatever he was about to say. 

"Ghost City." 

Xie Lian could only offer a blank look, until the individual words worked their way through the dusty halls of his memory. He was in a city of ghosts? Was there such a place? 

The man was apologetic again. It didn’t fit his otherwise fearsome appearance—very few of his expressions did, really. Xie Lian frowned, finally making some connections that should have been more obvious. The perpetual coolness of his hand. The man's snow-white complexion. His disgust at being called a god. 

He supposed a strong enough ghost could have some spiritual energy to share. Xie Lian’s eyes roamed over the man, lingering on how perfect and silky and real his hair was. If he was a ghost, to have such a realistic form, he must be very powerful indeed. Of course he could share spiritual energy.

 Xie Lian studied his face, hoping to catch any deception he might see there. He jerked his head towards him.

"Ghost?"

He wanted to confirm his suspicion. 

San Lang actually smirked. It was a crooked and arrogant smirk. Now that expression suited him. The ghost nodded at him cheerfully, and Xie Lian thought he was finally seeing a bit of this person's real personality. It was comforting.

Of all the oddball things to dream about though—saved from the grave by a powerful and handsome ghost? Brought to a recuperate in some kind of palace? In a whole City of Ghosts no less? 

It was like something from a folktale. This was almost too silly to be one of his dreams, which were not usually all that imaginative. 

Of course, it was even more absurd to think this might be real life.

San Lang leaned forward, suddenly serious. 

“Si ti okay whit you tath M’i a ghost?” He asked, nice and slow. Xie Lian still struggled with it for a moment.

It seemed like he was asking Xie Lian if that was okay . He nodded. He saw the man's shoulders drop ever so slightly, and puzzled at it. Did he think he’d be scared of him or judge him just because he was dead? 

Beggars can't exactly be choosers. Why would he care?

It was strange to think a fierce-looking character like this would even care about his opinion, let alone anyone else’s. Then again, this was his dream, wasn’t it? He blessed San Lang with a proper smile. It felt unnatural on his face, strained, even though he meant the warmth behind it. He wondered if it looked as funny as it felt.

San Lang was very pleased. He leaned in a bit, resting his chin on his hand, almost playfully. Xie Lian was lost in the intensity of that brown eye. He was reminded of a fox spirit.

“Rae you urse you raet’n hungry?” He asked as he arched an eyebrow, as if trying to tempt him.

 Xie Lian understood at once this time. He forced a smile and shook his head. He thought for a very long moment, trying to bring forth the right word for what he actually was. It took longer than he expected, like he was starting to regress now.

"Tired." He said softly. 

Truth be told, he had only been awake for a few minutes, but he was not used to thinking this hard. Also, he had drunk a whole lot of water, and now, even just sitting propped up like this felt like a chore. He imagined this ghost bringing chopsticks up to his mouth and cringed. The awkwardness alone would probably knock him out. 

He wasn’t really used to needing help, other than the whole being buried alive thing. He also wasn’t used to getting help. Accepting help. He wanted out of this whole situation.

San Lang’s playful smile faded when he realized Xie Lian didn’t want to eat, and he heaved a worried sigh. He didn’t understand that eating would do nothing for Xie Lian, except remind him of what he was missing out on. 

Xie Lian’s eyes felt terribly droopy now. It was getting hard to hold his head up.

He could feel The Dark, waiting to pull him back into its cold embrace. Maybe he could finally wake up now. Unlike earlier, now he was a little reluctant to go. 

He liked this ghost. He was a pleasure to look at and listen to. This short conversation, as slow and halting as it was, felt like the first real one he had had since he was nailed in. It was like he was here with someone, not just revisiting memories as he did in most dreams. 

His heart ached, much like the last time he had drifted off in this bed. Oh, that must be the wooden stake calling him back.

He hazily acknowledged that San Lang had lowered him back down, pulling that pillow out from under his back so that he could “sleep”. It was like being gently laid back down into the coffin. His eyes fluttered shut. 

He was grateful for this San Lang person, even if it was just for a nice memory. Being treated like this, even by a figment of his own imagination, was lovely for a change. The only other dreams that felt comforting like this had to do with his mother, but she was also painful to remember.

"Thank you." He mumbled.

“Your Highness, paseel not’d thank em.” He heard San Lang whisper. 

Then he remembered.

“Your Highness” wasn’t his name, it was a title he once had, wasn’t it? Centuries ago, and no longer applicable. This person could be someone from far in the past— someone he had forgotten completely somehow.

Xie Lian, despite his initial frustration, hoped he’d dream about this again. 

He wanted to know more about this strangely helpful ghost. He wanted to bask in the kindness of his expression, and his gentle attention. It was a sad, pathetic admission, but it was also the truth. Even if this wasn’t real, he just didn’t want to feel alone anymore. 

He would take whatever his mind would give him.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian was dreaming again of the ghost called San Lang. 

This dream was different from the previous ones, however. This one was more like a memory dream, like his agency was gone and he was watching it happen. He talked to the man without issue, and the man responded in words he understood at once, but he gained no real information. He still was too weak to leave the bed, but he was able to gesture with his arms, to hold his own cup of water. 

The drinking itself just didn't satisfy him in the same way as before. He drank and drank and drank, but he couldn’t be sated.

As they talked, the man was slightly colder than he remembered, though still polite. He stayed behind the red curtain without pulling it aside, as if he didn't want to see Xie Lian up close, or didn't want Xie Lian to see him. He kept calling him "Your Highness" but it was said with the slightest inflection of disdain or mockery. Just enough for him to detect, but not enough that he could call attention to it. 

It was a deeply unsatisfying and unsettling dream compared to the previous one. He didn't drift out of that dream as if falling asleep.

It ended abruptly, and he was glad for it.

Hua Cheng sat pouting in his chair, unwilling to leave it again in case his God woke up unexpectedly. He had only left for a moment—he’d been gone less than half an incense time to settle a bit of drama at the Gambler’s Den. He wasn’t expecting His Highness to wake just yet, but of course, he stirred the moment Hua Cheng stepped away. 

He was glad he was able to check in by looking through his butterflies, but he lamented that he hadn’t kept his vision locked on him the entire time. If he had, he could have returned immediately.

He bent over, elbows resting on his knees, rubbing at his temples, his heart heavy with shame. It made sense that His Highness would still be thirsty. A person died of thirst far quicker than they did hunger. If he was still that thirsty now it meant he hadn't given him nearly enough last time, he'd probably just revived that need within him. Hua Cheng couldn’t imagine having nothing to drink for decades, not while still alive. How could someone withstand such a thing? That anger rose up in him, but it was largely tempered by his rising anxiety.

His Highness needed to eat. Hua Cheng was beginning to feel frantic about this.

The last thing he needed was for His God’s heart to stop now, out of hunger. 

Next time, instead of water, he’d have broth ready for him to drink. His Highness needed to consume something with substance. This was non-negotiable. He mentally contacted Yin Yu and told him to have the kitchen prepare some very plain vegetable broth.

Hua Cheng watched him sleep for more hours than he would dare admit to anyone. 

He was hypnotized by him finally being here. He was still full of his usual self loathing, but he saw no real harm in indulging this guilty pleasure. Being able to see His God in the flesh for as long as he wanted, to take in every detail, was a gift in and of itself. Most of those details, at present, were feeding his self loathing anyways. 

Some might have struggled with this tragic picture of him, but Hua Cheng could see his God’s true face behind this death mask, the face he had lovingly carved hundreds of times. He knew soon those cheeks would be full and healthy again. Color would return to his skin. His hair would shine.

His God drifted in and out of consciousness a few times over the next day. His eyes were always puttering around behind his eyelids, always dreaming dreaming dreaming. He would occasionally stir, and make some kind of little noise like he was partially awake, but when Hua Cheng would speak to him or even lightly touch him, he wouldn’t respond. After a few moments he would be still once more. 

It was like he didn’t have the energy to wake up, but he’d had too much rest to stay asleep. 

Eventually Hua Cheng decided to do the same thing he had done those first couple of days, but instead of wringing water into his mouth from a cloth, he dripped vegetable broth in. Just a few drops at a time, not enough to choke on. He wasn’t sure if he was achieving anything with this, but in time the broth appeared to give His Highness enough energy to rouse again. 

It happened fast. 

His eyes shot open without warning, wild and confused. Hua Cheng had been in the middle of straightening out his blankets so he was kind of hovering over him. They both froze, their eyes locked.

“Your Highness? Are you okay?” he asked slowly. His Highness stared at him in wonder.

“San Lang?” he asked hopefully. Hua Cheng couldn’t help but smile, hearing that His God had remembered his name.

“Yes, Your Highness, I’m here.” He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning in so His Highness wouldn’t have to strain anything to look over. He had to remember to speak slowly so he could keep up. His Highness seemed to remember language, but his comprehension was extremely slow.

“Do you need something? Are you thirsty?”

The man’s brow furrowed like he was trying to decide, and then he paled, as if realizing something horrifying. He slowly grew very flushed in the face and it took him a long time to speak. 

“… bathroom.” he finally said in a whisper. 

Ah. Hm. Hua Cheng should have expected this. He drank half the pitcher last time. It was honestly amazing that his body still remembered how to hold it.

“Of course.” He said and gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I will have to help you.” 

The man looked like he wanted to die. Hua Cheng couldn’t exactly blame him—he would feel the same if put in that position. His Highness grimaced and then gave a curt nod in understanding. 

“I’m going to carry you. I will give you all the privacy I can.” He said softly. 

He wasn’t sure how much of this his God understood but it didn’t really matter. Nothing he said would make this any easier for him. His Highness’s eyes were glazed over in deep resignation. Hua Cheng wordlessly pulled the blankets off and lifted his highness up, bridal style. 

It was disquieting for both of them, but they got the job done.

His Highness never met his eye once. Didn’t look at much at all, other than what he had to. Like he didn’t want to have to remember any of it. By the time Hua Cheng finally got him back in the bed, he was worried the man had checked out completely. He stared up at the wraith butterflies as he was wont to do, but his eyes were glassy, unthinking. 

The two lapsed into silence and Hua Cheng wasn’t quite sure how to break the ice. They needed to get past this awkwardness so His God would eat something instead of going back to sleep. He very gently laid a hand on His God’s forearm. 

His Highness flinched. Hua Cheng drew back immediately, like he touched something hot. What was he thinking?

“I-I’m sorry Your Highness!” He stammered, cursing inwardly. His God spared him a sheepish look and heaved a sigh.

“I’ll try my best not to touch you, but please.” He begged. “You need to eat.”

He saw something close to amusement flash across His Highness’s face. The slightest rise and drop of his shoulders.

Did he just shrug?

“Your Highness, really. Even if you don’t feel hungry.” After a moment of mulling over his words, His Highness finally spoke.

“Not… Your Highness… now.” He said flatly. Hua Cheng frowned. He was glad he had been able to string so many words together but that was not the response he was hoping for.

“Alright, Xie Lian then, will you please eat?” Hua Cheng winced as he spoke. He hated to use His Highness’s name. It was undeserved, blasphemous, but he didn’t know what else to call him at the moment. His Highness’s eyes grew wide. Alarmed. 

“... my name?” He dared to hold Hua Cheng’s gaze at long last. There was surprise on his face, as well as a hint of suspicion.

Hua Cheng matched him in surprise. He remembered he was no longer a prince but had he really forgotten his own name? Or was he just surprised that Hua Cheng knew him? Even if language was coming back to him—quicker now, even—what was the state of his memory?

“Yes, Xie Lian, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince of Xianle.” he said cautiously. His God looked dazed at first, then as if he was drawn into deep thought. He didn’t say anything, however, or couldn’t find the words yet. Hua Cheng continued.

“I have broth. You can drink it from a cup. Just like before?” 

His Highness heaved out a deep, world-weary puff of air, as frustrated as Hua Cheng was beginning to feel. He looked sad.

“No, thank you.” Then, in a small voice. “Don’t want… to…  remember.” 

“Remember what, Y—  Xie Lian?” 

Another pronounced pause. This was the standard at this point.

“Eating… Taste.” 

Hua Cheng wasn’t even sure how to respond to that. 

“I know this must be hard but, you can eat all you want, whenever you want.” He tried to reassure him. 

“No… Not after… I… wake up. ” His eyes were wet now, shining, reflecting the light of the butterflies. Hua Cheng tried to process what he meant by this. It took a moment, all the possibilities. He was clearly distraught. 

And then it hit him like a punch to the gut.

No, surely not.

“Your Highness… Do you think this is a dream?” He asked, unable to stop the slight tremble in his voice.

“This… is… a dream.” His God said, perfectly level. “No... a nightmare.” Hua Cheng was stunned. 

This whole time? He thought he was dreaming?!

“Your Highness.” He breathed. “This is real.” His God shook his head and actually choked out a laugh. It was a devastating little sound.

“Nightmare.” He reiterated stubbornly. His eyes looked empty, far away.

“Why a nightmare?” Hua Cheng asked, trying not to feel hurt. His Highness thought for a moment.

“Can’t move... barely… talk. I’m… this.” He said in dismay, eyes briefly flashing across the length of his body. Hua Cheng unconsciously drew a bit closer to him.

“That’s because you need to recover. Because I got you out of there.” 

“No!” His Highness nearly shouted. Hua Cheng flinched back.

“Never out!” His beautiful brown eyes were suddenly desperate, angry.

“There. Is. No. Out.” 

It was like someone had ripped Hua Cheng’s unbeating heart right out of his chest. He wanted to reach over, to take His Highness’s hand, but he remembered how he’d jumped before.

“What do I have to do? To make you believe me?” He asked weakly. His Highness looked away.

“How… could I… believe you?” 

Up till now, none of his tears had actually fallen. He was blinking them back valiantly, fighting for his composure. One of those tears finally spilled over. He jerked his arms, like he wanted to reach up and scrub it away. 

But of course, he couldn’t. 

Hua Cheng wanted to reach over and wipe it away for him, but of course he wouldn’t dare.

It had been a very long time since the ghost king had felt so completely helpless. 

Xie Lian took a couple deep breaths to steady himself. 

There had once been some kind of mantra he would say in times like this, but those words were long gone from his memory—like his own name had apparently been. He couldn’t believe he had returned to this dream yet again. This time he was lucid again, but for some reason he’d wanted to cry from the moment he arrived. 

As if he wasn’t pitiful enough like this.

At least he was more alert than he usually was in these dreams. He was thinking surprisingly clearly, only having to chase his words for a moment. He didn’t always catch all of the words San Lang spoke, but his mind was getting faster at their interpretation. It was improvement, even if he was no closer to moving his limbs.

He gathered his courage, and glanced at the ghost he had petulantly shouted at. He expected to see anger reflected back.

There was no obvious anger in his face. San Lang was contemplating Xie Lian with an utterly unreadable expression. On the whole, he did seem unhappy at this turn in their conversation. 

He didn’t like being told he was just part of a nightmare. That was understandable. 

Xie Lian felt a bit guilty about speaking the truth, but he was tired of playing this little game of pretend. He wanted to wake up, but the dream wouldn’t let him. Maybe he just had to play along until it ran its natural course. 

Finally his nerves could take the awkward silence no more.

“I’ll eat.” He said dispassionately. 

He really didn’t want to. He thought he could recall having eating dreams long ago, when his hunger was still intense. He wasn’t sure if he could actually recall the taste of food after them, but then again, it had been a very long time. This might as well happen. 

He could appreciate the relief on San Lang’s face after he said this. He would much rather see that face happy than angry.

San Lang stood up and reached over to him, tentatively.

“Your Highness, may I?” he asked. 

The ghost had slipped back into calling him by his old title. Xie Lian wanted to correct him, but he didn’t want to appear cross anymore. He nodded and San Lang lifted him forward, slipping that same old pillow behind him to prop him up. Although it was strange and a little awkward to be fed, there actually was a part of him that enjoyed this for some reason. Maybe it was the feeling of being cared for. He hadn’t been cared for by another since he was a prince. 

As the lukewarm broth hit his tongue, it was like someone had slapped him with it. The flavor. Every taste bud screamed to life all at once and it was almost too overwhelming. He must have reacted, because San Lang retracted the cup a bit.

“Is it okay?”

Xie Lian was sitting, shock-still. Slowly he nodded. 

“Good.” He managed to say. Oh this had been a mistake, hadn’t it? 

The ghost smiled sweetly and brought the cup back up once more. Between the slow sips, for San Lang made him take his time with the broth, he began asking Xie Lian questions. His voice was light and conversational, but also calculated.

“So then, Your Highness, you have lots of dreams then?”

“Yes… all the time… now.” It was odd to speak of dreams while still within one.

“And you’ve dreamed about me before?”

“…Yes.”

“You dreamed of me finding you in the coffin?”

“......Yes.” 

Wasn't it rather strange for a dream to talk to him about another dream?

“Do you usually know when you're dreaming?” he asked. He thought about it.

“Rare.” He said, tilting his head, recalling the dream of Feng Xin nailing him into the coffin. “Sometimes… dreams are… just wrong. And… I can tell… it can’t be real.”

“I see. How do you know, with certainty, that this is a dream?” Xie Lian could tell he was being challenged. That was easy.

“You… are impossible.”

It was the best way he knew to put it. San Lang frowned at that and Xie Lian wilted slightly. Why was he so worried about offending a figment of his own imagination?

“Have all the dreams here with me been… lucid?” he finally asked.

“No… and sometimes… I can move, talk better.” San Lang was surprised by this. His interest seemed to double.

“Oh, what do we talk about then?” Xie Lian wracked his brains. Eventually he shrugged in defeat. 

“Can’t remember.” Hua Cheng paused, it was clear his mind was turning, like he was working on a puzzle. He could tell the puzzle was him.

“What have I told you about myself then?” 

“Just… you’re a ghost… named San Lang. And you… know my name.” 

The cup of broth had finally been drained. San Lang placed it back on the bedside table. 

“Let's take a break from the broth. If you want more in a moment, I’ll refill the cup.” Xie Lian agreed. He could already feel his insides doing something in response. As good as it tasted, his stomach was agitated, like it was cramping up. 

They lapsed into silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. Xie Lian was not short of questions, but he wondered if getting answers would even really matter.

“Do you have a lot of repeat dreams?” San Lang asked. Xie Lian hummed.

“Repeat… memories, yes.”

“What about repeating dreams of people you don’t know? Like being here with me?” 

Xie Lian tried to think of another time he had had dreams like this. Many faces had visited his dreams, countless faces over the years, but they had all been familiar. Even if he didn’t know them, in the dream he knew them. Mostly they were old servants from the palace of Xianle or fellow cultivators on Mount Taicang. Eventually Xie Lian shook his head.

“I don’t… think so. Not… like you.” The ghost seemed satisfied to hear it.

“And have you “woken up” again, since the first time you dreamed of me? Back there, I mean.”

“Of course.” Xie Lian said, a bit morosely.

“How do you know being back in the coffin wasn’t another dream, then?” he asked carefully. Xie Lian blinked. 

Huh. That was… not actually a bad question. He thought back to the times he had woken up recently. 

Last time he was in the coffin, he had been pounding on the lid, breaking his hands again. Only that wasn’t possible, was it? His arms didn’t have strength anymore. 

Ok, that… was a dream. Before that…

Wu Ming had shared his coffin. 

Definitely a dream. He could feel his heart beating faster. Ok. What was… before that?

A different false rescue dream. Bai Wuxiang. Xie Lian had to agree to join him before he would help. He had pulled him out and hugged him. Xie Lian had been revolted, but he was too emotionally weak to pull away. Even if it was his worst enemy, to be held after so long in the dark… he could not resist it. 

Before that was… normal, right? He had woken back up and been distraught because he thought he’d finally been allowed to die, but he hadn’t.

Oh, but then I… Oh.

He suddenly thought he could feel Ruoye around his neck again. 

That was… a bad dream. 

But it had to be fake, because Ruoye would never, even if he demanded it. 

Ok. Next. 

He thought long and hard, but nothing else sprang to mind. 

That was it. 

His hands were shaking now. That thing called hope was ringing loudly in his ears, and he was trying not to hear it.

Before that, San Lang found him in the coffin. The dream had ended just as he was lifting him out. Since that rescue, not one venture back into the coffin had been a real one, as far as he could tell.

He’d never had any dreams similar to this before that rescue—a series of dreams, all taking place in the same location but with a continued narrative. His dreams were almost always tied in with the narrative of his past. His repeat dreams were always repeat dreams. The people might change, but the story was the story, and it was usually a little piece of his life. 

Something like panic was building in him. San Lang was talking to him, but Xie Lian’s mind was racing now, knocking off layers of dust. He was unable to hear him through the chaos of his mind finally waking up.

Had he ever had a dream where he was stuck with the same body as in the coffin? 

Surprisingly, no.

Had he ever had another dream taking place after escaping? 

Also, no.

This couldn't be reality. He felt like he was vibrating. Fear. Hope. Fear. Hope. That same old refrain came crashing into his mind. 

Don’t believe it! How many times… must I go through this?

He peered over at San Lang, who was dripping with worry, as he often did. 

No one… would look at me… like that. Not a stranger. 

He always believed he was saved in these dreams, right? And it was always a wonderful lie. How could this ghost have even found him? He had no reason to have even been searching for him and he didn’t exactly look like a grave robber.

But maybe there was some kind of explanation?

Hope had sunken its claws into him now, and he was afraid to move, afraid to be hurt. Somehow he found the strength to lean himself forward, his back actually leaving the pillow. He was fueled by inhuman strength that could only come from a surge of adrenaline. 

“San Lang…” he said, his voice quivering. “How did you... find me?”

San Lang’s pupils widened, like he was caught off-guard by this. Then he seemed to choose his next words with care.

“I was reading about the Gilded Banquet massacre of Yong’an. About the State Preceptor who was nailed into a coffin.” He spoke very slowly, because he knew he had a lot to explain. 

“Parts of the story didn’t add up. I found out the real mastermind was a member of Xianle royalty, and he was never discovered. I investigated the man who took the blame to understand why.” He gestured at Xie Lian. Xie Lian’s heart was faint and fast, like a hummingbird in his chest. 

“Following a hunch, I decided to hunt down the coffin. I found you.” San Lang said gravely. “And I am so, so sorry I didn't find you earlier.” San Lang tore his eyes away from Xie Lian, deeply remorseful.

“If I had just known earlier… I’m so sorry, Your Highness.” The man’s voice actually cracked at that last word. Xie Lian was speechless.

This story made sense for the most part. If true, this man sure was the meddling sort. Xie Lian studied him until he finally looked back up.

“How do you know… me?” He asked, incredulous. A wry smile then crossed San Lang’s otherwise sullen face.

“In life, I was from Xianle.” He said. “Of course I would recognize our Prince, our God. I have a good memory.” Now it was Xie Lian’s turn to drop his head in disgrace.  

Okay then. It’s… possible.  

He didn’t yet understand why this man was helping him, why he was so sorry, but this was pretty believable? Why couldn’t it be the truth? Other than that his luck was nowhere near good enough.

He kept searching— searching for the reason it had to be a dream. Nothing came to mind, only evidence to the contrary.

Oh. 

This was real, wasn’t it? 

At the very least, there was a very good chance it was.

There was still a corner of his mind that held onto his denial, but now that he’d stayed awake long enough to think about it, to ask the right questions with a level head, and with something in his stomach… It felt awfully cut and dry. Obvious even, though his current circumstances still felt pretty absurd and fanciful. 

He was awake. He was really here. 

He was out. He had been. All this time.

The room around him jumped back into view. San Lang was becoming increasingly blurry through the tears that were starting to build now. He was trembling, and his voice hitched when he spoke.

“This is… real?” he gasped.

“Yes.”

“Do…do you… promise me?”

It was like he was laying his very sanity in the hands of a stranger. 

If this turned out to be another dream… he couldn’t bear it. This was truly the last straw. His last chance at hope.

San Lang hesitated, but he reached over and took Xie Lian’s hand, leaning far over to meet him face to face. Though usually cool, like marble, right now that hand was scorching. His eye was blazing like a hot coal.

“I promise.” He replied in a voice deep and solid as bedrock. “This is real.” 

Xie Lian believed him.

He finally shattered. 

The tears began falling in earnest. San Lang squeezed his hand tightly as he fell apart. 

“I-I’m really out.” He sobbed.

“You are free, and you are awake.” The ghost said reassuringly.

He knew he must be an awful sight, unable to turn away, but this was too much. All of this, well most of it, had happened. It was a lot to swallow at once. This meant San Lang had found him. Pulled out that stake. Healed him. Brought him to his home. He was taking care of him. Oh no, he had helped him use the bathroom. He thought that was just part of a nightmare. 

At this moment, surprisingly, he didn’t even care. Didn’t care he was a dried up husk of a man who could barely form words. Didn’t care if this ghost was disgusted by him.

He had really, finally escaped The Dark.

He was swaying unsteadily now, as he was still sitting up in the bed on his own. San Lang tentatively placed one of his hands on the back of his shoulder, as if to anchor and comfort him. In spite of himself, and without even thinking about it, Xie Lian leaned forward just slightly. The ghost took the unconscious cue immediately, and his arms wrapped around his quaking shoulders, folding him in a careful embrace. One hand smoothed the hair on the top of his head.

If Bai Wuxian could hug him, why not someone he’d just met? He allowed himself to lean on the ghost, his crumpled mess of a face buried thankfully out of view. 

Xie Lian let himself go, lost to the oblivion of his relief. He didn’t cry loudly but it was a long, long while before he stopped shaking and his breathing evened out. He noted, inappropriately for the moment, that the ghost’s robes smelled nice. 

Oh, to smell something that wasn’t stale blood and decay.

A bit of that lingering fear still clung to him like a protective scab. What if he went to sleep and woke up again in the coffin, just as he had so many times before? He needed to leave the scab—he wasn’t willing to pick at it too much.  If this was real, he knew eventually it would fall off. If not, it was all that was protecting the wound that was his rattled mind.

As self awareness re-established itself, he remembered that San Lang, someone he hardly knew, was still holding him. He felt a bit bashful. He’d cried all over him. All over these expensive robes. The ghost probably thought he was so idiotic, thinking he was dreaming this up. He didn’t want to pull back and meet San Lang’s eye. 

Even if he wanted to, that unprecedented strength from earlier had faded as he calmed down. His abs and lower back were aching from sitting all the way upright, even if he was braced against this person.

As if sensing the moment was now over. San Lang slowly leaned forward and lowered Xie Lian back onto his pillow prop. His arms slid away from him and, almost too quickly for Xie Lian to notice, he had wiped his face dry with both thumbs. It made Xie Lian’s heart jump unexpectedly. 

“Your Highness…?” He asked. Xie Lian gave a self deprecating smile, eyes lowered.

“I’m okay.” He huffed out a laugh.

“San Lang… Thank you.” He tried to put every ounce of his immense gratitude into those words. 

Xie Lian wanted him to understand the depth of it. Never had he owed someone such a debt. He owed this man everything. This inquisitive ghost must be the only one in the world who could ever have found him. The only man generous enough to take him into his care as well. It had to have been… oh, he had to have been a horrible mess to clean up. But here he was, washed and dressed, hair combed, heart healed. 

When Xie Lian was strong enough, he would find some way to pay him back, even if it took a lifetime. If that were the case, it would be an acceptable use of his eternity. Anything was better than an eternity buried alone in the darkness.

“Thank you.” He repeated earnestly to his savior.

The ghost gazed back down at him, somewhat sadly, he thought.

“Your Highness, it is my honor. You never need thank me.”

Chapter Text

Everything was different, now that it was real. 

Xie Lian was seeing with his own two eyes and they devoured the room he was in, taking in every detail he had ignored previously. Anything too far in the distance was a bit fuzzy, but he could still make out most of the objects around him. There appeared to be a window across from him and one to the left, as well as doors on either side of the room to the left and right, one of which apparently went outside. The room was lit softly with a number of lanterns and candles, but his bed canopy was perpetually lit by the butterflies.

To think, those wondrous glowing creatures actually existed outside of his imagination. As he was observing them, San Lang spoke up.

“You like them?” he asked. Xie Lian smiled and nodded. 

“What are they?”

“Wraith butterflies. They come from my vambraces, usually,” he said, gesturing to the silver armor clasped to his forearms. They were exquisite, much like the rest of his outfit, and engraved with butterflies, flowers, and exotic beasts. He wondered if San Lang had fashioned them himself.

“So… little spirits?”

“Basically. I figured you’d hate being in the dark, so I’m letting them watch over you,” said the ghost, reaching out a hand. 

One of the butterflies floated down to land on the tip of his finger. It sat there, resting its wings for a moment. Xie Lian was momentarily transfixed by the sight.

“I… “ Xie Lian struggled to find the word he was looking for. Talking was getting easier, but he was still getting hung up, having to find alternate words when the right one just wouldn’t spring to mind. 

“appreciate it,” he said at last, a little triumphantly. “All of this.” San Lang gave him a warm smile.

Though Xie Lian was avoiding inspecting himself for the most part, he could now appreciate the silkiness of his robes. They had a beautiful spider lily pattern along the hem, striking red on white. They were sized to fit San Lang, who was probably taller, but it didn’t matter in the bed. He savored the bone-deep warmth he could feel while nestled here. Everything was the opposite from what he had known. 

Cold, Dark, Damp, Putrid, Thirsty, Aching.

The pain in his heart was gone. Not dulled, gone. The persistent sores on his elbows, tail-bone and heels, gone. 

Why had it not mattered earlier? Because he thought it was a dream? Because the pain would be back?

He knew, once the novelty of the situation wore off, this weak body of his would become more and more frustrating. At the moment though, he could and did relish every little thing he could sense and feel with it. 

His mind kept drifting back to the taste of that broth. He wanted more. He felt bad about asking though. This was going to be a hurdle for him. Though he’d only known the ghost a little while, he already knew he wouldn’t want him to stay quiet about this. He had been trying to get him to eat for at least a couple days.

“San Lang?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I…?” His eyes darted meekly at the cup from earlier.

“More broth?”

“Yes… please.”

San Lang poured more broth for him and came to sit on the edge of the bed with it. He gently brought the cup up to his lips. Xie Lian was getting used to this, but it was still a bit weird. Once he got a taste, however, he stopped caring. It had tasted good before, but somehow, knowing it was real made it the best thing he’d ever eaten. After his second cup, Xie Lian felt full and deeply satisfied. 

For the first time he could even remember, Xie Lian was happy to be alive.

He was happy he was awake. 

His thoughts were already drifting far into the future— where he would go, what he might do next.

He knew he would be stuck in this bed for some time, but he couldn’t help but be excited. He was a man reborn and endless possibilities now lay ahead of him. Before he was put in the coffin, life had felt like a lonely stretch of misery without end. What a stupid way to see things! No matter his luck, there was a beautiful sky to behold, fresh air and fragrant flowers to breathe in, new things to taste, and new people to meet. 

He would never take such things for granted, not ever again. He couldn't wait to be back in the world once more.

Just as the broth was different, now that it was real, he also saw San Lang from a new perspective. He was embarrassed that he actually thought he had dreamed him up. Literally his dream man. He was glad he hadn’t said anything out loud about his beauty or about enjoying his attention. His thoughts had been rather improper, in retrospect. 

He had so many things he wanted to ask, but he really didn’t even know where to begin. He should ask how long he’d been in the coffin, but he wasn’t yet ready for the answer. 

“Ghost City… has it… always existed?” he spoke up, wondering about the faint red light filtering through the windows. He was surprised he’d never heard of it.

“No. It was founded about five hundred years ago. It started small, but it’s grown steadily over the centuries.”

“Who founded it?” Xie Lian asked, wondering what sort of ghost would be so ambitious. San Lang chuckled. 

“Have you ever heard the name Hua Cheng?” Xie Lian blinked, and shook his head. San Lang grinned and it was positively devilish.

“There are many rumors about him, but few know the truth. They say his appearance changes often and he could appear like anyone—a twisted little boy, a polite young man, a cruel seductress even— but in all forms, he is a monster that even Heaven fears.” 

He sounded impressive. This ghost seemed to respect him, and he seemed pretty powerful himself.

“I see… I really am… behind.”

“That’s alright. I can help you catch up. We have nothing but time,” he said with a soft laugh. 

San Lang stretched and leaned back in his chair, propping one booted foot up on the bed a little mischievously, hands resting behind his head. 

Xie Lian had mostly been focused on his face since they met—he hadn’t really taken in the whole view of him before. He was very tall, lanky, but Xie Lian knew how strong those arms were. He had been braced against him a few times now and knew that under all the finery he was in excellent shape. He would look good with a sword in his hand. 

Xie Lian realized he was practically ogling him and tore his eyes away.

Even though he was fully awake and not just dreaming, this person still did not feel real to him.

Xie Lian had never been drawn in by another person in such a way before. He wasn’t sure why he was so spellbound. Sometimes the ghost was almost hard to look at; sometimes equally hard to look away from. He hoped he hadn’t stared too much. Perhaps it was because it was the first new face he had seen?

Though he was fascinated, he still couldn’t fathom the man’s care nor his full intentions. He felt they had met before but he couldn’t imagine when or where. He was unquestionably wealthy and spoke like he was well educated, yet at the same time he gave off an unmistakably deadly aura. He was very curious indeed.

Xie Lian’s thoughts were interrupted when he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, like he’d been stabbed.

Xie Lian’s stomach was really beginning to cramp up. It had been making some rather unusual noises since he drank his first cup of broth, but now things seemed to be escalating. His digestive system was still trying to wake up. These abdominal cramps were actually rather painful, though it would take far more than this for Xie Lian to make a fuss or show it in the slightest. 

Despite this, San Lang seemed to somehow know at once that something was wrong.

“Your Highness, are you alright?” 

The ghost’s playfully languid demeanor dropped at once, and that worry was plastered back on his face. Xie Lian was a bit disheartened by the change. He liked the more relaxed San Lang. 

“I’m fine… just…” he hunted for the word, “digesting.” 

“Does it hurt?” he asked, brows knitted together. 

“Fine…I’ll be… okay,” he reassured him, donning his most practiced smile. San Lang frowned.

“You don’t have to hide it if you’re feeling bad,” he said gently but sternly. “If you need anything, please ask. Don’t keep it to yourself, alright Your Highness?” Xie Lian stilled, catching his eye. Finally, he nodded. 

Xie Lian got the impression that this man knew a lot about him. Not just historical facts, but who he was. As a person. 

He treated him with the utmost respect, but his eyes also shined with such genuine affection. They had definitely had met before. San Lang wasn’t eager to explain however, and Xie Lian didn’t want to push him or act rudely. He knew the name San Lang was a nickname, but ghosts didn’t usually identify the same way they had in life anyhow.

It would be best to wait and see what information he was willing to offer up on his own.

With his digestion in full swing, Xie Lian felt like most of his energy was being directed to that purpose, and for the first time since waking, he was beginning to feel cold. Not enough to shiver, but enough for it to be slightly unpleasant. It was the exact sort of thing the ghost wanted to be informed of. 

He marveled at how much the man had done for him already. He couldn’t help but feel guilty and sheepish.

“I’m…a bit... cold,” he finally admitted. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” San Lang said. He sprang into action with unprecedented gusto. Before Xie Lian could even really react, he’d removed the pillow holding him mostly upright and pulled the blanket covers up to his chin, even taking the time to tuck him in properly.

“Is that warm enough or do you need another blanket?” he asked kindly. Xie Lian could feel his cheeks flush.

“N-no, this is… fine,” he replied, eyes darting away.

The more he thought about it, the more he really didn’t like this.

San Lang had already washed him, dressed him, fed him, and more. Xie Lian lamented that there would be even more to come. He didn’t enjoy having to be waited on. Though, of course, he appreciated everything San Lang was doing, he would still have to get used to a lack of independence, to say nothing of privacy. 

Xie Lian just needed to get his strength back as soon as possible, so he wouldn’t be so much trouble. 

“San Lang… you have… no attendants?”

“I do,” he said, somewhat cautiously.

“They…  should tend to me. Not you,” he said lightly, in what he hoped was a respectful manner. He didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but it was odd that the head of such a wealthy house was handling this himself.

“I wouldn’t trust His Highness’s care to anyone else,” San Lang said matter-of-factly, as he crossed his arms. 

Xie Lian stared at him, at a loss for words. Well, more so than usual. 

He was touched by the sentiment, but also confused. He wondered if the ghost had once been a believer of his. What other explanation was there? To care for someone’s every need like this was a massive job. It was not one just anyone would take on. He believed that San Lang was from Xianle—he could just hear it in his accent—but he couldn’t imagine why any of his old subjects would still hold him with any regard, especially not after death and several centuries later. 

There was always a chance he had some kind of ulterior motive. Xie Lian had been around long enough to know when something seems too good to be true, it usually is. Xie Lian also had good survival instincts, though, and he felt no threat from this ghost, even if he was objectively dangerous. He trusted him. 

Even if San Lang’s countenance changed, and he grew tired of or angry with his guest, it’s not like he could kill him. As long as he wasn’t cruel enough to put him back in the coffin, Xie Lian did not fear what he might do. 

There was much more he wanted to ask, but after the events of this day he was beginning to crash. Apparently digestion was an intense endeavor for a body like his, even just some broth. It was as if eating drew all the energy out of him instead of fueling him. He was glad he was laying back down already.

He didn’t want to sleep yet and he made a strong effort to stay awake, making desperate small talk.

He didn’t want this to go away.

He didn’t think it would go away, but he just wasn’t sure.

The Dark was always waiting, wasn’t it? Would he fear sleeping for the rest of his days? Would he always be afraid of the dark? The scab was still there. Just because this didn’t have to be a dream didn’t mean it couldn’t still be a dream. 

Unfortunately, he could only hold out for so long. It’s not like he could stay awake forever. All banquets must come to an end.

For better or worse, he was dragged under once again.

Hua Cheng leaned on the banister of the balcony off from his bedroom, observing Ghost City below him. The frosty night air felt nice, and it always pleased him to see all that he had built within view. It made him feel sure of himself and reminded him of who he had become and what he was capable of. Being around His Highness brought some part of his past self to the surface, those age-old feelings of helplessness and failure. He needed to remind himself he was more than just a ghost fire. More than Wu Ming, too.

His right eye, though blind, was looking through one of the butterflies he had set over His Highness’s bed. He had drifted off and, since he’d been awake for quite awhile, he would likely now sleep for awhile, too. He didn’t dare wander any further than this, just in case. He breathed a sigh of immense relief. Hua Cheng could now see the light at the end of the tunnel. Finally, the world was back under his feet, and he was steady.

What would he have even done if his God just refused to believe he was awake? If he had been incapable of seeing reason or facing reality? The fact that he was so convinced he must be dreaming was proof of how torturous his ordeal in the coffin must have been. He had completely lost all hope. 

He had reached the point where he couldn’t even believe life outside of the coffin was possible anymore. 

‘There is no out.’ 

Hua Cheng shuddered at his words and wondered how many times His Highness dreamed of freedom in vain. He surged with renewed anger, fresh and biting. 

His God would be okay now. He had eaten, he understood his situation, and his speech was improving by leaps and bounds. His mind was mending itself and his bodily functions were returning. Now Hua Cheng could take the time he needed to consider the other matter at hand. 

Retribution.

It was time to start moving pieces of a plan into place. It took an immense amount of self-restraint not to storm up to heaven right now and teach Lang Qianqiu the meaning of fear. No amount of bodily injury could be enough to match what he'd put his God through, however. Instant gratification wasn’t always best . He wanted to savor this. He wanted to destroy that man, body and mind.

 Hua Cheng spoke the password of He Xuan’s personal communication array.

“Black Water. Do you have a minute?” 

There was a beat.

“Go on.”

“I need a favor.”

“You already know I owe you, what do you want?” He said tiredly.

“I need Ming Yi’s eyes and ears. I want you to keep watch on General Tai Hua. Specifically how often he goes to the mortal realm and for what reasons.”

“Planning to start killing off gods again? Why not just show up and challenge him? He’d be dumb enough to accept.”

“I have plans, but killing him would be too kind.”

“That’s terrifying coming from you.”

“You’re one to talk. Can you do it?”

“We aren’t that well acquainted, but I can try.”

“Don’t try, just do it. In return, I’ll help you with your heavenly official when the time comes.” 

There was a long pause.

“Very well. How soon will you need this information?”

“There’s no rush. I’ll be busy for at least the next month, maybe even two.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open.” 

“Good.”

Hua Cheng exited the array. Now things were in motion.

He had already instructed Yin Yu to research methods to suppress spiritual power in a god. Hua Cheng couldn’t make a divine shackle, but there had to be something else out there that was similar. It wouldn’t be terribly hard to lure and trap Lang Qianqiu in a coffin. It was keeping him there that would be difficult. 

Most spells or talismans, with enough time and effort and struggle, would be broken by a god. To render him truly helpless, his power itself needed to be sealed. With his power sealed, he could go hungry. He wouldn’t be able to heal quickly. He wouldn’t be able to conjure a light or reach out through a communication array for help. Hua Cheng was going to need this to last at least seventy years or more. 

There was also the matter of finding a way to nail him in that wouldn’t just kill him. He thought he could find a spell for that too. He would have to do some of the research himself once he could leave his God’s side for longer periods of time. Right now, His Highness was still in a delicate state, reliant in every way. Until he could walk himself to the bathroom, he would be standing at the ready. 

Hua Cheng took a swig straight out of the bottle of liquor he had carried out here. He needed something to take the edge off. 

He’d been seriously wound up for three days straight. He should be able to relax a bit now, but he wasn’t able to. Even if His Highness was going to be okay, there was still his anger to contend with, and that wasn't all. Part of him was apprehensive about the plans he was making. Not because he didn’t want to see Lang Qianqiu suffer—he very very very very much did, but he also knew His Highness would not like this. He wasn't accustomed to feeling guilt these days, but now it felt like his lord and master. Wasn't destroying the one who caused all this supposed to assuage his guilt? Why did these plans just make him feel worse? If this couldn't fix things, what could?

These feelings gave him pause, but they did not deter him from his plans. 

While he loved his God and he would do anything for him, his God did not love himself very much. His self-worth shattered long ago and never recovered. Hua Cheng had not met him again for centuries, but he had been collecting plenty of stories about him in his pursuit. His Highness, known now as the Scrap Immortal, was endlessly kind and forgiving, but clearly he had never forgiven himself. Now a harbinger of misfortune, he let the world walk all over him without retaliation—probably as some kind of atonement.

Hua Cheng wouldn’t allow it any longer. He wouldn’t allow his God’s enemies to go unpunished. He wouldn't allow anyone to blame, use, abuse, or insult him. Even if his God no longer cared what anyone said or did to him, Hua Cheng would make up for it by caring twice as much. 

His God didn’t even need to know he was being avenged. This was not something Hua Cheng was doing to bring his Beloved peace, or closure, or catharsis. He wasn’t deluded into thinking this wasn’t purely for himself. It was a selfish pursuit, and he could accept that.  

What he couldn’t accept was Lang Qianqiu doing what he did and never knowing remorse.

Xie Lian opened his eyes and saw only pitch blackness. 

No trace of silver butterflies. 

Oh no.

The air was cold and stale and his back was wet, his robes soaked through. 

No way. This isn’t real.

He tried to move, but there was no strength in him. He was back in the coffin. 

No, no, no, no, no! 

That smell again, iron and decay, the smell of his unending death—it made him want to retch. Why?! He could feel the cold slurry of blood he laid in, chilling him to the bone. Those sores on his back side, eating away at him. His hair, matted again, tugging at his head. 

Why couldn’t it have just been real!? 

The pitch black extended out for an eternity. Silence pressed on his ears so firmly he could feel the weight of it against his eardrums. Silence, except for that terrified thump of his stubborn heart. 

He was paralyzed, helpless, alone again. His fingers managed to curl into a fist.

“Help me,” he whimpered into the void. “Please.” He didn’t know who he was even asking at this point.

He thought he was free. He had believed it, like he always did. 

That ache in his heart—it was always so dull and easy to ignore, but now it's all he could feel. It was so sharp, as if he had been pierced anew, like he was back in the first few days of his entrapment. Each frantic beat, a new spike of pain shooting through him, on and on, no relief, not even for a moment. Constant. Pain. Once again, his existence was nothing but agony in the dark.

It hurts.

He wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted to dream of San Lang again. To feel his sympathetic touch. He wanted to be back in that warm, gloriously dry bed, with his hair combed nice, and the smell of jasmine wafting from his robes. Of course that had been a dream. Why would something that good ever happen? He was such a gullible idiot! 

“AGAIN, I’M FUCKED!” he cursed aloud. The sound of his own shout echoing around him was jarring but he was more angry than he’d been in a very long time. Fuck his cultivation rules.

He continued to scream and cry and curse—at this coffin, at himself, at the gods, at Jun Wu, at fate, and even at Lang Qianqiu who just had to go the extra mile with his burial. He even cursed at San Lang for giving him so much hope just for it to be torn away. 

I can’t take this anymore! I won’t accept this!

“LET ME OUT !” he roared. Xie Lian suddenly swung up at that marble coffin lid, the one that had broken his hands and mocked him for who knew how long.

His fist punched right through it.

Light! Cracks of glowing white spread from where his fist had punctured and then the lid burst into a thousand glimmering pieces and hung suspended there. He was bathed in brightness and warmth. The pain in his heart faded, as joy bloomed there in its place. 

Xie Lian opened his eyes. 

Silver butterflies danced above. 

There was also a one-eyed ghost looking down at him, face lined with concern. Such a familiar sight.

Xie Lian would have burst into tears out of sheer relief, except it appeared he was already crying. He could feel his temples were wet. 

The scab fell off. 

“I’m back,” he breathed, his throat catching.

“Your Highness?” San Lang was leaning over him, and his long dark locks had fallen past his shoulder on his right side. 

Xie Lian noticed that a bit of the hair on that side was braided with a red string and held in place by a bright red pearl. That pearl reminded him of something, or someone. He had definitely seen it before, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember where from. 

“Your Highness?” San Lang repeated, a bit louder.

“I’m okay!” he managed to blurt out, tearing his eye from the familiar trinket. “Really,” he gave him a watery smile. “I’m here again.”

“Yes. Here, safe and sound.” 

San Lang raised his hand, as if he wanted to reach over to his face, but his hand hesitated and he pulled it back instead. He also backed up a little bit to give him space. Xie Lian had the faint urge to reach out and grab his arm to stop him from leaving—not that he could.

“Bad dream?” he asked. Xie Lian nodded and swallowed thickly.

“I thought… I was back there. I thought… I dreamed all this.”

San Lang was solemn at that, but not surprised. “But you know this is real, right?” he asked, a slight edge in his voice.

“Yes. In that dream… I was able to move. I punched the coffin lid.” Xie Lian grew quiet as he came to a realization. 

“What is it?”

“Talking is easier. I’m… remembering much faster!” he said happily.

Though he still had to make a bit of an effort, language was returning to him. His mind felt like a weave of cloth, terribly loosened and unraveled over time, but now the threads were being pulled taut once more. He had started thinking in words again as well, at some point. 

He smiled wide and San Lang reflected a smile back at him. 

“I knew it would come back to you quickly, Your Highness,” San Lang praised. 

“Ah, San Lang?” The ghost raised his eyebrow. “Would you… not call me Your Highness?” San Lang looked apologetic. 

“What would you like to be called?”

“Anything else... just… I haven’t been a prince… for a long time.” The ghost thought for a moment, then his lips curled. There was a little glint of something in his eye.

“I wonder, would you allow a lowly ghost to call you gege?” Xie Lian could feel his face warm at that. He couldn’t recall ever having anyone use that for him before, but he was a little flattered.

“Gege is fine,” he said with a laugh. 

He had only known San Lang for a few days, but this man was already treating him like a good friend so, why not? At least now he knew the ghost was younger than him. San Lang was beaming at him so brightly, Xie Lian had to turn away for fear of getting burned. What a face for a person to have, honestly.

“Would gege like to sit upright?” he asked. Xie Lian nodded, and San Lang made it so. 

The window across from him sprang into view, though he could only see the sky, it seemed about the same time of day as last time. Twilight. He could see the red glow of Ghost Cty. How had he managed not ever to hear about it for five centuries?

A question suddenly sprung to mind, one whose answer he finally felt ready to hear. He took a deep breath, focused on the butterflies, and steeled himself.

“San Lang...  would you tell me... how long was I buried for?” The ghost was quiet. Xie Lian finally had to give in and look over. 

His expression was the darkest Xie Lian had seen it. There was deep sorrow, but also, if he wasn’t mistaken, there was also anger. Though he'd been nothing but gracious to him, Xie Lian could tell this man could be truly terrifying if he wanted to. He seemed to struggle internally for a moment, before finally answering.

“It’s been just over seventy years, Your Highness.” He replied in a low voice. “I’m… I’m sorry.” 

Xie Lian felt… nothing. That was longer than he expected, but it also had somehow felt so much longer than that. Most of the people he had known in Yong’an were now dead or elderly. In a way, he was relieved. It was a mixture of complicated feelings.

“Your H– ah-  gege? Are you alright?” San Lang asked. Xie Lian nodded, still dazed. 

“Yes. I… I suppose time doesn’t matter… when you don’t age.” His heart squeezed. “And I suppose… by now… Lang Qianqiu has… stepped down from the throne. I hope he fared well… as king,” he said. His eyes drifted to the butterfly mask, still propped up on the bedside table. 

San Lang said nothing in reply to this. Eventually he slid off the side of the bed.

“I’m going to have some broth warmed up. Do you feel like you could eat?” he asked, as if the past few exchanges hadn’t even happened. Xie Lian was taken aback at his sudden change of subject, but didn’t try to steer it back.

“Ah, sure. I suppose I’d better.” San Lang turned away to message someone through a communication array, his finger at his temple.

“San Lang?” he asked after a moment. The ghost turned back towards him immediately, overjoyed at the prospect of helping.

“What do you need, gege?”

“Can you… put that… away.” He looked towards the silver butterfly mask.

“Of course. It seemed important, so I brought it back with us.”

“Mmn. It is… but…”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to explain.” The ghost picked the mask up and deposited it in one of the drawers of his dresser.

The next couple days passed quickly, but Xie Lian did not have another coffin dream. He still spent most of his time sleeping, but as he regularly ate and drank, his body slowly began to function better and he could stay awake for longer periods of time. He practiced trying to coordinate the movement of his fingers, but it was hard and frustrating work. 

It took Xie Lian a little while to understand that he wasn’t waking up at the same time, every time. He was in the Ghost Realm, and here it was almost perpetually twilight. It got fully dark only briefly, in the deepest hours of the nighttime. Xie Lian wished he could get up and look out the window properly. He knew if he asked, San Lang would carry him over, but he was already such a nuisance. 

San Lang took care of his every need, as if he literally had nothing better to do. He was a wealthy ghost, so maybe he really didn’t. Xie Lian could tell he was often giving orders to someone through a communication array. Xie Lian never saw any of his servants, though at times he heard them leave things outside the door. 

Eventually, he found out that this was actually San Lang’s bedroom, and it was considered completely off limits to anyone except him and anyone he might invite personally. 

Xie Lian had blushed furiously when he realized he’d been sleeping in the ghost’s bed all this time. San Lang had laughed, saying not to worry, he had only slept in it two or three times in the last few centuries. As a ghost, sleeping was optional and he often had better things to do. Xie Lian was relieved at that, but still secretly wished he would have been put in a guest room at least. 

They talked a great deal during those first two days. After all, Xie Lian needed practice. 

San Lang was a veritable well of information, and they spoke of all sorts of things, never seeming to tire of each other’s company. The ghost told him of most of the major historical events for the past seventy years or so, as well as most of the gossip in Heaven. He never explained how he got said gossip, but by the sound of things, the ghost had people who worked for him all over the place. Xie Lian noticed that none of the history or news was specific to Yong’an, as if he didn’t want to bring up something sensitive. It seemed like whenever he himself brought that place up, the ghost would change the subject. Perhaps, as someone from Xianle, he still held a grudge.

Xie Lian tried many times to get San Lang to talk about himself more, but he acted like he was the most uninteresting person in the world. He was burning with curiosity at all the things he knew were being left unsaid. When he finally grilled him on how he had obtained his wealth, the ghost admitted that he was the owner of a very well-to-do Gambler’s Den in Ghost City. 

Now that made sense. Xie Lian could see it now— he definitely looked the part. It also explained the slightly rakish side the ghost often seemed to be suppressing. He made an effort to appear exceedingly polite, but Xie Lian could tell there was another side of him lurking just under the surface. That was the side he was more interested in.

When Xie Lian asked him why he didn’t need to go run his gambling hall, he simply waved his hand and said he could give orders from here. He had an assistant called the Waning Moon Officer who could tackle most anything that might come up. Xie Lian imagined that a gambler’s den for ghosts probably was a rather wild place. He hoped one day, when he was back on his feet, maybe he could visit.

On the third day of this routine of eating, sleeping, and chatting, San Lang suggested that Xie Lian’s diet be upgraded to chicken broth. 

“You’re going to need extra energy, gege. It’s time to start waking up your muscles.” 

Chapter Text

While the first few days of having His Highness with him had dragged on slowly, the days that followed his proper awakening passed by in the blink of an eye. 

His Highness mostly came to terms with his dependence on Hua Cheng. At least, he wasn’t vocal or oppositional when it came to being fed or carried to the bathroom. Hua Cheng wasn’t blind to the indignation written on his face either. He also knew he wouldn’t like what would come next. His Highness, as a former martial God, would love nothing more than to be able to exercise, but you can't exercise what you can’t even move by yourself. He had brightened when Hua Cheng first mentioned waking his muscles up, but that was before he understood what that meant. 

Hua Cheng had to exercise for him. 

In the beginning, it would be more about getting the blood flow to the muscles than using the muscles themselves. Hua Cheng was going to have to massage those muscles back to life and remind them how to move.

His Highness was a good sport about it, as he was with most things, but Hua Cheng didn’t miss the flush on his face or the way he avoided eye contact as Hua Cheng started working the muscles on his legs and feet. He was as gentle as he could be, swapping often between massaging and stretching. There wasn't a whole lot to work with, but he did the best he could. He tried to make it less awkward by massaging over the pant legs instead of pulling them back. His Highness would hardly spare a glance at his own legs when they were exposed, at one point calling them ‘chopstick legs.’ It was as if he thought as long as he couldn’t see them, they didn’t exist. 

Hua Cheng tried to lighten the mood by chatting idly through the whole thing. His Highness didn’t respond much but seemed even more on edge when things went quiet. It was a helpful distraction to the rather personal interactions that were taking place between them. Hua Cheng might have enjoyed being able to do this for his God, if he didn’t already know how miserable it made him.

When he swapped to working his hands and arms, His Highness relaxed a bit. He was more willing to watch what was happening and even, occasionally, glance up at him. Ruoye also peeked out from under His Highness’s robes to observe what was being done.

“San Lang?” His Highness asked, speaking up on his own for the first time since this chore began.

“Yes, gege?”

“How do you know… what to do? Taking care of me, I mean.” Hua Cheng smiled.

“After I found you, I scoured my library until I found a book on it. It’s not a common subject, but I was lucky. It has a lot of physical recovery instructions, including starvation and muscle decay.”

“It must be a big library.”

“I’ve spent centuries collecting books and scrolls so, yes. I’ll have to show you sometime.” His God gave him an approving look.

“San Lang knows… about so many things. You must really be… an avid reader.”

“Well, one must find some way to spend their afterlife,” Hua Cheng said as he worked the muscles in His Highness’s left hand. He did read a lot, but he had spent most of his time trying to track down the person right next to him.

“I suppose… that is why you found me… right? Reading about the… banquet… ” Hua Cheng’s mood plummeted. 

A white lie, but a necessary one. If he knew how long he’d been searching for him, he might find the ghost terrifying or obsessive. He was both, but that was besides the point. He glanced at his God’s face as he swapped to the other hand. The Crown Prince looked somewhat deflated.

“That’s right,” he lied.

 His Highness breathed out a short laugh.

“I’m sure… I was painted… as quite a villain.” Hua Cheng paused in his hand massage.

“You were, yes. Gege… why did you take the blame?”

He hated to ask, but couldn’t help it. He had his theories, but it was the one thing Hua Cheng didn’t actually know for certain. 

“I… arrived too late… to the banquet. Almost everyone was dead. The King was… still hanging on.” Hua Cheng could tell by his pained expression that he had liked this man very much. 

“He knew it had been Prince An Le… and other Xianle... rebels. He… he was going to…”

“Punish everyone for it?” Hua Cheng finished for him. His Highness nodded.

“I had to… end his life… so he couldn’t tell anyone… but…” His Highness’s gaze grew distant. Hua Cheng squeezed his wrist gently.

“Your Highness? You don’t have to–” 

“Lang Qianqiu caught me,” he said gravely. “I wasn’t… planning… on taking the blame. But he caught me in the act… so...”

“I see.” 

“After that, I killed An Le. Made it seem like… illness.”

Now it all made sense. His original theory had been that for some unknown personal reason, or perhaps to tie up loose ends, An Le was killed by Qi Rong or another one of the royals. He knew an important piece was missing, even back then. As usual, His Highness did everything right and still got into trouble. That was his luck.

Hua Cheng moved on from his hands and began working on his arms. He considered bringing up Qi Rong, the mastermind behind the mastermind, but that would open up a whole other can of worms. He wasn’t sure how His Highness would feel about his cousin being, not only the real villain, but also the infamous Night Touring Green Lantern. He was really going to have to find him and punish him as well.

“Gege, do you hate him?” he dared to ask. His God gaped at him.

“Ah? Who?”

“Lang Qianqiu.” 

His Highness was thoughtful.

“At times… while I was in there… I would become angry… but… no. I don’t hate him.” His fists clenched tightly in his lap. “I… it was my fault. I let him… I let him “kill” me… let him believe I was dead. There is no one to blame… but myself.”

“You did not deserve what happened to you,” Hua Cheng uttered. That cold rage on his behalf was always simmering just below the surface. 

“Maybe not. But life does not… owe me… fairness.”

The sourness on Hua Cheng’s face must have shone, because suddenly he could feel his arm gripped by the hand of the arm he was working on. He looked over and was awestruck by the serenity on his God’s face.

“It’s okay, San Lang. All that… is in the past now.”

“But, gege–”

“My people are safe. The royal family… was avenged… and Lang Qianqiu could move on. Now… finally… I’m free. What else is left?” 

Hua Cheng huffed, unable to control his frustration. His God shook his head, amused at his sulking. Hua Cheng could not meet those honey-brown eyes again. He could say nothing as he swapped to the other arm. 

He figured his God would be against taking revenge on Lang Qianqiu, but now he knew it for certain. He didn’t think this confirmation would make it worse, but it did, somehow.

“San Lang… would you tell me… Is Lang Qianqiu still alive?” he asked. 

“…Yes, Your Highness,” he replied simply. His Highness hummed happily at that, which made Hua Cheng’s stomach churn.

“Was he a good king? I mean… did he… take care of our people?”

Well, technically, it was his cousin who took the throne, but he had been fair enough.

“Our people are well,” he said. 

Your people. I don’t give a damn about them, he thought. They abandoned you.

“That’s good.” His Highness breathed, then, in a very small voice he said, “Then… it… was not all in vain.” Hua Cheng’s hands went still. 

This was like some kind of torture. It would never be okay. It would never be a good thing that he went through such a thing. Not for any reason. There was no justification.

“I think that’s enough “exercise” for today,” he said, letting go of his arm. “How do you feel, Your Highness?” 

His Highness gave him a curious look, but managed to flex all his fingers simultaneously a few times and grinned.

“I don’t know… kind of… tingly. I think… I will be sore though.” Hua Cheng nodded.

“That part is unavoidable, I’m afraid, but I can help you recover faster.”

“Oh? Spiritual energy?” he asked. Hua Cheng gave him a crooked grin. He had just the thing.

“In a way.” 

He waved his hand and abruptly all those silver butterflies floating above descended. His Highness was shocked at first, almost fearful, but as he was covered by the little glowing creatures, the worry on his face melted, replaced with absolute delight.

His Highness laughed. It was a full, unhindered, genuine laugh, unlike any Hua Cheng had heard since he had brought him home. Perhaps the first real laugh from him he had ever heard. 

What a beautiful sound…

He rested a hand on his chin to conceal his own smile as he watched. His earlier shroud of guilt and anger had become unsustainable with such a sight in front of him. 

“Are they healing my muscles?” His Highness finally asked.

“A little bit. They are better with cuts or burns, but they should be able to ease the worst of your discomfort.” His Highness marveled as they walked along his fingers and arms, others were lining his legs, even under the blankets. He twitched occasionally, as if he was ticklish. 

“Well… if this is how we end every… ‘exercise’ session… at least I have something… to look forward to,” he said with another laugh.

“I’m glad gege likes them,” he said. 

“They really are useful, aren’t they?”

Hua Cheng leaned forward, happy to talk about them. 

“They have uses beyond light and healing as well. They can also be very sharp, so I can use them in large numbers to fight. They can make silk traps. I can also see through them, if I need an inconspicuous spy.” His Highness paled at that, his expression dropping. 

Hua Cheng realized that might make it sound like he was always watching him. Well, there was some truth to that, but His Highness needn’t know.

“But I don’t use them like that unless I have good reason to. If You Highness is uncomfortable having them hover above, I can remove them.”

“Oh…  no, that’s… okay. I like having them there… and…” Some color bloomed in his face as he trailed off.

“Gege?”

“Is it… would it be weird to say… it's comforting? To know… you could… check in anytime?” 

He was red all the way to the tips of his ears. Hua Cheng was surprised. He thought it would feel like an invasion of his privacy. He felt his heart thump hard unexpectedly, as if, for just a moment, he was alive again.

“I’m honored that you feel that way,” he said gently. “I’m glad you feel like you can trust me.” His Highness’s expression softened.

“I trust you. I may still be getting to know you… but… I sense only goodwill… and so does Ruoye. I have good… instincts… about this sort of thing.” His Highness beamed at him and he thought he might be sundered by it.

“Gege…” 

Without thinking he reached over and placed his hand firmly on his God’s shoulder. 

“I promise, I only mean you well. I hope you understand that it is my pleasure, having you here. I want nothing more than to help you get back on your feet.” 

His Highness looked startled, and he worried that he had been too much. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by being too familiar, he only wanted his God to understand he could rely on him.

“San Lang… you really… are too kind.” His Highness closed his eyes and smiled. “For once… luck is actually on my side. I am so glad… it was you… who found me.” Hua Cheng felt a pang in his chest, very different from the last one. 

Yeah, about seventy years too late.

He softly pulled his hand back, preparing to draw back from his position on the bed. 

“Hey, San Lang?” his God piped up nervously. He paused, and glanced back over. “I have… a favor to ask.”

“Anything, gege,” he said. His Highness smiled awkwardly.

“I was wondering… could you- I just- I really want to see… out the window? Just for a moment!” 

The words tumbled out of his mouth surprisingly quickly. Hua Cheng couldn’t help but laugh. His Highness, his 600 year old God Almighty, had no business being so adorable. 

Without another word he had swept His Highness up from the bed, which elicited a small cry of surprise followed by an embarrassed laugh. Instead of taking him to the window, however, Hua Cheng headed for the door to the balcony. He pushed it open with one foot and stepped outside into the crimson twilight.

Hua Cheng watched His Highness’s face curiously as they approached the banister and were treated with the best view in all of Ghost City.

The city sprawled below, vast and loud and colorful, lit red by countless lanterns. The distant streets were utter chaos, winding every which way, lined foot by foot with various stalls and carts. All manner of folks stalked the streets, large and small, ghosts and demons and a few very brave mortals. Out here, one could hear the distant shouts, screams, laughs, music, and singing from the restless dead below. 

Hua Cheng reveled, as he usually did, at the feeling of holding his God in his own arms, just in the same way his God had once held him. His Highness was completely mesmerized—pupils wide, jaw slack. It was a vision of pure wonder. Hua Cheng felt a rush of love.

His God didn’t say anything, he just let his eyes take in the most magnificent sight they had beheld in decades.

The view from this balcony was, literally, breathtaking. 

Eventually, Xie Lian remembered to breathe again when his chest tightened in warning. It was so overwhelming to all his senses after the sameness of the coffin and San Lang’s bedroom. Various smells, both good and bad, wafted up, but he was elated to be able to breathe in proper fresh air. His eyes hardly knew where to look next when there was so much to see.

“Ghost City is something else, huh gege?” He heard a deep voice near his ear and his heart nearly stopped. 

He had all but forgotten he was being carried by San Lang. This was not a new experience, but usually he only carried him from place to place. Just standing here like this... he suddenly felt very heavy. He didn’t dare glance up at San Lang’s face but a thought came to him—

It’s actually very nice to just be held. 

He winced slightly. Why was he like this all of the sudden? 

“It's incredible,” he managed to spit out, tucking that stray thought away. “We’re so high up! This has to be… the highest point in the whole city!” 

San Lang chuckled, and in a voice that did not conceal his pride, he said “You are correct. You will not find a better view.”

“San Lang… how on earth… can you own such an expensive place…  by running a- a gambling den?!” 

He finally had to peek up at his face, perilously close as it was. That one eye was full of mirth and then it narrowed into that same deviousness he had only seen flashes of. It made his stomach do some wild flips from such an intimate distance. 

“I have only been partially honest with you, pray forgive me. I do own the gambler’s den here, but I also own and rule this entire city.” 

Xie Lian was shocked into silence. He owned this city?! After a moment he found his voice. 

“You’re Hua Cheng,” he said faintly. Part of him actually had wondered on the day he first spoke of Hua Cheng if that might be the case. 

“That’s right. I actually built this city over several centuries,” he continued. “I wanted ghosts to have their own domain. A place to call home where they could be away from mortals.” 

Xie Lian could always tell that “San Lang” was someone of importance, but he had no idea how industrious. He truly was a generous soul to provide all this structure. He certainly didn’t seem like a monster. Xie Lian had no doubt that, if he had not died young and if he had cultivated, he was the type of person who could have ascended to godhood. 

It then dawned on him, a bit belatedly, that if this was his true form, Hua Cheng did die young. He suddenly felt mournful. He dared not ask him how he died, especially considering where he was from.

“You really… are a powerful ghost, aren’t you?” he stated, focused on the metropolis this man had built piece by piece. It was hard to imagine that a single ghost did all this. He could see Hua Cheng smile in his periphery. 

“Have you ever heard of a Ghost King?” he asked. Xie Lian shook his head but eyed him inquisitively. “Also known as a Supreme or a Devastation?” he tried.

“I apologize, I have not dealt with… the realms of ghosts nor gods… not since I lost my… station. My knowledge is limited.” He felt Hua Cheng's arms squeeze him just slightly.

“That’s okay, please don’t apologize. It’s the only level higher than a Wrath. There are only three of us... Well, now there are only two of us.” 

Xie Lian was floored. 

There is a level higher than wrath now? 

Xie Lian was suddenly very, very small in his arms—not heavy at all. This certainly explained the ever-present aura of danger. There was a rather arrogant look spread upon Hua Cheng’s face, and he knew now this man feared no one, not even the Heavenly Emperor. Xie Lian shivered in spite of himself. The ghost must have noticed it, because his grip on him loosened slightly.

“Ah, Gege need not worry. You are well within my good graces.” He said as he laughed. Xie Lian’s stomach did another flip. It was like those silver butterflies were knocking around in there. He couldn't help but let out a jittery laugh as well.

“So… should I call you Hua Cheng then?”

“I prefer you to call me San Lang,” he said easily. Xie Lian smiled, glad this didn’t have to change. He liked the name San Lang.

The ghost took a deep, unnecessary breath. 

“I hate to have to bring this up now...but I do think it's finally time gege had a bath.” 

Xie Lian immediately started to sweat, which was the last thing he needed at this moment. This was something he knew was coming soon—he really did need it—but he hadn’t wanted to think about it. Hua Cheng had been changing his robes and occasionally wiping him down with a damp cloth, but at this point it wasn’t really enough. He’d been lounging in Hua Cheng’s bed for a week now. 

“Ah… right… r-right now?”

“Unless gege feels he is too tired?” he asked, with the raise of an eyebrow.

Xie Lian struggled for a moment, tempted to keep putting this off if he was able. Ultimately, he sighed in defeat and accepted his fate. He did prefer to feel clean.

“No… let's just… get it over with.”

“You’ll have to sit up for a bit. You’re sure you feel up to it?”

Xie Lian had been practicing sitting upright in the bed for the last couple days. He knew he could, so he nodded.

“I’ll have Yin Yu heat the water then,” Hua Cheng said, all business, as he turned to carry Xie Lian back inside. Xie Lian was sad to watch the city disappear from view, not that the bedroom wasn’t lovely and all. 

Because Hua Cheng had changed Xie Lian’s robes daily up till this point, it wasn’t like he had never been bare in front of him. It was also just never easy. His unmentionable regions aside, his current body was a horrific thing for anyone to behold.

The Supreme Ghost King, that he apparently now was, never seemed the least bit repelled by his appearance. He always had encouraging words to say, like ‘this is temporary’ and ‘soon you will be back to normal’. Though he knew it was the truth, and he always tried to smile back, it did little to actually lift his spirits. Xie Lian knew it would take months. Though an immortal, his body was still painfully human. 

They entered the steamy, personal bathing room of the ghost king, just one door down the hall from his bedroom. There was a cushioned bench on one side of a silk screen, which he sat him on.

“May I?” Hua Cheng asked.

He always asked. Though they both always knew it needed to be done, he always asked, and Xie Lian appreciated it. He felt less like an absurdly large doll. He nodded, feeling numb from head to toe. 

The man was quick as he always was when undressing him, never letting his eyes linger for long on any one place. This bath would not be quick, which is why Xie Lian was dreading it. He saw Hua Cheng's eye pause only at his neck, and narrow ever so slightly. Xie Lian could tell he found the cursed shackle an eyesore, but he never brought it up. This well-read person most definitely knew what it was. Xie Lian could spot the flashes of anger when that eye settled on it and knew that it was on his behalf. That was a rare thing, and it warmed his heart to have someone on his side, even if Hua Cheng was wrong to be offended for him. Xie Lian couldn't bring himself to mention he had actually asked Jun Wu for it.

He had no doubt that he deserved it, but for some reason, he didn't want to admit this here and now. Not to Hua Cheng.

Hua Cheng finished removing Xie Lian's robes, trying as he always did not to make him feel too uncomfortable. It couldn’t be helped though, because Xie Lian couldn’t stand to see himself, let alone for anyone else to see him. Hua Cheng removed his own silver vambraces and then moved to place his arms around him. He paused, waiting for Xie Lian to give him a sign that it was okay. He nodded, and the ghost carefully lifted and carried him around the screen. Xie Lian felt nothing but the usual awkward misery— at least until he saw the spacious wooden tub full of steaming water. It smelled lovely and floral.

"Please, tell me if it's too hot, gege." Hua Cheng said seriously as he very slowly lowered him into the bath.

It was almost too hot. Almost.

Oh. This is very nice.

In all his anxiety over being washed by Hua Cheng, he had forgotten how lovely a bath actually was. He closed his eyes and sighed as his whole body relaxed into it. Why did he care so much about being washed anyhow? It's not like servants hadn’t washed him all the time growing up. What made Hua Cheng any different?

He is different, and he’s certainly not a servant who does this for payment! He argued with himself. 

Either way, why should it matter? He’s already seen everything! Many times!

But it did matter. He couldn't wrap his head around why, but it mattered. He didn’t like being seen by him like this, not in this horrid state.

Would it be okay for him to see me like this if I was in my prime? He then had to ask himself. 

He was glad his face was already rosy from the steam of the bath.

Probably not.

It made no sense. He had bathed many times around other men in his training days. It never occurred to him to care.

“Gege, is it alright if I start?” Hua Cheng interrupted his internal dispute. Xie Lian kept his eyes closed and nodded. 

As it turned out, it wasn’t as awkward as he had been expecting.

After so many years languishing in filth, a bath was hard not to enjoy. He had been bathed after leaving the coffin, but he hadn't been awake to relish it. Hua Cheng was exceedingly gentle, and thankfully, much of his body was obscured by the cloudiness of the hot water. His stomach continued to do the occasional flip and flutter as he felt the man’s hands on him, but he tried his best to stay calm and keep his mind away from anything inappropriate. 

He kept his eyes closed for most of it and tried to imagine it was an old servant from Xianle tending to him. The problem was that he knew these hands very well by now. There was a kind of reverence in the way he handled Xie Lian that was hard to explain. Though his servants, and even Mu Qing, had always handled him courteously in his youth, it wasn't the same thing as this. Reverent. His touch was tender, like he feared Xie Lian would break in his hands. Well, he was a supreme level ghost, so maybe that would be true if he weren’t cautious.

Hua Cheng didn’t say a whole lot for most of the bath, other than warning him about where those hands were going next. He remained considerate in all his actions, but he was exceedingly thorough.

Getting his hair washed at the end was, by far, the best part of this whole experience. He had secretly savored it every time Hua Cheng combed it for him over the past week, but getting his head scrubbed was even better. Everything this man did, he did expertly. Despite being submerged in hot water, Xie Lian felt himself break out in goosebumps at the sensation of Hua Cheng's nails gliding gently across his scalp. He worried he might start purring like a cat. 

He heard Hua Cheng repress a small chuckle and he knew he was making some kind of face. He heard the ghost open his mouth to say something, but he must have thought better of it. 

Though he felt a twinge of embarrassment, he knew Hua Cheng wasn't mocking him. He was continuously amazed by Hua Cheng’s unrelenting chivalry, so even if he did tease him, Xie Lian was confident that there was no disrespect. Though it was at times humiliating, Xie Lian had to admit that he actually liked being in his care most of the time. Perhaps it was because he had been alone, so entirely forgotten, for so long. He wasn’t likely to meet another person who would treat him like this again.

He should just tuck away his pride, be thankful, and enjoy this. 

The bath was over much quicker than he had expected, and he was surprised that he was dismayed that it was. He opened his eyes only as he was set back on the bench—just in time to get a glimpse of the ghost's arms with the sleeves rolled up. He was fairly certain he saw a large tattoo on one forearm before the red sleeves fell back down and concealed it. Part of him regretted keeping his eyes closed the whole time.

Xie Lian was relieved to be clothed once more, with his unsightliness hidden away as it should be. Once he was cooled off and back in bed, he was slightly ashamed at where his head-space had been the past few hours. He needed to get it together before he misspoke and offended his new benefactor.

The next couple of weeks passed by swiftly and, for the most part, routinely. Xie Lian’s diet was upgraded to plain congee. It was a hell of a wake-up call to his digestive system. Those first few days were… unpleasant, to say the least. After all that begging for solid food, now his body could only complain about it. He also started drinking tea, and that, on the other hand, was a glorious thing.

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng continued their exercise regimen, and every day he was more and more in control of his own limbs. It took time and repetition, but he had finally grown comfortable in Hua Cheng’s hands. He stopped fearing the man’s judgment and believing he was just hiding his revulsion. The trust which he had chosen was slowly being earned. While he had been flustered by Hua Cheng’s dangerous beauty in the beginning, he soon grew used to him and no longer wilted under his discerning gaze.

Xie Lian could maneuver his hands well enough now and hold things, even if lifting his arms was still a great effort. He spent much of his time in bed trying to move his feet around, wiggle his toes, and twist himself at the waist to build up both muscle and coordination. 

Hua Cheng had to constantly chide him to take it slow, but now that there was life sparking within him, he was determined to make actual progress. By the end of the second week, he was able to raise his own cup of tea to his lips. Hua Cheng had to reach out and help him keep it steady, but it was his first real victory. 

By now Xie Lian was staying awake for most of the day, though he often needed a mid-afternoon nap. He and Hua Cheng talked endlessly and he got a much better idea of who he had been saved by.

Hua Cheng was extremely willful and absolute in his thoughts and opinions—proud, at times downright pompous. Xie Lian could tell he had earned that, however. He greatly enjoyed listening to the ghost rant or ramble on about this and that, and he was overjoyed to have someone who was willing to listen to him in return. It had been such a long time since he felt comfortable enough to really talk about himself and his past to someone, and the ghost was a good listener. Perhaps because they came from the same kingdom, the two of them got along very well, and it already felt like they had known each other for years. The ghost’s mischievous side showed itself now and again, at times teasing. This was always sure to make Xie Lian’s confused heart jump around. He thought the ghost could tell too, but maybe he was just being paranoid.

Though he had come to feel very welcome here, there was one thing that gnawed at him. He still did not understand what it was this incredible person saw in him. Why had he made it his mission to care personally for him? For weeks now, the Lord of Ghost City had tended to him day in and day out. He tried not to think about it if he could help it, but at least once a day those thoughts crept up on him. Everything he did for him seemed so sincere, but why? 

Who was he really?

Hua Cheng could not be seeing the real him; he clearly did not understand that Xie Lian was a fool and a failure. Had he not read that Xie Lian was the “Laughingstock of the Three Realms” in that big library of his? It was like, at some point, probably in his mortal life, Hua Cheng had seen him up on a tall pedestal, but somehow never noticed that he fell from it long ago. He didn’t want Hua Cheng to hold a misconstrued view of him. He'd been here less than a month, and he feared, with time, the illusion would shatter and he’d be abandoned yet again. It was a terrifying thought, but it wasn’t like the ghost owed him anything. Feng Xin and Mu Qing hadn’t either. He really shouldn’t let himself grow so attached. Soon he’d be out in the world on his own again, after all. 

One afternoon, after letting these worrisome thoughts build for most of the day, he impulsively addressed them. Hua Cheng had just finished helping him with his cup of tea, post nap. He was feeling entirely too pampered. As Hua Cheng stood to take the tea tray away, he spoke up.

“You know, you treat me far better than I deserve.” He said, almost too quietly to hear.

He instantly lamented his choice in words—didn’t he sound ungrateful or even like he was fishing for something?

“Not true,” Hua Cheng said resolutely. “What makes you think I treat you too well?”

“You spend far too much of your time on me,” he insisted. Hua Cheng gave him a challenging stare. Before he could interrupt, Xie Lian continued, “I appreciate it, I do, but I also can't help but feel that you think very highly of me… and I don’t really understand why. It feels like I’ve misled you somehow.” 

“How does gege think I should treat him then?” he asked, hands clasped behind his back. Xie Lian didn’t have a concrete answer to give.

“Surely not this well. Not by a former citizen of Xianle… I failed you. Don’t you realize that?”

Xie Lian could feel his throat tighten as he admitted to his shortcomings. He really didn’t want Hua Cheng to dislike him, but he also needed to know that the ghost knew who he was really dealing with. Hua Cheng thought for a beat, his expression unusually hard, then he sat down on the side of his bed.

“His Highness did the best that he was able, under the circumstances. I don’t personally care that Xianle fell, so don’t worry about it,” he said. 

 Xie Lian felt a deep pain in his heart, at the core of his being. He wouldn’t just let it drop like that. 

“San Lang… you don’t know… ” he trailed off. 

For just a moment, he actually considered telling him what he’d almost become. Just getting it off his chest. But he couldn’t do it. He could not bear for this person to know about that, not when they’d just become friends. 

“I’m really… not so good a person,” he finished, rather lamely.

Hua Cheng did not seem deterred by his words. As he looked at this ghost, he had a flash of another ghost who had once held him with the same seemingly unconditional veneration. Undeserved. He could nearly see that smiling mask on Hua Cheng’s face, and it made him nauseous. 

Hua Cheng drew closer, pulling a knee up on the bed, and gave him a very measured stare, that dark eye gleaming with an emotion Xie Lian could not quite identify.

“You are a good person, gege. You are the only God I’ve ever seen who actually cared about his believers. You threw away your place in heaven to try and save us. What other god would ever have dared such a thing?” he said softly.

Hua Cheng reached over and took both of his knobby hands within his own. They were much larger, and unusually warm for a change. Xie Lian had no idea what to say or do—it was such an intimate gesture all of the sudden.

“Your Highness, as far as I’m concerned, you are the only one who should even be able to call yourself a “God.” If you weren’t able to stop the war, or the plague, all that means is that it was impossible.”

Anger then flashed briefly across his face, cold and deadly. 

“You didn’t deserve to be treated the way you were. All those people forgot how hard you tried, what you sacrificed. But I didn’t forget, and that’s why I am happy to help you now. Now that I can.” 

He lightly rubbed his thumbs over the tops of Xie Lian’s hands. There was such conviction in his words that a lump in Xie Lian’s throat kept him from responding properly. 

“I was your believer till the day I died. To be perfectly honest, I still am, whether you’re still a God or not,” he almost whispered.

It was absurd, but Xie Lian could tell he meant it. Everything he’d done for him up until now proved it. The steely look in his eye proved it.

No one had ever spoken to him like this before, as if he had done anything good in his time as a god. He had only ever been told that he was incompetent, a plague god, destroyer of his kingdom, murderer of his people. Right now, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Warmth filled his chest, chasing away all his fears from earlier. It was like someone reaching out to a drowning man — a hand he could not refuse to take, though every instinct told him he should. Undeserved. Finally, after a long moment, when he no longer feared he'd start to weep, Xie Lian managed to speak again.

“I never would have imagined that I still had a believer out in the world,” he said, his voice rough. “I thought…” He shook his head. Hua Cheng smiled.

“My God is far too hard on himself,” he said, giving his hands a light squeeze.

Xie Lian thought of the last time the ghost had held his hand like this, when he'd realized he was finally out of the coffin. Hua Cheng was so good to him, it was still hard to believe he was real. Xie Lian thought of White No-Face’s words. About how Wu Ming had been his very last believer and he had destroyed him. Obviously that had been a lie if Hua Cheng was still around. Why on earth had he ever believed his worst enemy? Xie Lian managed to return his smile after a moment.

“I really have done nothing to warrant having such an enduring believer, but I am grateful for you.” 

“Maybe to you it was nothing, a simple kindness, but to me it was everything,” Hua Cheng said evenly. 

Xie Lian waited with curiosity, expecting him to finally tell him how they knew each other. Instead, the ghost smiled and gently released his hands.

Hua Cheng then pulled himself away, up off the bed, to Xie Lian’s great disappointment.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng was pacing the balcony again. 

He had begun doing this to think while his Highness was sleeping, keeping an eye on him through a butterfly, of course. Right now he was feeling frustrated and surprisingly indecisive.

After the conversations about Lang Qianqiu, Hua Cheng had been forced to reconsider his plans for retribution. 

He hadn’t stopped either Black Water or Yin Yu from their information gathering these past weeks, and in fact he’d given them even more homework. In his heart, however, he was beginning to think this was not the best choice. Whenever either of them chimed in with an update, an unpleasant rush of guilt swept through him. It wasn’t easy, working so diligently behind his God’s back as he was. It wasn’t something he ever even considered himself capable of before.

His Highness had been with him for three weeks, and was now able to bring a teacup to his lips all on his own. He had shook so badly he was spilling it, but it felt like a milestone. He was moving steadily forward with his usual grace and determination, and yet Hua Cheng was still struggling behind him, stuck in the past. 

He was tethered to his rage. 

The fact of the matter was that his God had suffered, and someone had to be punished for that. Of course that someone had to be Lang Qianqiu, but His Highness obviously still held him in high regard—and that complicated things. This would be so much easier if His Highness just hated him too.

He paused in his pacing, his eye landing on Qiandeng Temple far in the distance. It loomed above all the rest of Ghost City, even the Gambler’s Den, its hundreds of lanterns burning pure and white, stark against the red city. His homage to his God, a perfect place to worship him. The sight of it tugged at something within him, as if trying to guide him to the right path, somewhere higher, up out of this sea of blood he swam in. 

Perhaps he was seeing all of this the wrong way.

Perhaps he should be targeting Qi Rong, since he was the one who started that whole mess in Yong’an. 

He continued pacing. The problem was that he very much doubted that foul creature even capable of remorse. He certainly wouldn’t regret causing his cousin pain. In fact, revealing that His Highness had been the State Preceptor would probably make that ghoul howl with laughter. 

Even if he was ultimately to blame, the Green Ghost hadn’t been the one to put Him in the coffin, so punishing him just wasn’t as appealing. Also, he’d been trying to kill that little asshole for years, but he had too many clones to count. It would be a far more difficult endeavor to trap the real Qi Rong than to snatch away Lang Qianqiu.

No, that wasn’t the right thing to do either. 

Hua Cheng pinched the bridge of his nose. His eye was pulled back to the Temple of the Crown Prince he had constructed all those years ago. Originally it had been down the road from the small Ghost Town he founded, but then, over time, the city swelled up around it and even extended beyond. No one but him knew it was a sacred place of worship.

Hua Cheng had brazenly admitted to being His Highness’s believer just hours ago. Today his God had told him he trusted him.

This plan of his was incredibly sacrilegious, wasn’t it? 

He may be a devoted believer, but was he really a good one? Was this not something that would go precisely against his God’s beliefs? Was the Flower Crowned Martial God not known for his compassion and his mercy? A body in the abyss, but a heart forever in paradise? He was utterly torn between what he wanted and what his God wanted.

My own wants should not matter.  

Hua Cheng heaved a disgruntled sigh and leaned far over the banister, looking straight down. For some reason, there was a moment where he felt like he had as a child. A voice in his head telling him to jump. It was absurd, of course. Falling even from this height would not be enough to disperse him. It might hurt, though. Maybe he wanted that. He pulled himself back. 

This is a mistake.

Hua Cheng made up his mind then. Perhaps, just this once, vengeance would not be his. Perhaps it wasn’t worth all this torment.

That was what he thought as he walked in from the balcony that night. 

He settled into his chair, glancing through the red curtains where his Beloved God lay sleeping. There was a deep wintery chill to the air tonight, so he made sure His Highness wasn’t shivering under his covers. He added another light blanket for good measure.

In the early hours of the morning, Hua Cheng was startled from his book by a deep gasp coming from the bed. 

He jumped up and pulled the curtain aside to find his God having some kind of fit. His eyes were still closed, but his breathing was turning harsh, a fine mist of sweat upon his face. He looked as pale as a ghost, and the sides of his face were shining wet with tears. His thin hands clutched at the front of his robes, over his heart.

Hua Cheng reached over, not sure if it was actually best to wake him or not. His hand hovered above for a moment, before he cautiously pulled His Highness’s hands away from his chest. He could see scratch marks there. His Highness was mumbling something. 

A few words were clear.

“Help me…” he whimpered. 

He is asleep, right?!

“Your Highness,” he said, gently shaking the balled up fists he was holding. “Tell me how to help.”

“I can’t anymore,” his God sobbed. He continued muttering and whispering brokenly, fresh tears still rolling down his cheeks. He was definitely asleep.

“Your Highness!” he nearly shouted, giving his God one firm shake, hoping to jerk him out of this. 

His Highness’s eyes flew open, and he inhaled deeply. His fists suddenly clutched back at Hua Cheng’s hands with surprising force and he looked up at him, eyes bulging, breath held. 

“It’s okay, gege, I’m right here!” 

His Highness’s eyes remained wide and confused, like he couldn’t understand what he was seeing, but he took one stuttering breath, and then another. Hua Cheng watched the realization and recognition spill into his expression. 

“San-” His throat caught and he sobbed openly in both relief and despair. Acting on pure instinct, Hua Cheng pulled his God up into a tight embrace. Tighter than he should have, probably.

His Highness’s hands curled into the folds of his red robes as he fought to get his raw emotions under control. Hua Cheng didn’t even know what things he was murmuring in His ear, didn’t register that he was stroking the back of his head. All he could feel was his God’s anguish and terror, and it was unbearable. 

His Highness hadn’t had a nightmare like this since he dreamed of punching his way out of the coffin. They had both hoped those were done and over with.

His Highness never spoke of being trapped in that marble casket, but Hua Cheng still felt him tense up during their short walks in the much darker hallway to the bathroom. He still noticed how his god couldn’t seem to stand sitting in pure silence for very long. He hated to sleep on his back—in fact, most of the time he absolutely hated that he had to sleep at all.

Clearly, he was still being plagued with nightmares. Hua Cheng wondered how many more he’d had but not bothered mentioning. All he could think now was that he had to put a stop to it, to make the pain go away somehow. His Highness may be out of the coffin, but he was not truly free of it yet. 

Hua Cheng remembered why he had made those plans for Lang Qianqiu. He felt that rage boil in his blood once more.

He couldn’t just forget about it. What had he even been thinking?! Just let him go? His Highness always put on a brave face, but being in that coffin would likely take him years to come to terms with. 

No, no. Lang Qianqiu has to pay for this.

The guilt and indecision over his plans suddenly vanished. While he had a complicated relationship with “fate”, His Highness having this nightmare right now felt very much like a sign—a sign he was straying from the correct course of action. A reminder. Hua Cheng hardened his heart and his resolve. 

There was no way Lang Qianqiu could be allowed to utterly devastate his Beloved in this way and then skip off happily into the sunset, adulated by the same gods who had banished him.

No fucking way. How could I become so complacent?

He heard his God’s breathing even out, and felt him slowly relax in his arms. He didn’t especially want to, but Hua Cheng had no choice but to finally pull himself away. 

He hoped he had not acted indecently, but His Highness seemed rather appreciative. He didn’t even look bashful when Hua Cheng mopped up his face. Hua Cheng pulled him upright against his pillows and poured him some hot tea. His Highness didn’t seem keen on talking about the nightmare, but he didn’t need to either. Hua Cheng could guess what it was about. 

As his God sat there, morosely staring at the teacup he was nursing, Ruoye crept out of his sleeve and began brushing itself against his hands, as if it was petting him. A faint smile reached his God’s lips. It dawned on Hua Cheng that his God hadn’t been completely alone in that coffin. He felt some affection for the little demon, though he’d always been a bit wary about where it might have come from. It was probably the only real friend His Highness had over these past centuries. 

This was nothing like the relationship he had with his own spiritual weapon. While his sabre was useful and deadly, Hua Cheng was not all that fond of its usual temperament. It was too childish, too emotional. He would say they were more like regretful partners than they were friends.

As if the mere thought of it was an invitation, there was a sharp twang of metal, and suddenly the scimitar swooped into the room. At first, it was focused on Hua Cheng and perhaps his subconscious bid for connection, but the moment its gaze flickered over to His Highness, its own master was promptly forgotten. 

In a silver flash, it had cut through the canopy of the bed, and came to hover right in front of His Highness. The big bright red eye in its hilt was locked onto his God, pupils dilated, like an excited child. His Highness gawked at it. Ruoye, on the other hand, had pulled fully out of the sleeve and circled him protectively. 

Hua Cheng knew this would happen. There was a reason he’d kept it locked up out of sight. It was too impulsive.

“What are you doing here?!” Hua Cheng growled, grabbing it roughly by the handle and yanking it away.

“San Lang, what is that?” asked His Highness, eyes shining brightly with interest. Hua Cheng sighed. 

“My spiritual weapon. It's known by others as The Deadly Scimitar, E-ming. It's a worthless thing though. Gege need not mind it.” 

The sword flinched slightly at the insult but otherwise paid him no mind. It was still gently trying to pull away from him, trying to get closer to His Highness.

“Cut that out, you’re going to make him uncomfortable.” 

He smacked the hilt in an effort to get it to behave. It rattled miserably in his hand, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, don’t hit it San Lang! What does it want?”

“It’s decided it likes you, gege. It probably wants you to pet it or something. Reprehensible.”

“I mean… don’t mind petting it…” he said softly, “I’ve never given pets to a weapon before.” 

His Highness gave him a pleasant, pleading smile—the kind Hua Cheng was completely helpless against. This man had no idea the power he wielded. Hua Cheng would raze entire civilizations for that smile. Ruoye didn’t seem to like this idea one bit, but Hua Cheng had no choice but to oblige. His Highness had just come out of a pretty bad nightmare and could probably use the cheering up. 

“Very well. But you! Behave. This is royalty, you hear? Don’t embarrass me.” 

He gave the blade another swat and let it go. It excitedly swooped over to His Highness, practically pushing itself under his hand. Xie Lian chucked and began petting its hilt, just behind the eye. That eye squinted in pleasure, ringing out with happiness from His Highness’s lap. 

I can’t believe this pathetic thing really came from me, he thought bitterly.

Hua Cheng crossed his arms, feeling aggravated, though he wasn’t sure why. Ruoye seemed similarly bent out of shape, hovering here and there, restless but unable to do anything about it. His Highness ignored them both and continued to pet the sword gently. It seemed to help calm His Highness down a bit further, and he finally relaxed into his pillow all the way.

After a few minutes of this, the blade also settled down properly, its eye closed, and Hua Cheng retrieved it. His Highness looked to be in better spirits, so all was well. 

“San Lang shouldn’t be so hard on his own weapon,” His Highness said reproachfully. Hua Cheng just shrugged.

“Trust me. You give this thing an inch…” He shook his head and sheathed it at his waist.

Understandably, His Highness was not interested in going back to sleep now. Hua Cheng suggested he read to him instead. He nodded and settled back down against the pillow. His Highness made a strong effort to stay awake and pay attention to the story, but it didn’t take long before sleep found him anyway. 

Though he had appeared calm while he reassured his God, Hua Cheng remained livid on the inside. He could still feel his God shaking in his arms. He could still feel the dampness from his tears on his collar.

He watched him sleep, tense with worry, as if expecting at any second he would be gripped by another nightmare. His God, his Beloved, his Everything was still enduring the weight of what had happened to him, and there was nothing Hua Cheng could do to help. There was no protecting him from his own nightmares. 

I need to be able to do something.

He felt like Wu Ming again, unsure of what he could possibly do or say to ease his God’s troubled heart. This was twice now that his God had endured a fate far worse than death and had to find a way to live with the memories of it. 

Desperate to get out of this thought spiral, Hua Cheng contacted Yin Yu for an update. 

As it turns out, Hua Cheng wasn’t the first person to look for his own way to craft a divine shackle or something with the same function. 

The problem was that all the accounts of similar research seemed to end in failure or, in a few cases, outright disaster. There was a reason such a thing was solidly in the purview of not just heaven, but the Heavenly Emperor himself. One thing that Yin Yu seemed certain of was that, whatever they managed to make, it would only be temporary. 

It was time for Hua Cheng to do some of the research himself. 

Over the next few days, His Highness maintained a  solid sleeping pattern and he didn’t appear to have any more nightmares, at least none so intense. Though Hua Cheng continued to keep an eye on him through the butterflies, he finally started leaving the immediate area to spend time in the library. It was time to get things into order. 

During his research, Hua Cheng received a final update from He Xuan and then gave him a new job looking into all of General Tai Hua’s junior martial deputies. He would need to find someone who was especially ambitious and unlikable. Someone like Mu Qing. He had his plan laid out, and he was confident in it, but it was also good to have back up plans.

According to He Xuan, General Tai Hua did not leave Heaven often, only twice in the past month, but each time he did, it was to fight some kind of demon or wrath too strong for the cultivators in his region to handle. Not surprising, being that he was a martial god, but it was good to know for certain. Many gods were lazy and most would rather send a couple deputies to handle such a matter. Luring him would be stupidly easy—it's not like martial gods expected to be trapped by anyone.

Hua Cheng and Yin Yu poured hours into their research every night after Xie Lian went to sleep. When His Highness was awake, Yin Yu left to track down more information and research materials. Thankfully, Hua Cheng had crafted a rather large information and trading network over the centuries. Something was bound to come up. If not, he’d work on a spell from scratch, even if it took months.

It took the better part of two weeks, but they got their hands on just the research they needed. A starting point, anyhow.

Originally from the restricted heavenly archive of Ling Wen, it had mysteriously made its way down to the mortal world and into the hands of a rogue cultivator who collected especially rare or dangerous spells. Contained within, among other malicious spells, was a cursed array that could seal spiritual energy. It needed some minor adjustments to be successful, but it was nothing Hua Cheng couldn’t figure out and perfect.

No one really knew how the Divine Emperor made his shackles. He was supposed to be the only one who knew how, and the only one with enough spiritual power to pull it off. Hua Cheng felt confident his own power would be plenty. The array they had found was not the exact spell he used, for proper shackles could do many things, but it was as close as one would probably get. In a similar fashion, they’d be cursing an object and then binding that to someone. It was really not unlike a talisman.

The most difficult part of creating the item they needed was that it would have to be very sturdy in the spiritual sense. Only a god’s body was infallible enough to hold such a curse indefinitely. This item needed to, at the very least, have a divine source in order to function for an extended period. The book suggested using a phylactery with a god’s blood or an item weaved with their hair. An item like that could last anywhere from fifty to a hundred years, depending on how old or powerful that god was. 

Hua Cheng certainly knew of a casket where he could find some powerful blood, but to use his own God’s blood in a curse against someone his God admired was pretty off color, even for Hua Cheng. That said, there was a tree that had grown from His Highness’s blood. That tree could produce a perfect peach-wood dowel. 

Ah, karma.

Was there not a more perfect solution?

Xie Lian was tired. 

Not just sleepy, but a bone deep, full-body-ache level of exhaustion. 

He also felt happy. Triumphant. He had taken a step today. Just the one, which eventually buckled, but a step was a step. He really wasn’t in a state to be walking yet, but he had fussed enough about trying that eventually Hua Cheng had given in and let him attempt it.

He knew he was pushing himself too hard, but he didn’t care. His was a body that could be pushed without consequence, and he was used to doing it. He was just relieved to have reached the point where he could put in some effort himself instead of relying on Hua Cheng to move his limbs around like a ragdoll. 

His arms had made the most progress, but that wasn’t saying much. He could feed himself though, and that was another step towards independence. So was being able to use the bathroom without help, though he did need Hua Cheng for the initial transport. He could pull himself up in the bed now. He could actually sit upright for a while without needing support at this point, too. 

It was the little things in life, right?

He was sitting up now on the edge of the bed, looking down at his legs that were drowning in the fabric of his pants. His bony white feet poked out from under the hem, mocking him—ruining his celebratory mood. Being able to stand for just a few seconds was better than not being able to stand at all, but it was not as long as he would have hoped for either. Hua Cheng told him multiple times that it was a ludicrous thing to expect of himself so early on, but how would he ever get there if he didn’t try? 

His back muscles screamed at him to lay down, but he paid them no mind. This pain would fade, as the butterflies were currently hard at work. They were very nice to have around, but Xie Lian had always been good at dealing with pain anyhow. It was easy to ignore, easy to hide. It had been that way since the Temple. 

Even though he knew he hid it perfectly, Hua Cheng could still tell when he was hurting— like a strange ghostly sixth sense. 

It drove Xie Lian crazy. He really hated to worry the ghost. Something about his worries made the pain more pointed than it should be, harder to ignore. He was being forced to take things much slower than he wanted so he could appease him. It wasn’t ideal, but he would put up with it for this person. Recovery would take longer with all this meticulous caution, but then again, that also meant more time spent with Hua Cheng. He wasn’t going to complain about that.

He had expected that after taking one step, maybe the next day he would take two, and then three. 

This was not the case. 

As it turned out, he was very much stuck at the one step, and sometimes even that still failed. 

Hua Cheng would only let him try about three times before making him give up for the day. Their exercise sessions didn’t last very long and he wore out very fast, limbs so heavy he could barely move afterwards. Once or twice he pushed himself so hard that the ghost had to be the one to feed him after. Hua Cheng had to keep reminding him that he wouldn’t build up any fat if he kept exercising it all away. That was fine with Xie Lian if it meant he could move around again. It always felt like they’d just gotten started, and he was right back in that dreadfully soft bed. 

He wasn’t actually stuck in the bed. Hua Cheng had offered to carry him around the manor and give him the full tour of the premises, but for some reason Xie Lian felt very anxious at the thought. Perhaps it was at the possibility of others seeing him carried around like a new bride. Or maybe it was something else, something tied to his senses or a feeling of safety the bedroom gave him. 

For now, he was actually content to remain here or sit out on the balcony. He had taken to sitting up as much as possible, sometimes even sitting over in Hua Cheng’s chair. Laying down in the bed was dangerous, because he was always threatened with the possibility of falling asleep.

Xie Lian hated sleeping these days. 

He hated dreaming, and he almost always dreamed up something. It wasn’t always bad, but nightmares happened often enough that he started feeling anxious the moment he would realize he was getting tired. He knew he needed sleep to recover, but he always tried to stay awake for as long as he was physically able. 

Thankfully, his whole life wasn’t now just sleeping and exercising. In the rest of his free time, he read books. Lots and lots of books. His time in Yong’an had given him access to a nice library, and it had become one of his favorite pastimes until the Gilded Massacre occurred.

In the beginning, Hua Cheng had read to him, but now he was strong enough to hold books up by himself. It had taken him a little while to remember how to read, but it all came back to him just as speaking had. Sometimes Hua Cheng still read to him instead if he was especially tired though. It was one of the ways Hua Cheng often tricked him into sleeping against his will. 

In that way, books were both a blessing and a curse for Xie Lian now. They had an ability to pull him from his own reality for a while, but they also tended to put him in a dangerously restful state. 

One evening, Xie Lian woke violently from a dream, though he couldn’t remember what of. He could tell by how much he had been sweating, and by his pulse, that it probably hadn’t been a good one. He looked around, bleary, wondering if the ghost had seen him stir suddenly. 

To his surprise, the room was empty. 

It was an eerie feeling, really. Just him and Ruoye again. After thinking about it for a moment though, Xie Lian was relieved. 

Hua Cheng needed to get out of this room and live his life a little bit. Much as he enjoyed the company, round the clock care was hardly necessary now. He was glad Hua Cheng actually could take off and do things while he was asleep. Those first two weeks, he knew that hadn’t been the case. Sleeping for long hours straight had been difficult and he had roused often, glancing through the red curtain to always see the ghost quietly reading in his chair. 

Other than that first time, when he woke up so thirsty, he had never woken up alone again. Not till now. 

Xie Lian wondered where he might be. He got the impression that Hua Cheng had been very distracted the past week or two. He figured he was finally becoming a chore, as he knew he would. The days all passed mostly all the same, and progress was horribly slow. Perhaps Hua Cheng had misjudged how large of a job he had taken on. Xie Lian couldn’t help but feel a little bit forlorn.

It wasn’t that Hua Cheng was acting cold or impolite or anything like that. There was just this distant look in his eye, like he wasn’t present. It made Xie Lian feel alone in the room even when he wasn’t. He knew he was being clingy and probably selfish—he certainly didn’t deserve all of the ghost’s attention. He wasn’t owed his care. If Hua Cheng didn’t want to be here to help him, that was honestly fine . Xie Lian would be sad, but he couldn’t blame him. 

It would be nice if Hua Cheng would just pass him off to his servants or something, so he wouldn’t feel like such a pain. Considering that he had taken off in the night, Xie Lian was probably keeping him from some important work.

He should try to go back to sleep, but his heart was still thumping too wildly. He was wide awake now.  It was odd that he couldn’t remember the dream, but maybe that was for the best. 

His dreams had been exceptionally dark lately. Dreams where he never recovered his strength again. Dreams where Hua Cheng dumped him off on the side of the road to fend for himself. In one dream, an elderly Lang Qianqiu had discovered his escape and had half the Yong’an army chasing after him to stuff him back in the coffin. 

And, of course, every once in a while, he did still dream of being trapped in there again.

Laying here now, it felt like he had forgotten something important. He clawed at his memory for a clue, anything about the nature of the dream. For just a fraction of a second, he remembered what he had heard while coming out of it—an ear-piercing scream. It was familiar. Had it been his own? He couldn’t be sure. Certainly it had come from the dream and not the real world. As he vaguely recalled this, he shuddered. He didn’t want to think about this anymore after all.  

If he had a book in hand, that would be a helpful distraction. He could calm down and get back to sleep. He looked over to the book they had been reading. It was an interesting, but not particularly well written, folk tale about four mythical beasts. It was sitting on Hua Cheng’s chair, about two steps away from the bed. The longer he laid there, the more tempted he was.

Do I dare? Without Hua Cheng present?

Well, it’s not like he couldn’t hold onto the bedside table and the chair for support. Just a step or two and he could reach over and grab it. If he really had to, he could find the strength, right? He was suddenly filled with bold willfulness. 

I can do this. 

It was time to make some progress. Hua Cheng’s coddling was just slowing him down. It had been over a month.

Just two steps. Who couldn’t manage two steps? He once went toe to toe with the Heavenly Emperor. 

He could take two steps.

Xie Lian pulled the blanket from over his legs and slid them off the side of the bed. He did his best to move them around, swinging them back and forth to get the blood pumping. He took a deep breath and planted his feet on the floor. The bedside table was sturdy, solid hardwood, and Xie Lian weighed hardly anything. It could hold him. He reached over and placed a hand on it and pushed himself off the bed, half waiting for his knees to buckle. They held strong, though the joints in his knees screamed angrily in response. 

That’s one step. 

Pressing some more weight on the table, he experimentally took another step, and transferred his weight over, following quickly with the other foot so that he didn’t put all his weight on one leg for too long. 

Two steps. Done.

The book was within reach. His legs hadn’t buckled on him yet. His heart was pounding and he was damp with sweat, but he couldn’t stop now. He reached over with a badly shaking arm and grabbed the book. Thankfully it was a light tome and his grip didn’t give out. He had it! 

He glanced back towards the bed, and it dawned on him that this was not a two step mission, it was a four step mission. His calves were pumping pure acid. He could probably have turned and sat on the chair to catch his breath, but this didn’t occur to him until after. His eyes were on the prize—the bed. He turned to head back in that direction, and that's when it happened. 

Though Hua Cheng had bought Xie Lian some robes that fit properly, Xie Lian’s current robes were Hua Cheng’s, and the ghost was a fair amount taller. 

As he tried to swivel, his foot got caught on the hem, just enough to falter mid-turn and force him to stand on the one foot. One moment Xie Lian was on the cusp of victory, the next instant he found himself falling forward. He hit the ground and the book was thrown nearly under the bed. The impact was beyond jarring to his frail body. He laid there on the floor for a long moment, panting, in utter shock. Then, searing pain began to seep into his ankle, spikes of it radiating up the length of his shin. It was the first real pain he’d felt, other than stomach cramps, since waking from the coffin. This was a lot worse than the stomach cramps.

Oh, I am still a fool.

As his shock dissipated, he tried to assess the damage. He was almost certain he’d heard a crack in his ankle as he twisted, so that wasn’t great. Also, when he fell, he’d tried and failed to catch himself with his right hand. That wrist was now throbbing terribly—more so than his shoulder and hip, which had also hit the floor.

He should have been worried about himself, but all he could think of was the butterflies. For the first time, Xie Lian felt a bit resentful toward the pretty little things watching over him. Had Hua Cheng just witnessed his sad little tumble? Was he going to be furious at him for trying this stupid stunt when he could barely complete a single step? 

Perhaps it was the pure terror of this possibility, but Xie Lian surged with energy suddenly— 

I don’t want to be caught like this. 

Pulling strength from some deep reserve within him, Xie Lian managed to crawl over and grab the book, actually tossing it up on the bed. Then, with great effort, and no small amount of pain, he was able to get his good foot under himself enough to heave his body upward. His hands tore at the sheets, trying to drag himself up. That wrist screamed in protest, as did his knees, but Xie Lian ignored it. It took several attempts, and it reminded him of a terrible night he once spent drinking.

He did manage to clamber back up onto the bed and collapse into it. 

His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was rocking the mattress. He felt sick. As the panic slowly faded, he found tears were threatening to form, though he didn’t know if it was just from the distress of what happened or from pure mortification. Still thinking of Hua Cheng seeing him through the butterflies, he managed to reposition himself properly and pull his covers up. He tried to fix the blankets as best he could. 

He lay there now, book in hand, but feeling less than victorious. At least if Hua Cheng had been watching, he’d have come running by now.

Xie Lian had done it, but there were consequences. 

He could feel that his wrist was hot, starting to swell, and the same went for his ankle, which actually felt much worse. He dared not even try to move it. He tried to read, but the throbbing pain was surprisingly distracting, like all the blood in his body had pooled down there. This meant the damage was probably significant. Even just the pressure of the blanket on his foot was causing discomfort. This wasn’t something he was just going to sleep off. All he could do was lay there trembling and feeling sorry for himself. 

Bad nutrition had clearly taken its toll on his bones.

He still felt sick to his stomach, but now it was because he dreaded the ghost’s return. A dark shadow of guilt hovered over him. He was always over-reaching, overestimating what he could do. He shouldn’t have tried this. He wouldn’t be able to hide his injuries. Worse, now Hua Cheng wouldn’t feel like he could leave him at night. He had been left alone for one evening and he somehow managed to break a bone. 

Hua Cheng was already losing patience with him. He probably had a whole bunch of work piling up while he played nursemaid to his washed-up fallen god. 

I really messed up, didn’t I?

Xie Lian just wanted to get better, was that so much to ask? He wanted to feel as he did when he was Hua Cheng’s god. He wanted to stand before the ghost king in his full majesty—in a body that was strong, sturdy, beautiful, and worthy of his reverence. He wanted to be able to spar with him and show off the graceful sword that had once elevated him to godhood. 

That's who he was supposed to be, not this wretched thing who had cause to celebrate when he held his teacup without shaking. Not a walking corpse that couldn’t manage even three steps. 

He didn’t want to feel pathetic anymore. 

At some point, all his sulking wore him out. Though his whole right side was thrumming in pain, Xie Lian managed to fall back to sleep. His nightmare, at least, was long forgotten.

Chapter Text

The slightly brighter twilight of early morning was sitting on the horizon. It was peeking through the library window as Hua Cheng finished writing down the final details of his spell’s array.

He sat within the shadow of a veritable mountain of books and scrolls. Yin Yu was working on the other side of the table, ripping relevant pages out of a book and putting them off to the side. The two had been utterly engrossed and had spoken little. Hua Cheng had wondered a few times if Yin Yu wasn’t also looking for a way to relieve himself of his own cursed shackle while they worked. 

By the end of the night, Hua Cheng had managed to find and incorporate the last piece of his puzzle into the array—the spell to keep Lang Qianqiu from dying in the process (or long aftermath) of getting nailed in. It was the kind of spell a mortal cultivator might spend an entire lifetime trying to perfect. Child’s play. 

The two of them shared a congratulatory drink, though Yin Yu didn’t seem especially invested in the revenge plans on any personal level. He was probably just celebrating that this job was finally now over. He’d once been a martial god, so he found this kind of work extremely dull. The Waning Moon Officer didn’t complain out loud, of course, but Hua Cheng knew his body language well. 

All that was left of Hua Cheng’s plan was to acquire the peach wood and actually make the item they needed. But not now. 

Proper morning would be upon them soon, and he had to make sure his God was well fed. He’d already called the kitchen for congee with chicken and pickled vegetables. Hua Cheng had felt awful leaving His Highness each night, but whenever he checked in on him through a butterfly, it was always the same. His Highness sleeping peacefully. He was relieved that he would no longer have to sneak off from here on out.

Hua Cheng suddenly realized he hadn’t actually checked in since they first got to work this evening. He’d been hot on the trail of that spell and become completely distracted. In all the days of this routine, this had never happened. Almost in a panic, he looked through a butterfly to find— 

His Highness sleeping peacefully.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Of course. 

Even now, after weeks had passed, it still gave him a little rush every time he saw His Highness sleeping in his bed. It was something he’d pictured often when he had this piece of furniture commissioned… though he was usually in it with him in such fantasies. As he observed the bedroom, he noticed something kind of odd, tearing him away from that thought. 

The book he had been reading to His Highness was resting next to him. His Highness had not gone to sleep reading. Hua Cheng had been reading to him. He would not have put the book back on the bed. Maybe he’d left it on the bedside table? No. Hua Cheng’s memory was one of his strongest qualities, and he knew he’d left it over on the chair. So how did His Highness get it?

Intrigued, he said goodnight to his assistant and headed back to the bedroom. 

He peeked through the red curtains, surveying his God. He looked a bit pale, but then again, he always did. The blankets were a bit unkempt, but His Highness also did tend to move around quite a bit in his sleep now that he’d built the muscle to do so. This didn’t make any sense. 

Well, there was one way to find out. His butterflies had little memories of their own, and they could share them. He reached up his hand, and one floated down to land lightly on the tip of his finger.

Tell me what happened after I left.

In an instant, flashes of the night began to stream into his head from behind his eyepatch. He could see the book clearly over on the chair.

Later. When did that book move?

The scene surged forward quickly, blurred, until suddenly returning to normal as his God awoke from a hell of a nightmare.

Hua Cheng cursed inwardly. He hadn’t been here to soothe him this time. His God seemed to struggle in the aftermath of the dream, and his gaze kept going to the book, like he was desperate to escape his own thoughts. He watched in alarm as his God threw his blankets off and went to stand up. 

What on earth was he thinking?

He’d been working with His Highness for days just for him to be able to stand. Not even to walk, just to hold his own weight with his own legs. There was no way he could go from barely being able to stand to walking over to the chair. But apparently, he’d done it, right? 

Hope filled him as he watched his God valiantly take a step, then two. 

His Highness grabbed the book, and then, to Hua Cheng’s utter horror, he twisted and fell—hard. 

The damn robes were too long. Though he’d bought him robes that fit, His Highness had said that these ones were his favorite. Hua Cheng couldn’t exactly say no to him. It brought him a shameful amount of joy to see him dressed in his clothes—dressed in red. Now look at what had happened. 

It was hard to keep watching, but he forced himself to witness his God’s struggle—to watch him crawl back to the bed. It took several heartbreaking attempts for His God to heave himself back up, though it was amazing that he’d even been able to. It was clear that something was wrong with the wrist he had landed on. He’d laid there in pain and defeat for some time. In the end, it seemed he was too demoralized to even read the book.

That’s enough.

The butterfly lifted from his finger and floated back up. Again, Hua Cheng had half a mind to run out onto the balcony and throw himself off. Instead, he crouched down, squeezing the sides of his head, and tried not to scream in frustration.

This happened because you were working behind His back, you trash. You’re STILL FUCKING USELESS.

Why did something like this happen every single time he actually got distracted? Was his God’s luck that abysmal? Hua Cheng struggled to keep his breathing in check, which shouldn’t have even been an issue for a ghost. His vision was dark around the edges, and there was a crushing pain at his center, like he was going to collapse into himself. As he’d recently learned, when he got upset enough, his body seemed to forget he was already dead—like a muscle memory.

He managed to keep it together outwardly—well, he managed to not curse or scream—but just barely. His Highness couldn’t see him like this.

He finally got a grip on himself and stood up again, frantically looking over his God for any obvious injuries, still fighting not to be consumed by fear and self-loathing. The blankets were covering most of him. He almost reached over to pull the covers back, but stopped himself. He didn’t want to wake him, no matter how much worry was gnawing at him. It was so hard to get him to sleep.

Oh my God, what if you’re really hurt? 

He turned away and rubbed roughly at his face. This was all his fault. He hadn’t been here to give him the book, just like he hadn’t been here to give him the water. He was the ghost fire again. He couldn’t do anything. 

Useless.

He wanted to tear his hair out. He wanted to bang his head against the wall. Anything to turn this guilt in his heart into something physical and tangible. Anything to punish himself since his God wasn’t going to. He couldn’t go through with these impulses, of course, because he'd have to leave for that, but it was tempting. He paced around until he felt a little bit calm again, not allowing himself the privacy of the balcony nor its reassuring view. 

He sank back into the chair he never should have left in the first place. He should have left a clone here. He wasn’t sure why he hated the idea so much, but he did. Perhaps it symbolized a lack of total commitment to him. His actions tonight proved that was true anyhow. He'd put his own petty revenge plans before his God’s care. 

I’m trash.

No matter what he had built and all he had become, Hua Cheng was still a failure in the one way that actually mattered to him. He had to be more. He had to be better than this. This couldn’t happen again.

From now on, there will always be a clone on standby, period. My God will want for nothing.

Hua Cheng spent the rest of the night fighting the urge to unsheathe E-ming and plunge it into himself.

Xie Lian woke later in the morning—or at least he thought so. Again, it was so hard to tell in Ghost City. 

Hua Cheng was waiting for him, sitting in his chair, a steaming breakfast plate already sitting on the bedside table. The ghost’s head was in his hands, and he hadn’t noticed that Xie Lian was awake yet. Xie Lian’s heart clenched at the strained look on his lovely face. It was pure misery. 

“San Lang?” he whispered, a bit fearful. The ghost’s head sprang up, and in an instant he was at his side. 

“Your Highness!” he said and then paused, as if he didn’t even know where to begin. “Your Highness… are you okay?” Xie Lian blinked. 

Last night’s events suddenly rushed back to him.

“I… I’m okay… I’m fine!” He blurted out, lying through his teeth. 

Has he already seen my injuries? Does he already know?!

The pain in his wrist and ankle was creeping up on him as the malaise of sleep cleared. Hua Cheng breathed a deep, exasperated sigh, falling into a crouch and resting his forehead on the corner of the bed. 

“I shouldn’t have left. I told you I wouldn’t leave you again, and then I did. I’m lying trash, and I’m so… so… ” It didn’t seem like he could finish.

“Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he finally said.

“Ah, please, don’t apologize! I wouldn’t expect you to stay by my side all day and night!” Xie Lian said, alarmed at the ghost’s blatant self-flagellation. 

“You needed help. I wasn’t there… and you…” he trailed off, his voice hoarse. Xie Lian froze.

“So then… you saw?” Xie Lian asked, suppressing a groan. Hua Cheng looked up at him then, his eye dark and turbulent.

“Not when it happened. I allowed myself to be distracted.” His forehead lowered again to the bed in shame. “When I came back, the book wasn’t where I left it, so I had a butterfly fill in the details.” 

Xie Lian didn’t realize the butterflies could relay what they’d already seen. He thought Hua Cheng had to be actively looking. Xie Lian burned with humiliation—ashamed both that he’d even tried to walk and how pitiful he must have looked. Falling and crawling, struggling to pull himself back up. He never wanted Hua Cheng to see him like that. Right now, his pride wasn’t important, however. 

Hua Cheng’s hands were clenching the sheets, clearly full of anger, but Xie Lian knew it wasn’t aimed at him. He reached over and gently placed a hand over one of Hua Cheng’s.

“Listen to me, San Lang. I… I made a terrible gamble. It was stupid beyond belief for me to even try. I severely misjudged my own abilities, and I paid the price. You don’t need to feel sorry for anything.”

“I should have been paying attention,” Hua Cheng said gruffly as he pulled his hand away, unwilling to be reassured. Xie Lian didn’t know what to say. The ghost stood up and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. His chest was heaving, like his breathing was shallow, but he didn’t open his mouth or make a sound. He paced once or twice between the bed and window, and it looked like he was struggling not to have some kind of outburst.

Xie Lian had never seen him like this before. Worried, yes, but right now he was just shy of hysterical. He could see his hands trembling from here.

“San Lang…” 

Xie Lian needed to fix this, but he’d never been in this position with someone before. He didn’t know how to approach it. It didn’t seem to matter that Xie Lian wasn’t mad at him. 

Was he so incapable of allowing himself to make even a single perceived misstep? Xie Lian had expected Hua Cheng to be upset, but not like this. He thought he was going to be chastised for his bad decision—he didn’t expect the ghost to blame himself! It didn’t seem like anything Xie Lian could say would change this either. If he said he was sorry for acting recklessly, it would only upset him further.

Finally, Hua Cheng took one big deep breath and let it out slowly, composing himself. Hua Cheng looked him over, that piercing eye sweeping Xie Lian from head to toe.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked in a flat tone. 

Every instinct he had told him to lie again.

Don’t make it worse. He already feels bad. 

And yet, Hua Cheng had asked him to speak up on these things, hadn’t he? He couldn’t hide swelling anyhow.

Xie Lian, defeated, yanked his right sleeve up and put on a fake smile, as if that would actually cushion the blow.

“Well… my wrist took most of the fall… and my ankle twisted.”

The ghost tensed for a moment as his eye landed on the injury, but then he nodded once, his face forced into something neutral and expressionless. It was unnerving. He walked back over to the bed and sat down, holding out his hand expectantly. 

Xie Lian hesitated before placing his wrist there. That blissfully cool hand did feel nice against the heat under his skin. His wrist was indeed swollen and slightly purple, but it really wasn’t that bad. Hua Cheng examined it closely, just barely moving it around, checking Xie Lian for any response or discomfort.

“Not broken, I don’t think,” he murmured. Xie Lian could sense a tiny bit of relief from him.

He gently placed his other hand on top, and Xie Lian felt a surge of warm energy jolt through him. This lasted a while, and Xie Lian did not say anything. He just observed the ghost’s face nervously. Hua Cheng kept his eyes focused on the wrist.

Healing with spiritual energy alone was incredibly taxing—it took an absurd amount just to heal a little bit, and most heavenly officials, short of the Divine Emperor, never bothered with it except in an emergency. He had to marvel at how much power this ghost was able to exert. Hadn’t he also healed his pierced heart this way? Whenever he realized how strong this man actually was, it sent a shiver down his spine.

Despite the rather morose atmosphere, Xie Lian couldn’t help but let his gaze drift appreciatively along Hua Cheng’s sharp features. He wondered how the ghost had lost his eye, but the chances were good that it was not a happy story, so he didn’t want to ask. It had not escaped his notice that the ghost’s spiritual weapon had a living eye in its hilt. It’s not like the eyepatch detracted from his looks in any way. If anything, it just made him look more alluringly dangerous. 

Xie Lian had been raised to recognize and appreciate real beauty and talent. Whether it was paintings or textiles, pottery or calligraphy, men or women, Xie Lian had a shrewd eye that was always subconsciously judging quality. Perhaps that's why he couldn’t stand what he had been reduced to. He was like a fine piece of porcelain that had been tragically shattered on the floor. 

But Hua Cheng is beautiful, a work of art, he couldn’t help but think. One of a kind.

Hua Cheng lifted his hand to reveal a normal, unswollen wrist, breaking Xie Lian out of his trance. He’d hardly noticed the pain disappear. After healing his wrist, Hua Cheng pulled the covers back to examine his ankle. He hissed slightly at the dark, swollen mess, and Xie Lian didn’t miss the harsh look that flashed across his face. It was almost instantly replaced by his new facade of calm. Xie Lian had hoped it might just be a bad sprain, but it was most certainly a fracture. 

Hua Cheng shuffled down to that end of the bed and very, very gently lifted his ankle with one hand. Xie Lian did his very best not to flinch, and in normal circumstances, he could have succeeded. Unfortunately, Hua Cheng was the one person he couldn’t hide his pain from, especially when he was already focused on it. Thankfully, he was also probably the only person Xie Lian would trust to handle his broken limb.

“Hold on, Your Highness,” he said quietly, “I just need to make sure everything is in place first.”

Hua Cheng began to very carefully readjust his ankle. Xie Lian saw the set of Hua Cheng’s jaw; the tension in his body any time his exceedingly gentle probing sparked a new jolt of pain. Xie Lian was putting all the effort he possessed into not reacting, but it didn’t matter. It was almost like the ghost could feel his pain. Maybe that was it—maybe that's how he always knew when he was hurt. Xie Lian had no idea how that would even be possible, but that's just how it felt to him.

“This will heal it faster,” Hua Cheng said as he produced a small bottle, seemingly out of thin air. 

He uncorked it with his teeth, and what looked like a light blue mist began to rise out of it. Hua Cheng blew on it, directing it towards Xie Lian’s ankle. It seemed to settle around it, sinking in with a slight glow. At once, the whole area began to tingle and itch, and Xie Lian felt tiny sparks of pain shoot up his leg. It grew hot, and it felt like the bone was knitting itself back together. Though the first couple minutes were extremely unpleasant, the pain then began to mellow and eventually fade. 

Hua Cheng said nothing throughout the whole thing; he’d just continued to hold Xie Lian’s ankle in his left hand. Once it was healed, the ghost ran his thumb tenderly over the area before placing it back on the bed.

“You should stay off that ankle for a few days,” he said, all business. Xie Lian nodded. 

No standing practice. In his haste, he’d just set himself back.

“Thank you, San Lang,” he mumbled.

He saw pain seep back into the ghost’s expression as he stood again.

“Please don’t thank me, Your Highness,” he replied. 

Xie Lian really couldn’t stand this. He didn’t like this distance between them, and not just the physical sort. 

Why is he being like this?

“I will thank you,” Xie Lian blurted out louder than he intended. He lowered his voice immediately. “I hurt myself, and you healed me, so why are you beating yourself up?” 

He saw the ghost’s fingers twitch. 

“You were hurt while in my care,” Hua Cheng said, once again unable to hide how affected he was by all this.

“So what if I got hurt? I’m better now.” Xie Lian said, frowning and crossing his thin arms. “San Lang, pain doesn’t mean anything. It’s temporary. I can hardly even register it anymore. I guarantee you are suffering far worse than I am over this, and there’s no reason for it.” 

Xie Lian had no idea how to read the look on the ghost’s face when he finally turned back to him. Appalled was probably a close description, but it was more than that. It was like he was going to disperse right there on the spot.

“Your pain means something to me,” he said in a low voice. Xie Lian could tell he was dead serious. This wasn’t exactly new information—few in his life had worried and fussed over him as this man had—but it stirred up something in his heart to hear it spoken so plainly. 

“Then… I’ll be more careful from now on,” he said softly. The ghost seemed to relent then, all his remaining fight drained, and he slumped.

“You should eat, Your Highness. Your breakfast is getting cold,” Hua Cheng said quietly as he placed the food tray on the bed.

Xie Lian did as he asked without another word, not wanting to stir the pot any further. 

For the rest of the morning, Xie Lian felt like he was walking on eggshells, but thankfully, Hua Cheng kept his emotions in check. Up until this point, they had gotten along so perfectly, and even though it wasn’t exactly a fight, the sudden tension between them was rather intolerable. Xie Lian didn’t want a repeat of this, so he was going to follow through with what he’d said and be more careful. It wouldn’t be easy—his bad luck meant he was pretty much always getting hurt somehow. All he could do was try to keep it to a minimum. 

Xie Lian’s guilt over this faded as he came to understand that the ghost held himself to a ridiculously high standard, and there was only so much Xie Lian could do about that. He wondered what on earth a Ghost King had left to prove. Perhaps that’s just how Hua Cheng became a Supreme. He accepted nothing less than perfection in all his actions. It was probably why he was so hard on his spiritual weapon as well.

It took a few hours for Hua Cheng to lighten up at all, and though he wasn't exactly back to normal, Xie Lian could tell he was feeling a bit better. He had shifted back to calling him ‘gege’, which was a start. Other than during meals, they spent most of the day in slightly uncomfortable silence. Xie Lian tried to finish his book and be done with it, but he was so distracted by the weird energy in the room that all he managed to do was reread the same page about fifty times. Hua Cheng seemed to be plugging away at a book of his own, but every time Xie Lian looked over, that dark eye was fixed in place on the page.

After they ate dinner, Hua Cheng asked him if he wanted a bath.

The bones in his wrist and ankle were healed, but there was still a slight ache to them. It wasn’t just his bones—his whole body was sore from the fall. The heat sounded good.

Xie Lian had taken many baths since that first awkward one. Nowadays, he could mostly wash himself without assistance once he was in the tub. Hua Cheng still needed to carry him in there, of course, and he was always on standby if he needed a little extra help. He still washed his hair for him. Xie Lian could do that himself too, if he was honest, but he didn’t tell Hua Cheng that. What could he say? The man had a gift, and it was always the best part of the bath. He didn’t want to try it with this weakened wrist anyhow. He had a lot of hair, and it was heavy when it was wet.

Hua Cheng scooped him up and walked him a couple doors down to his personal bathing room. There was also a large bathhouse attached to the manor, and Hua Cheng had asked Xie Lian once if he’d rather use that, but Xie Lian had declined. The smaller size of this room and the familiar wooden tub were more comfortable for him. Also, this tub would be a lot easier for Hua Cheng to lower him into and pull him from. As Hua Cheng assisted him in disrobing, he noticed all the large purple bruises down Xie Lian’s side and put his butterflies to use. He didn’t say a word as he did so. Xie Lian said nothing either, afraid of making the ghost upset all over again.

For most of the bath, Hua Cheng lingered on the other side of a silk screen to give him his privacy. 

Xie Lian frowned as he scrubbed at his legs. The bath sure felt nice, but the view was terrible. 

So skinny. I can still wrap my hand all the way around my calf... 

He didn’t feel like himself at all in times like this, his body in full view. These were someone else’s legs. He was trapped in someone else’s emaciated body, like a soul-shifting spell gone permanent. He had good days, and he had bad days when it came to looking at himself. This was a bad one. 

Though he tried to hide it all day, he was in a bad way after the events of last night. Hua Cheng’s reaction to his injury only made it worse. He was just so weak. No part of the day was easy. There was so far to go. He had to ask for every little thing. He was such a bother. 

It also didn’t help that Hua Cheng was so handsome—he made Xie Lian feel utterly grotesque by comparison, and in a way, it was a constant reminder of his current state. During his first ascension, Xie Lian had been adored by his female worshipers for his beauty—at least that’s what he was told. Right now, however, the gulf between him and the ghost was immense in every way. 

“San Lang, I just have my hair left,” he said softly. Though they did this about every other day now, he always felt childish when he asked.

“Of course, gege,” Hua Cheng said, and walked around the screen. 

They didn’t say much as he got to work, but they never did in times like this. It was too weird to keep up small talk while he was disrobed. Xie Lian closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the head massage while he still could. He always felt like he was getting away with something. Perhaps he was. He forced down a satisfied sigh as those talented fingers carded through his hair. This was a guilt he could live with, at least.

Lately, he was a bit torn between wanting to get his strength back and fearing the day he no longer needed any help. The day he would have to leave this manor would be upon him faster than he would expect. It was always like this in the brief respites when life actually felt okay. He didn’t look forward to being on his own again, but he knew he’d already taken up too much of the ghost’s time and hospitality. 

Truth be told, he wanted to give Hua Cheng a proper reason to stay in his life somehow. Right now, the reason was that he needed to be carried around, but that was only temporary. 

Xie Lian wasn’t a god anymore, so there was really nothing for Hua Cheng to gain from actively worshiping him. It felt like they were friends now, and he hoped he was more than just a charity case to him, but he just wasn’t sure what went on in Hua Cheng’s head. By the time this was over in a few months, wouldn’t he be good and ready to be rid of him? Surely he wanted to regain his freedom from this twenty-four-hour responsibility? He’d kept the ghost trapped in that infernal chair for weeks, partly due to his own irrational fears of leaving the bedroom area.

Xie Lian regretted that he had already taken so much from Hua Cheng… and yet he still wanted more.

He couldn’t remember the last time he cared about anyone’s opinion of him or the last time he pursued any kind of proper relationship with another person. He’d even kept Lanq Qianqiu at a distance. Despite this, he craved Hua Cheng’s attention and his approval. 

I want to be able to match him. I want to stand as his equal.

It was the first time he could recall wanting anything for himself in a very long time, short of freedom from the coffin. Maybe that’s why he was so desperate to recover quickly.

Hua Cheng rinsed his hair for the last time, and he steeled himself for the ghost to reach in and lift him out. He always hated this part—being fully revealed with nowhere and no way to hide. In moments like this, he really, really wanted to be strong enough to walk again, even if it meant walking out the door. 

Hua Cheng was as polite and nonjudgmental as he always was, keeping his eyes respectfully on his face or to where they were going. They got him dried and clothed once more. Hua Cheng had purchased several sets of plain white inner robes and outer cultivation robes, just as he preferred. They were of a much higher quality than he was used to, of course. When he left, he'd probably only take one set with him. He hoped he would be able to take good care of it. The chances of it being torn or stained right away were high, knowing how much bad luck probably awaited him.

Xie Lian was placed back in bed. This wonderful, terrible bed. Its sheets had been miraculously changed in the interim. 

Hua Cheng would usually start getting chatty around this point, now that Xie Lian was decent again. Tonight, however, Hua Cheng didn’t seem like he had much to say. It was like his mind was elsewhere. He'd been like this off and on for a few days, actually, but after a day like this one, Xie Lian didn’t want to sit in silence any longer. He needed some kind of reassurance that they were okay, that the ghost wasn’t still upset, and that he didn’t secretly want to be rid of him. 

“San Lang… are you alright?” he finally asked. Hua Cheng seemed to snap out of whatever reverie he was in.

“What? Yes, of course. Why do you ask?” 

“I don’t know, lately you just seem... ah, n-nevermind.” Xie Lian smiled awkwardly and scratched his cheek. Hua Cheng looked at him and frowned.

“Gege, I’m sorry if I’ve been… distant. I’ve had a lot on my mind. Business I need to take care of soon. I’ve been trying to think of the best way to tackle it is all.” 

So, Xie Lian was keeping him from his business, just as he thought. 

“I see. Anything I can do to help? You could brainstorm with me if you need someone to bounce ideas off of,” Xie Lian suggested, excited at the prospect of actually being useful. Hua Cheng waved his hand in dismissal.

“It’s nothing to worry about. My business can be messy and cutthroat. Not your cup of tea, I assure you.” Xie Lian was a bit let down by that. Then again, it really was none of his business.

“You know… if you want to go take care of things, you can leave me here on my own. I promise I won’t try to get up and walk again,” he said with a short laugh. Hua Cheng looked mildly offended.

“Don’t be ridiculous, gege. I don’t want to be anywhere but here. A fearsome ghost king like myself can slack off as much as he pleases, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” He gave Xie Lian a quick, lopsided smile that showed off one of his canine teeth. 

That audacious little grin always made his heart flutter in his chest, and he never saw it coming. Xie Lian really was quite weak to this man. He could do nothing but smile back and try to act naturally. That grin and those words washed away his earlier fears a little bit. Now it felt like they were getting back to normal. All he needed from Hua Cheng was a genuine smile, and all his anxiety was washed away. He smiled warmly back.

"I'm sure that's true," he replied with a small laugh.

“Gege seems tired. Want me to read aloud?” Hua Cheng asked, grabbing the folktale Xie Lian had been suffering through. Being read to while he was laying down always put Xie Lian to sleep, but he’d come to realize that was the point. He didn’t mind this time. He was ready for this day to end. He nodded gratefully.

As Hua Cheng read, Xie Lian watched the butterflies, sneaking the occasional indulgent peek at his caretaker. His expression was soft and easy, and Xie Lian was relieved. It took him quite a while to realize he wasn’t even paying attention to the story. He just wanted to listen to the dulcet tones of this voice forever. He wanted to stay here. He wanted to always behold this face as he drifted to sleep.

In this unassuming little moment, not unlike many they’d had before, Xie Lian realized just how much trouble he was in. 

His heart thumped loudly a few times in response to his sudden epiphany. He was suddenly very awake.

Well, there’s a first time for everything, I suppose. Strange that this took almost 600 years. 

Xie Lian had spent the past month pondering if he’d always found men attractive without realizing it. He had wondered what it was about Hua Cheng that made him so uniquely beguiling. He was only now realizing that he’d never actually been attracted to anyone before. He didn’t know the real meaning of the word until he’d laid eyes on this man.

He could always recognize beauty, sure, but it never really affected him until now. No one else had ever made his heart race just by glancing at him. No one had ever made him feel so at ease by his mere presence, either. He had always been so committed to his cultivation path, well-trained in how to resist temptation, and yet this had snuck up on him.

In all his centuries of travel, he had met countless beauties, both male and female, and none had ever managed to charm him. He thought of it as something he was especially blessed in resisting, an effortless virtue. These past few weeks, however, he’d been plagued by intrusive thoughts about Hua Cheng. He had been refusing to acknowledge them, but suddenly the whole picture was very clear to him.

Oh, is this why my chosen path is considered so difficult? 

As he mused on this, he realized it was more than just physical desires he was struggling with—those were easy to ignore. It wasn’t just Hua Cheng’s looks or touch that he was weak to. It was the affection in Hua Cheng’s voice. It was his gentleness, compassion, and worry. His playful wit and arrogance. It was the hugs that tore him away from his nightmares. It was the feeling of incomparable safety he felt with him—like nothing could threaten him—not even his luck.

And, ok, yes, Xie Lian was also drawn in by the ghost's power and the intense aura of danger he radiated. He really wanted to see what he looked like wielding that deadly scimitar. He wanted to know everything about him.

It then dawned on Xie Lian why he wanted so badly for the two of them to be on equal footing as well. 

He just wanted to be worthy. 

Xie Lian swallowed thickly and glanced over at the ghost, self-consciousness setting in. Only then did he realize that Hua Cheng had paused in his reading. He met Xie Lian’s eyes with a curious but amused expression, and Xie Lian’s mind went completely blank.

“Gege sure seems interested in this story tonight. I thought you found it boring.”

Xie Lian immediately broke eye contact and laughed. He wondered what kind of face he had been making to draw Hua Cheng’s attention. Did he look as sweaty as he felt right now? Could Hua Cheng hear how loud his heart was thumping? This new understanding of his own feelings had him in shambles now.

“Well, it got more interesting,” he said, hoping dearly that it had, in fact, gotten more interesting. Hua Cheng smiled.

“Then I’ll keep going.” 

“Please.”

Xie Lian was very glad the ghost couldn’t read his thoughts. 

He did wonder if Hua Cheng could tell how he felt, as he did seem to get satisfaction from teasing him and making him flush from time to time. He hoped not. There was something embarrassing about feeling this way. Perhaps he’d thought he was above such things. Being immortal, it had always felt like there was no point in investing his heart in anyone, and it certainly wasn’t like any Heavenly Officials were lining up to date the infamous Laughingstock. He had given up on romance being a part of his life very early on. 

He had never considered there might be a third option—someone neither mortal nor heavenly. 

He had never considered a ghost before. 

Well, ghost or not, anyone who found out about his full past was not likely to stick around anyhow. He didn’t seriously believe there was someone out there who could love all of him, and even if someone like that existed, his bad luck was sure to drive them away in a matter of time. Xie Lian had well learned he was not an easy person to be around for long. In fact, it was usually detrimental to one’s health.

Hua Cheng had reached a particularly exciting part of the story Xie Lian wasn’t paying attention to, and it drew him away from that miserable thought. He no longer understood the context of what was happening but appreciated the gusto with which Hua Cheng was describing it. He loved the subtle ways he changed his tone when speaking as a character. Xie Lian’s gaze lingered on the little changes to his expression, the little half-smiles, the shape of his lips. 

He imagined being able to reach up and lift the hair that was trained to hide half of his face.

So many little thoughts like this had come to him unbidden. Small, relatively innocent urges, like taking his hand or leaning against his shoulder. He felt his stomach tie into a knot, now that he could recognize these thoughts for what they were.

It’s not like Xie Lian was anticipating anything between them, of course. He wouldn’t act on these thoughts. He knew how unpleasant his appearance was right now, even if the ghost was into other men. Hua Cheng could never unsee him like this. Standing as his equal in strength or beauty probably wouldn’t accomplish anything he yearned for. 

Besides, Hua Cheng was his worshiper. He was also far too good for Xie Lian. Nothing Xie Lian could do would ever make him feel worthy of this person. Expectation or hope weren’t even on the table. 

These truths didn’t get rid of Xie Lian’s feelings, though. Knowing it wouldn’t happen didn’t stop him from wanting this, and it likely wouldn’t be able to stop him from fantasizing. The shame he felt about it was warranted—he was supposed to be living in atonement. He had no business having these feelings at all. 

Maybe that's why this is happening now, he suddenly thought.

Of all possible times for such feelings to arise, this had to be the worst, right? He looked grotesque. He was weak and beyond pathetic. How many times had he cried this past month? He was an idiot for allowing himself to be buried alive in the first place. Falling for someone now—someone who had to see him in this state—was a disaster. Just like everything else in his life. 

This was what he deserved.

“Are you alright, gege?” He heard the ghost speak up and realized that his own face was pulled into a deep frown. 

“Oh, uh, yes. I’m fine! I was just thinking about something. Sorry, I’ll pay attention,” he said quickly, pushing down the lump in his throat.

“Don’t apologize. Is something the matter?” Hua Cheng asked, putting the book down. 

Xie Lian felt his heart squeeze tightly. He’d been fine seconds ago, but suddenly having Hua Cheng ask this caused a bunch of rogue emotions to bubble up within him. It was sour and burning, like bile in his throat. With immense effort, he managed to choke them back down, to keep a straight face, to keep those tears of immense loneliness at bay. Somehow, he managed to give the ghost a gentle smile.

“No, you can keep reading,” he lied. 

The ghost gave him a lingering look of concern, but he realized Xie Lian wasn’t going to open up. He gave in and continued the story. After a moment more of struggling, Xie Lian managed to reign in the sudden heartache that had gripped him. He could feel Ruoye tightening against his arm, as if to remind him he was never alone.

He would deal with this. He was strong enough. He was not exactly right in the head at the moment, not after all he’d been through. Surely he was just confused and feeling attached to the man who saved him, right? It couldn’t be a coincidence that these feelings in him surfaced while he was in this broken condition. 

Maybe it was just a very strong aesthetic appreciation. Maybe he was just touch-starved. Maybe it was just that Hua Cheng was kind to him, and he was soaking it up like a dried-out sponge. Maybe he was flattered to have a believer. Anyone, really, with any respect for him at all was an amazing thing. Maybe it had just been too long since he let anyone come so close.

As he tried to rationalize and reassure himself, deep down, Xie Lian still knew the bitter truth of it. He knew how he felt and what he wanted, and he knew he couldn’t have it. There was nothing to be done about it. Unlike many of his past misfortunes, he didn’t think this one could have been avoided either. He never stood a chance against someone as wonderful as Hua Cheng.

After all he’d done for him, how could he not be a little infatuated? 

He would survive. He’d been through worse torments. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut and keep his hands to himself, and everything would be fine.

Eventually, whatever this is, it will pass.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng stood before the peach tree, gazing up into its canopy. 

That little glimmer and glow of spiritual energy that lurked within would probably never be noticed by mortals passing by, though of course they would be surprised to see the tree bearing fruit in winter. They’d never know the significance of this place, however. He hated to destroy any part of it, even though it did stand as a testament to his God’s hardship and pain. It was also still a part of Him. He wondered what one of its peaches would taste like. What would it even mean for a believer to consume a part of their God?

Would that be worship or blasphemy?

He decided he was not worthy of such a thing. He wasn’t even worthy of the old fruit that lay moldering on the ground below it. He came here for another reason—something far outside of his God’s wishes, after all. He just needed to get this done and over with. Then he could move on without any distractions or regrets. Any anger that might yet linger would be quenched by the memory of seeing justice served.

He chose a larger limb that was very straight. Ideally, a stake should be made of the harder wood in the trunk, but Hua Cheng wasn’t willing to cut the tree down. With a flash of E-ming, the branch was felled. Hua Cheng caught it in the air, not allowing it to land in the mud. With another slash, the smaller end of the branch with all the leaves was trimmed away. He brought the saber back to his waist and turned away from the tree.

He left while he could still resist the temptation.

Xie Lian was sitting in Hua Cheng’s chair, a stack of books on his lap. He casually tossed a couple of them on the bed and stifled a yawn. It was almost dinner time, but he was worried he’d fall asleep before he could eat. Hua Cheng was leaning against the bed, arms crossed, looking curiously at his choices.

It was the real Hua Cheng, not one of his clones. In the evenings, after Xie Lian fell asleep, Hua Cheng had begun leaving a clone in the room to help him with anything he might need. Like grabbing a book, for instance. He was honest and straightforward about it, and he made sure the clone looked different so Xie Lian would always know when he was the real one. The clone appeared younger, shorter, with his hair tied back and both of his eyes visible. Like Hua Cheng as a young servant boy.

“Are all my choices truly that boring?” drawled Hua Cheng, grabbing one of the books he’d chosen.

“Not at all! San Lang has great taste in literature.”

“But gege has only two books in that whole stack that he wants to read,” he whined.

Xie Lian laughed at the pout he was displaying. He was glad the ghost seemed to be back to his old self. The days that followed breaking his ankle had remained a little bit strained, with Hua Cheng back to acting exceedingly polite and overly-attentive. Such attitudes could only last so long, however. People were who they were.

“I’m sure all these are fantastic, but I think I’m in the mood for something different. Maybe poetry.”

“Ah, His Highness has such refined taste. No worries, the library isn’t lacking in poetry,” Hua Cheng said proudly.

“Mn…”

Xie Lian gulped as he considered his next words. Now was probably the perfect time to bring this up. It was time.

“San Lang… I think I’m ready to see more of the manor.” 

He said it in the tone of a man signing his own death warrant.

Despite Xie Lian’s obvious unease, Hua Cheng’s eye lit up, and for an instant, it reminded Xie Lian of E-ming. His earnest excitement made Xie Lian’s heart jump, and he was glad he’d finally built up the courage. It was such a strange thing to be afraid of, but that was all the more reason to face it.

“Would gege like to eat in the dining hall?” he asked, throwing the book back on the bed. Xie Lian laughed nervously and stared down at the floor.

“Ah..well… maybe? I was going to say the library,” Xie Lian replied.

“Oh, certainly. We can save the dining hall for another time, then.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely. I-I’m just…” Xie Lian’s hands clenched in his lap. Hua Cheng moved a bit closer, bumping Xie Lian’s leg lightly with one of his slender black boots.

“Hmm?” he coaxed gently. Xie Lian cleared his throat.

“...I don’t know if I want anyone to see me just yet,” he admitted in a small voice. The ghost didn’t respond right away, and Xie Lian finally glanced up. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the ghost look so gob-smacked.

“Of course that's why,” he breathed. “If gege doesn’t want to see any servants, I can send them away. That’s no reason for you to stay cooped up in here!”

Xie Lian flushed deeply.

“I mean, it’s not only that! It's part of it, but I… I needed to… I just wasn’t ready yet. But… I think I’m starting to feel ready. I know it’s silly.” Xie Lian rubbed the back of his neck, feeling incredibly foolish.

When did I become such a coward?!

“It’s not silly at all,” Hua Cheng said as he reached over and gave his thin shoulder a squeeze. “Gege has been away from the world for a long time. You can take as long as you need to return to it.” 

Xie Lian took a trembling breath and nodded, eyes closed, feeling calmer at once under the ghost’s touch. Sometimes that touch did the opposite, but when he was distressed in any way, there was nothing else that could make him feel so assured. He’d probably begun to rely on it a bit too much, really.

“Thank you for understanding,” he said, his heart swelling with warmth.

Xie Lian wanted to reach up and take his hand, and he almost considered it, but all too quickly that hand was removed.

“So then, let’s start with the library. Would you want to go there tomorrow?” Hua Cheng asked cheerfully.

“Ah, yes! I would like that. I’m excited to pick books out for myself!” 

Hua Cheng stood up, bringing his finger to his temple.

“Very well. I’ll order dinner to the room. Oh, and should I make sure no one is around when we head to the library?”

 Xie Lian debated for a moment.

“No… No. I should start trying to interact with other people. I can’t keep hiding away like this.”

“You can, but I understand. We’ll take it slow. How about one other person?”

“That sounds good,” Xie Lian said.

It didn’t, actually, but he needed to take the first step. He couldn’t help that he was skinny and he shouldn’t care what anyone else thought, anyhow. This hadn’t been an issue for him for him before, but then again, he’d never looked this bad before. Covered in mud from an unfortunate trip? Sure. Drenched and shivering in the rain on the side of the street? Plenty of times. But not this. He wished he had a large mask to hide behind.

That evening, Xie Lian fell asleep only for about an hour before waking again. 

As usual, Hua Cheng had gone off to take care of his business and left his clone there in his stead. The clone was sitting back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes closed. Xie Lian knew he was listening for him, though. Hua Cheng didn’t sleep, nor did his clones. If Xie Lian were someone else, his situation might feel like that of a prisoner. Always having someone on guard didn’t bother Xie Lian. To him, it was a thing of comfort. 

It was being all alone that was scary.

Hua Cheng must be very busy with whatever cutthroat machinations he had going on. He was talking into a spiritual array at all hours of the day, and sometimes he was noticeably disgruntled about what was going on. Xie Lian burned with curiosity but did not ask questions. Hua Cheng offered no explanations, either. He wondered what trouble Hua Cheng was getting into tonight. He felt a bit worried about him for some reason. The Ghost King was gone for plenty of nights this week, and he never returned with so much as a scratch, but Xie Lian’s instincts kept telling him that something was happening. It might be good or bad.

He knew he should try to go back to sleep, but he was nervous—both for Hua Cheng and about tomorrow.

He was excited to pick out books, but he was still a bit wary of talking to someone new. He didn’t think simply going into another room should feel so intimidating, and yet he was inexplicably on edge about it. He made himself close his eyes and breathe deeply and slowly. At some point, somehow, sleep claimed him once more. 

Ultimately, he woke up several more times throughout the night, not staying asleep long enough even to dream. Normally this would be a blessing, but he'd wanted to greet this morning well rested, so it was actually annoying. This roiling stew of anxiety left him in a haggard state.

When Hua Cheng finally returned, breakfast in hand, he was surprised to find Xie Lian already awake.

“You’re up early, gege,” he said as he set the tray on the bedside table and poured Xie Lian some tea. “You still look tired.”

“I’m fine. I guess I was just excited for today’s adventure, so it was hard to sleep,” Xie Lian said as he took the cup from him. 

He couldn’t help but notice, as he always did, the slightest touch of their fingers as the cup was passed off. It filled him with affection every time, and he wondered if the ghost did that on purpose. Hua Cheng hesitated slightly, and Xie Lian could see him mulling something over.

“We may need to reschedule,” he finally said with a sour expression on his face.

“Oh, why is that?” Xie Lian asked, feeling a rush of relief.

“I could take you there, but I would have to leave a clone with you if you wanted to stay long. Something came up last night, and there’s someone I must meet with today.” 

Xian saw a darkness flash across his face and knew immediately that it would not be a friendly meeting.

“I understand. It’s alright, San Lang.” The ghost gave him a deeply guilty look.

“Ah, but gege was up all night excited for this… I’m letting my God down once again,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No! No, really, it's okay,” Xie Lian said, waving his hands. “I am pretty tired, after all.”

Hua Cheng sighed and stroked his chin, thinking.

“You have no poetry and no San Lang here to entertain you today. That won’t do. I have time to take you over there for a few minutes—long enough to grab a few books, anyhow. Would that be alright?”

Xie Lian considered it. A quick trip would be a shame, but it made sense. Then he had an awful thought.

“Ah, what if you just dropped me off there?” Xie Lian asked, mustering up some resolve. If he was going to face this, he shouldn’t half-ass it. Hua Cheng raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure you’d be alright? Obviously, I could leave a clone with you to carry you back anytime,” Hua Cheng said.

“Yes… a day in the library, away from this room, is probably what I need.” 

The ghost had been wearing a severe expression up until now, but it relaxed slightly at this.

“Well, would gege like to have some company that isn’t me? When we last spoke of this, you said you wouldn’t mind another person being around. My clone could still help you, of course, but most of me would have to stay focused at this… meeting. It won’t be much for conversation.”

“Oh, of course, I’d hate to distract you.” 

 Xie Lian suddenly thought of Hua Cheng in the midst of a battle while still having to send his clone to pick out a new book for him. Not a good idea.

“I wouldn’t mind some company,” Xie Lian lied. 

Hua Cheng nodded. Xie Lian could tell he was still wrestling with this compromise. 

To be fair, Xie Lian wasn’t thrilled at this change of plans either. Leaving this area was stressful, and to know he’d be spending time away without the real Hua Cheng was even more so, but he was the one who asked for this. If he could get through this—a strange room, a strange person—he could get through everything that would have to come next. 

“Alright then, library trip it is. I’ll have Yin Yu clean it up while you eat breakfast.” Hua Cheng announced.

“Oh, is it that messy?” he asked. The ghost paused, and then he looked almost chagrined.

“Well… when I was first searching for that medical book, I did a number on the place,” he said with uncharacteristic awkwardness, “Yin Yu should re-shelve it for your visit.”

It was rare for Hua Cheng to lose face like this. He really must have torn the place apart. Perhaps he had been panicked at the time and hated to admit it. It was kind of funny to imagine now, but he was sure the ghost had been a wreck those first few weeks. Xie Lian took a steamed bun from the tray. Hua Cheng took a seat next to him on the bed and leaned back. If Xie Lian wasn't mistaken, he looked a bit tired too. That was new. He looked  a little drained.

“So then, was er… business good last night?” he asked. Hua Cheng took a bun for himself and considered it for a moment.

“Yes. Yes, it was,” he took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. 

Xie Lian wished he would give him some kind of clue as to the nature of it. Was it the gambler’s den? Unruly citizens? Heavenly officials? Rival ghosts? Then he had a horrifying thought that had never cropped up before—what if Hua Cheng had a significant other?

What if all this ‘business’ was about that person feeling neglected and needing his attention? For some reason, that red affinity knot Hua Cheng  wore on his finger sprang to mind. Xie Lian had no right to feel jealous, especially of someone who might not exist, but his stomach dropped at the thought of it. He stole a glance or two at the ghost, as a new worry settled into his heart among the many others.

“I’m glad. Whatever it was, I hope it all went smoothly,” he said, not even tasting the pork bun he was eating. Hua Cheng seemed to notice the change in his disposition. 

“Gege is curious,” he said with a teasing smile.

Xie Lian tried not to choke on his bite of food, caught off guard by that particular look of his. He just managed to nod, probably a little too enthusiastically. He really had been dying to know what he was up to.

“There's not much to tell. I’ve been working on a little project. A bit of a… whisper campaign of sorts. It’s been a delicate thing to manage, getting the right information into the right ears in the least suspicious way. But I think I succeeded last night.” 

Xie Lian felt a rush of relief.

“Oh so… spreading rumors?”

“Something like that. Planting information for people to find, if I so wish it. Planting ideas in people’s heads. Things for them to remember later.” Hua Cheng smiled wider, giving off the appearance, as he often did, of a trickster spirit.

“I’m surprised. San Lang always acts so bold, I figured you’d be the type to just confront things head-on,” he said.

“I am, most of the time. But sometimes a situation calls for a delicate touch. Sometimes ruining someone is more satisfying than killing them outright.”

Xie Lian was taken aback by the aura of malice that was radiating from him now. He could almost taste it in the air, like iron or blood. He must really hate this person. 

“Remind me never to anger you.” Xie Lian said warily.

Not that there's anything left of my life to ruin now. 

The ghost snapped out of whatever dark fantasy he was considering. As he turned to Xie Lian, his face changed instantly back into the warm and gentle visage he was so accustomed to. He was relieved, but also hoped that this face of his was a sincere one, and not part of some other cunning ruse.

“I can be a monster, gege, but you’re someone I’d never harm. I’m only a monster to those who threaten me or things I treasure.“

The fierce look in that dark glittering eye reassured him. Xie Lian still couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for whoever had crossed him this time. Xie Lian huffed out a laugh.

“Here I was beginning to think your business was running off to see a special someone,” he half-joked. Hua Cheng’s eye went wide, and then he laughed loudly.

The derision in it forced Xie Lian to ask, “What? Has San Lang never had someone like that in his life?” The light in the ghost’s eyes dimmed at once, and he sighed, scratching at the back of head.

“Mn... yes, I do have a special someone in the world… but I don’t think it’s meant to be,” he said with an extraordinarilly fake smile. 

It felt like someone reached in and squeezed all the air from Xie Lian’s lungs.

“…n- not meant to be?” he stammered in confusion.

“They are someone I am not worthy of,” the ghost replied, finishing the last of his bun in one bite.

Knowing that the ghost already had someone was like a stab to the heart, but knowing Hua Cheng might feel that heartache— the same as Xie Lian’s—made it so much worse. Anger rose up in him on the ghost’s behalf.

“How can you not be worthy of them? San Lang is… so wonderful,” he said earnestly, cursing himself for not finding a more adequate word to describe all that this person was. Hua Cheng laughed, and Xie Lian could hear the bitterness underneath.

“I’ve joked about it before, but I am actually a very bad man, and very selfish,” he said, messing with the red coral bead in his hair as he fixed his gaze on Xie Lian. “I’ve lied often to this special someone. Plotted things they would hate if they knew.”

He slowly walked away from him and turned towards the red glow of Ghost City which was flooding through the window.

“They have had… a difficult life. And through all their troubles, I either wasn’t there for them at all or I was there but I couldn’t protect them. I couldn’t prevent any of those horrible things from happening and I couldn’t soothe them in the aftermath either. What use am I, honestly, if I can never help when they need it most? They deserve better. So much more.” 

In that deep voice, Xie Lian could hear a sorrow that struck all the way to the ghost’s core. He couldn’t help but wonder if this special someone was the reason this man was a ghost in the first place. Maybe these failures could explain why he was so hard on himself. Either way, Xie Lian was surprised that the ghost was willing to share this. Perhaps, he hadn’t had anyone to talk to in a long time either.

“… couldn’t you…” he started, but he realized he had no business giving advice. He didn’t know enough about them, and he knew even less about matters of love.

It was hard to imagine who this person must deserve, if not Hua Cheng. How could someone possibly do better? Xie Lian was a bit torn between his urge to reassure his friend and his own massive and terrible envy of the person Hua Cheng loved. There was a beat, where neither of them spoke.

“It's nothing gege should worry about,” Hua Cheng said, his face softening.

“Though I often planned a future with them in my youth, I think, deep down, I always knew it wouldn’t happen. My failures are just a confirmation of what I already suspected. I’ve accepted it.”

Hua Cheng straightened his robes a little, seemingly nonchalant about the whole thing. Xie Lian was getting better at seeing through the many fronts he put up, however. Besides, coming to accept something didn’t mean it wasn’t still painful…

“Whenever you’re finished eating, we can get going,” Hua Cheng said lightly, starting to dig through the dresser drawers.

Talk about a heel turn.

Xie Lian had almost forgotten about the library, but he was also relieved at the change in conversation. He finished his pork bun hastily, his mind still lingering on the sadness he heard in Hua Cheng’s voice. He shouldn’t be surprised that the man carried heavy wounds. Most ghosts did, after all. Otherwise, they’d have moved on.

After he was finished eating, Hua Cheng helped dress him properly for the day—plain white, as he preferred. Hua Cheng even pulled half his hair back and up into a bun, just as he had used to wear it. For a moment, Xie Lian felt like himself again. All he was missing was his bamboo hat.

Hua Cheng reached down to lift him up and he looped his arm around the ghost's neck, holding onto the other shoulder. He couldn’t believe how natural this had become.

“Gege is gaining weight,” he said appreciatively. Xie Lian flushed and reminded himself that that was a good thing.

Xie Lian could actually now stumble three or four steps, but it wasn’t far enough to be useful just yet.

Each new victory on that front was tainted with the knowledge that he was another step closer to leaving. The more comfortable he grew here, the greater his dread became. It would be wildly suggestive for Xie Lian to ask to live with him, of course, but maybe he could work here as part of the help? He did owe him after all this. In truth, this was a big part of why he wanted to start talking to others in the manor.

Xie Lian steeled himself as they walked down the hall and past the double doors he’d never seen the other side of. They took several corridors, and Xie Lian peeked into the various rooms they passed by—mostly guest bedrooms by the look of them. They all looked luxuriously appointed. Most of the floors had soft rugs. This man certainly loved the color red.

They didn’t see another soul, and Xie Lian was relieved.

Finally, they reached the library, whose large ornate door was propped open. Inside, a man was straightening up. He could be none other than the infamous Waning Moon Officer, Yin Yu, whom Hua Cheng always mentioned in passing.

He was not at all what Xie Lian expected. He expected someone who looked more like a servant. This shady fellow was dressed smartly in a dark tunic and cape. He was tidy, but he did not give off the impression of a house attendant. He wore dark pants tucked into black boots and had his long hair tied back in a loose ponytail. His face was hidden by a ghostly white mask with a contorted smile. Xie Lian noted that the skin on his hands and neck was not pale enough to be a typical ghost. He strongly suspected this man was still among the living.

“Ah! Hello!” Xie Lian said warmly.

His stomach twisted just after he opened his mouth, and he felt very clumsy and unnatural all of a sudden. This was his first time meeting someone other than Hua Cheng in over seventy years, after all.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Yin Yu said with a short bow. Xie Lian was taken aback, but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that the man knew who he was.

“This is the Waning Moon Officer, he will be assisting us,” Hua Cheng said cordially.

“T-thank you very much.”

Before Xie Lian could speak further, Hua Cheng swept into the room properly and began giving him the tour.

There were several rows of bookshelves, lined end to end with well-organized tomes and scrolls. There were also a number of soft divans and chairs about the room, and one large table with chairs at the back near a window. The floor was covered in expensive looking rugs, which Hua Cheng trampled over with his boots without a second thought. 

As they walked around, they were shadowed by the “Waning Moon Officer,” who took to carrying any of the books Xie Lian pointed out. He worried he was being troublesome, but there wasn’t much to do about it.

After collecting as many books as Xie Lian dared make the man carry, Hua Cheng aimed first for the table and then changed his mind. Instead, he took him to the large divan near the center of the room, one with a soft blanket thrown over it. He gently placed him down and directed Yin Yu to place the stack of books down. He made no move to sit himself. 

Xie Lian realized Hua Cheng was about to leave. The ghost sighed, reluctant.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I suppose the time has come.” 

Xie Lian could tell the apology was a genuine one. He didn’t look like he wanted to go and he’d gone back to saying “Your Highness”—a surefire way to determine if he was feeling guilty or self deprecating.

“There’s no need to apologize!” he insisted. “I’ll be fine. Go take care of business.” He smiled at the ghost. The ghost smiled back, but Xie Lian didn’t think it reached his eyes.

“I promise, this is the last time I will be distracted from my duty to you. I’ll leave my clone in the hallway. Send my officer to grab him if you need to be taken anywhere.”

Xie Lian puzzled at his use of the word “duty” but chose not to get into that now.

“Ah, alright. I appreciate it!” he said. Hua Cheng nodded but didn’t immediately turn to leave. Xie Lian could see tension in the ghost’s shoulders.

“San Lang seems apprehensive. Is this business meeting going to be especially dangerous?” Xie Lian asked softly.

Hua Cheng’s eyebrows rose at the question, like perhaps he didn’t realize Xie Lian could read between the lines.

“It's… not that it's dangerous, necessarily. Not for me, anyhow. But, let's just say… there will be no going back after this.”

“Ah. You’ve had to make a big decision then,” he said knowingly. 

“Yes. I’ve planned for this thoroughly, but... well, I suppose no one can foresee all the possible consequences of their actions,” Hua Cheng admitted, adjusting his vambraces and staring into the middle distance.

“Well, I know what it’s like to be in that position, and I don’t envy you,” Xie Lian said sadly. “But San Lang is a very smart man. I’m sure you’ve made the right choice. If not, I’m sure you’ll find some way to handle it.” The ghost stiffened slightly.

“I hope that’s true, Your Highness,” he said. 

“Go on then. Do what it is you have to do, and don’t worry about me today.” 

Xie Lian had full confidence in him. He reached out and took Hua Cheng’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, much in the way Hua Cheng had done for him so many times. For some reason, the ghost didn’t meet his eye and Xie Lian hoped he hadn't overstepped. There was a heavy pause, as the ghost wavered. It was so uncharacteristic for him to appear unsure. The ghost finally took a breath, nodded, and pulled back his hand.

“Right. I’ll be back before dinner. Until then, Your Highness.”

“Good luck!” Xie Lian chirped. The ghost huffed out a laugh.

“My luck is always good.”

Hua Cheng flashed him a grin as he finally turned to leave. Xie Lian didn’t miss the very different look he shot at his assistant.

I’m trusting you with this, don’t fuck up, it clearly said.

Yin Yu flinched, and gave a curt nod. Hua Cheng didn’t say anything; he threw his dice and vanished from the room.

Xie Lian was left all alone with the Waning Moon Officer.

He had kind of forgotten that Yin Yu was there—he had a way of blending in with the background. Xie Lian’s face warmed and he wondered what Yin Yu thought of the two of them. What did he think their relationship was? What all had Hua Cheng told him? He pushed it from his mind. Hua Cheng was the only one whose opinion he cared about anyhow. Xie Lian made an effort not to act as dejected as he felt, being abruptly left behind like this. 

I’ve gotten so needy.

He picked up the book at the top of the pile and leafed through it. The poetry was good, but he found he was struggling to appreciate it. How was he supposed to concentrate on anything, knowing that Hua Cheng was off at a potentially dangerous business meeting? Why had he even bothered to come here, anyhow?

After a moment, he suddenly remembered the Waning Moon Officer was standing rigidly off to the side. He’d forgotten him again so fast! 

“You can sit down, if you like,” he said politely.

The man hesitated and then took a seat on a nearby chair.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” 

He had a nice voice. Not as deep and pleasing as Hua Cheng’s, but it was kind.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he said with a laugh. “I haven’t been a prince in over five centuries. Xie Lian will do.”

“… I dare not,” he said gravely. Xie Lian couldn’t see his face, but he could picture the trepidation.

“Because of what San Lang would say? He’s not here. Please, I’d like to hear my own name again sometime before I forget it.” He saw the man relax a bit.

“Alright… but only if Chengzhu or his clone aren’t in the room.” 

Xie Lian started slightly at the use of that title. He wasn’t lying about being the ruler of this city. He wondered what his people thought of him. Xie Lian had been terribly nervous about all this, terrified of even coming here, but now that he was actually here, he found himself excited to talk to someone new. 

The conversation was touch and go at first, just a few comments between the poems he was reading. Testing the waters. They kept the talk small and easy, but eventually the book of poetry was forgotten. They spoke of little things like the rainy weather and how good the food in the manor was. Yin Yu was a man of few words and very uptight, but eventually he began to ease up and seem more comfortable. Xie Lian was glad he hadn’t lost all his social skills after all. 

“So, do you enjoy working for San Lang? From what I’ve observed, he holds you in high esteem.”

The man glanced around, as if expecting Hua Cheng or his clone to be lurking in a dark corner.

“Chengzhu pays well. I was lucky to be chosen for such a high position.”

“That’s good. This is such a big place; are there many more people working here other than you?” Xie Lian asked.

“Yes, there are cooks, servants, entertainers.”

“Mn. I wonder what they do all day now. Hua Cheng has been stuck in that room with me all this time,” he said sheepishly.

“To be honest, this is the most time Chengzhu has spent here at Paradise Manor. Usually, the staff has nothing to do at all. They appreciate finally being useful, I think,” he said. Xie Lian gaped.

Paradise Manor? Why is this place named like a brothel?!

He really hoped it wasn’t one. He didn’t think he could live in such a place, let alone work there. Not many brothels had a library, though. Regardless, this was surprising to hear. Where did Hua Cheng usually spend all his time then?

“San Lang has been very benevolent in his care for me. I hope I can compensate him for all this somehow,” Xie Lian mused, now concerned there may be no job positions open. Yin Yu shook his head.

“I doubt Chengzhu will ask anything of you. You are his esteemed guest,” he said politely. Xie Lian rubbed at his forehead, an old tic of his that he appreciated having the arm strength for again.

“I really don’t get it, to be honest. I don’t know why San Lang treats me with such… esteem. As I said, I’ve not been a god nor a prince in a very long time.”

The man thought for a moment, or perhaps he was hesitating to voice his opinion. It was hard to tell with the mask.

“I couldn’t tell you,” he said finally. “Not that you don’t deserve respect! I just don’t know what it is that makes you special to him.”

 Xie Lian chuckled and wondered if this man knew his history.

“Well, either way, I’m glad he happened to be the one who stumbled upon me.”

“Well, he certainly didn’t stumble,” Yin Yu mumbled.

Xie Lian gave him a look, and he tensed, like he realized he said something wrong. Xie Lian tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked. He heard the man swallow several times and glance nervously towards the door.

“Oh, I… well, I mean…”

“Go on, it’s alright,” Xie Lian whispered, his eyes also scanning the room for any butterflies.

“Well… I think… Chengzhu went there to find you. I think he kind of hoped he wouldn’t, because you’d be in bad shape if that were the case, but…” 

“You mean, he was looking for me specifically. In the coffin,” Xie Lian clarified, still keeping his voice low.

He could see the sweat forming at the man’s temple and got the impression that he hadn’t meant to divulge any of this but now couldn’t back out of it. Xie Lian hoped Hua Cheng didn’t trust him with too many important secrets.

“It’s not my place to say,” he replied. “I’m making too many assumptions. Forgive me. Forget what I said.”

“I see...”

Xie Lian glanced down at the page of the book but didn’t read anything. His mind was racing, as was his heart.

“I hope your assumption is correct,” he muttered. “It would be nice to know this was more than a lucky accident.”

There was a very long pause, and the silence in the room was palpable. Yin Yu finally broke it with another whisper.

“Please don’t tell him I said this, but… I think he’s wanted to meet you for some time, Your Highness.” 

Xie Lian met his eyes through the mask, scrutinizing. He could detect no dishonesty there. Xie Lian couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face, confused as he was.

“T-then how did… why… how long was he...?”

Xie Lian felt dazed, considering what all this could mean. If this was the truth, why hadn’t Hua Cheng ever said anything about it? Why would he lie? This would change everything he thought he knew about his situation here. The Waning Moon Officer was wringing his hands worriedly.

"How long was he looking for me?" Xie Lian finally asked. Yin Yu sighed.

"Oh, I am going to be fired."

"I promise not to say a word. Just tell me." Xie Lian pleaded softly. The officer finally relented.

“All I can say is that when I first was hired by him a couple centuries ago, he gave me a number of things to report to him if I heard anything. Your name, as well as your aliases, were a part of that list.”

Every time this man opened his mouth, it was like someone punching Xie Lian in the gut. He should probably be worried by these implications. Hua Cheng almost certainly lied because he thought Xie Lian would find it terrifying. Instead, Xie Lian was flattered that anyone was still thinking of him at all. He was elated.

“Could I trouble you for some water?” he asked breathlessly. The man was relieved to have a way out of this conversation.

“Of course. I’ll just be a moment, Your Highness.”

“Xie Lian.”

“Oh, right, apologies… Xie Lian.” 

The man jumped up and practically fled the room. 

Xie Lian took a moment to mull this over. He had rubbed his forehead red. It was strange for Hua Cheng to search for him of all people. Sure, he had been his god once, but he wasn’t any longer. He couldn’t even hear his prayers. Not only that, just being Xie Lian’s friendly acquaintance would probably bring ruin to this ghost’s reputation. Why had he really been brought here to Paradise Manor?

Most people might assume the worst—that this was all some kind of long con—but it's not like he had anything worth taking. Maybe Xie Lian actually was building up a debt that Hua Cheng expected to be repaid in some specific way. Xie Lian certainly wouldn’t mind that. Assuming this wasn’t a brothel, anyhow. 

It was possible the ghost was plotting an elaborate revenge against him for something he did back in the day, for any one of the many consequences of his actions. But then why would he have nursed him back to life? 

For a brief moment, he considered that Hua Cheng could be building him back up just so he could shove him back in the coffin all over again—to start the nightmare anew after he had finally tasted freedom. The thought was terrifying enough to pull the breath from him.

Calm down. Don’t start listing worse-case scenarios.

No. No matter how cunning Hua Cheng was, he couldn’t fake the connection Xie Lian felt between them. An enemy would never have handled him so gently. Hua Cheng couldn't fake how upset he was when Xie Lian had gotten himself hurt, either.

Xie Lian trusted they were genuinely friends.

Even if the ghost did have some kind of ulterior motive in searching for and finding him, he couldn’t believe he had ill intentions. His only real guess was that, because Xie Lian had done him ‘a kindness’ long ago, he wanted to repay him in some way. Maybe he just wanted to thank him properly. Although it mystified him, a new hope grew within him as well.

Yin Yu was taking a bit too long just to grab a pitcher of water and Xie Lian hoped he wasn’t out there having a panic attack. 

As Xie Lian waited, he took a moment to properly appreciate this library. When Hua Cheng was in the room, it was hard not to make him his sole focus, and he had been so interested in speaking with Yin Yu that the room had faded into a blur. As he inspected his surroundings, rather impressed by the craftsmanship and decor, he spotted something curious. 

Under the table by the window was a rather large pile of what looked like wood shavings. It was hard to see from here. Before he had time to wonder what something like that was doing in a library, the door opened.

Yin Yu returned with a tray that had a water pitcher and a pot of tea. He poured Xie Lian some water, and Xie Lian thanked him.

“You really don’t have to worry, by the way. I won’t say anything to San Lang about what you said,” he tried to quietly reassure the man. “Thanks for telling me the truth.”

The man stared at him for a moment and nodded.

“I don’t usually… misspeak like that,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “I guess I just assumed… no, nevermind.”

Xie Lian was starting to wish he could see what was behind this person’s mask. As the man turned away to return to his chair, there was a swish of his tunic’s sleeve, and Xie Lian saw a glimpse of darkness around his wrist. Most people would dismiss it instantly as a tattoo or a tight piece of jewelry, but Xie Lian recognized it at once. 

The same exact brand was around his own neck and ankle.

It then dawned on him for the first time that he had not covered his shackles up once since coming here. The one on his neck was openly displayed, even now. He felt slightly self-conscious and fought the urge to reach up and try to hide it. 

Yin Yu was like him. Disgraced and banished from heaven. Hua Cheng’s favorite assistant had once been a god.

Maybe Hua Cheng would hire him after all.

Hua Cheng stood in the forest clearing, arms crossed and patient. Like a spider in its web. It shouldn’t be long now. It was a warmer day, almost like spring. Faint dappled sunlight filtered down through the trees, melting the morning frost. It didn’t fit the mood at all, which did annoy him. This was supposed to happen last night, but apparently the General was a bit of a procrastinator and proclaimed he would get to it in the morning.

A number of fake, mutilated corpses lay scattered throughout the clearing. A slightly dilapidated shrine sat off to the side, spattered with blood. The latest “witness” had run screaming for the nearest town about an hour ago—a town dedicated to the worship of General Tai Hua. He had been disguised in a more dramatic and feral form. He now looked human again, but he was no less a monster.

He’d been building his little legend for the past two weeks. Lang Qianqiu would not miss this chance to corner the ‘demon’ that was wreaking havoc around here. According to He Xuan, he only appeared himself if he thought it would be a proper challenge. 

What a challenge he would get. 

Hua Cheng was surging with pent up energy—energy that had been building from over a month of anger, helplessness, and inactivity.

The morning had finally come. He demanded blood and satisfaction.

Even now, frustratingly enough, there was some part of Hua Cheng, some little itch in the back of his skull, trying to tell him this was a bad idea. It was far too late. He’d made his decision that night and then again just before leaving. This was going to happen. Hua Cheng could not move on until it happened. If he didn’t do this now, it would plague his thoughts for the rest of eternity. He’d already put in too much work anyway. 

He had the plan, and he had several contingency plans just in case. All his bases were covered. He was about to author one of the world's greatest historical mysteries—the complete disappearance of a martial god—and no one would ever know it was him. Not heaven, and not His Highness.

There was a flash of lightning, and suddenly a glowing figure descended violently into the clearing from the sky above. He landed hard, a small crater beneath his feet.

The man stood upright, his righteous gaze locking onto Hua Cheng at once. Lang Qianqiu had a boyish face, but his eyes were golden, fierce, and reminiscent of a tiger. He slowly drew his oversized greatsword. Lang Qianqiu opened his mouth to say something, but in a puff of red smoke he found himself incapacitated. He had been turned into a budaoweng doll, swaying back and forth on the disturbed earth of the forest floor.

Hua Cheng smiled darkly as he walked over. He crouched down in front of him and gave him a little flick, amused at his wobbling.

“How anticlimactic,” he snickered. He picked up the toy and pulled out his dice. He threw them and caught them in the air as the forest faded from view.

They were now standing in a cave, dark and chilly.

Much better.

Hua Cheng released a few butterflies to light up the tomb. They were deep within the earth, and there was no large exit that could be seen. It was a hidden little pocket in the mountain that no one would ever accidentally stumble upon, but it was not devoid of airflow either. At its center was an ominous black marble coffin.

“You must be wondering why this is happening to you,” Hua Cheng said softly.

The cartoonish figure painted on the gourd-like body of the doll was staring daggers at him, but Hua Cheng couldn’t take that foolish face seriously.

“It's pretty simple. Good old fashioned revenge. You hurt someone important to me, and now you’re going to pay for that.”

He tossed the doll up and caught it with one hand as he strolled around the cave.

“Now I could throw you into this coffin, just as you are. I think you’d be trapped for quite some time. But eventually even you would break out of this spell, or any spell I put on you.” He brought the doll up to his face, making eye contact.

“I don’t intend on letting you leave here for a long time.”

He tossed the doll onto the ground. It rolled in a big circle a few times before eventually swinging upright again.

“Still, I’m a fair man. I’ll give you one shot at me, General Tai Hua, and don’t bother calling your friends for help. This cave is warded against telepathic arrays.” Hua Cheng waved his hand, and with another large puff of red smoke, the doll transformed back into a man. The Crown Prince of Yong’an stood quickly, his face furious and red with indignation.

“I don’t need any help,” the boy growled. The greatsword was still in his hands.

Lang Qianqiu lunged at once.

Hua Cheng’s scimitar flashed in an instant, bouncing that massive blade away like it was made of wood. The man was taken aback, but not discouraged by it. He struck again. Hua Cheng could have finished him in a single move, but he wanted to enjoy this. For a while, he let the man lunge and lunge, wearing himself out. He didn’t even counter with his blade. Instead, he danced around the youth, laughing at him, making sure he knew he couldn’t land a single blow.

“Who are you?” the man asked incredulously as he paused in his relentless attack.

“Someone much older and stronger than you,” Hua Cheng replied lazily. “If you don’t recognize the butterflies, there’s no point in telling you.”

Lang Qianqiu’s eyes flickered up at the glowing creatures, but Hua Cheng did not see the usual fear they inspired in most Heavenly Officials. Then again, he was not old enough to have been there that day.

“I may have heard of them, but I guess you aren’t important enough to remember,” the youth spat. Hua Cheng just laughed.

The man disregarded them and continued his attack. He grew more angry with each heavy swing. Hua Cheng was far too fast for such a predictable weapon. It had two attacks, a vertical swing and a horizontal swing, and both were easy to avoid, even with only one good eye.

“Who were they, then?” Lang Qianqiu huffed in-between strikes. “This person I supposedly hurt? Some rotten ghost causing trouble?”

Just for fun, to teach the boy a little lesson, Hua Cheng let loose a few silver butterflies. The vicious wraiths began to tear into the god, leaving his arms and face covered in gashes. He stumbled back, swinging wildly. His oversized sword kept clipping the sides of the cave, leaving huge gouge marks. Hua Cheng let this carry on for a moment, thoroughly enjoying the show, and then summoned his creatures back. The man paused to catch his breath, his eyes now regarding the butterflies with proper respect.

“Not a rotten ghost,” Hua Cheng sneered. “It was a God, actually.”

Hua Cheng advanced on him now and let his saber take a proper swing, tasting blood from a deep wound in the man’s thigh. He stumbled back, hissing in pain. E-ming was pleased, the eye spinning wildly in delight. Even a knick from The Deadly Scimitar was no small thing, and it was very hard to heal from.

Lang Qianqiu’s face looked pale, but not entirely from getting injured.

“What the hell do you mean? I’ve never harmed another god!” he shouted, his voice echoing against the wall of the cave.

“I beg to differ. You nailed him alive into a coffin and left him to rot.”

Hua Cheng’s eye was aglow with excitement now, and he continued his offensive. The man attempted to counter his blows, but his sword was knocked away each time, nearly out of his hands. Blood spurted from somewhere on the god with each measured strike of E’ming.

Cut. Cut. Cut.

Lang Qianqiu was remarkably good at hiding the pain he had to be in.

“All he did was try to help you and your traitorous family, and that's how you repaid him. You stand where you are now, in all your divine glory, because of him and all he taught you,” Hua Cheng growled as he swung down hard, inflicting a wound on Lang Qianqiu’s shoulder, breaking his pauldron in half. The god winced at that one.

"You should be nothing. You never deserved him." Hua Cheng said coldly as he flicked his blade, sending a splat of blood into the dirt. He lunged again.

“Wait! Wait ! Who?!” the man cried desperately, as he attempted to stay out of E-ming’s reach. Hua Cheng still wasn’t going for the kill. He just kept cutting him. Letting him know the distance in skill between them. Causing pain. The Crown Prince of Yong’an was backed against a wall now, his confusion having tempered his rage from earlier. He didn’t appear as fearful as he probably should, which was irritating.

Too stupid to know better.

“Do you mean the State Preceptor?!” he asked incredulously, his eyes darting to the coffin and back. Hua Cheng had kept a cool smile on his face for most of this charade, but it dropped now, and he let his fury be seen.

“Yes. Your old teacher. The former Crown Prince of Xianle, Xie Lian.”

Before, the boy had looked alarmed and confused, and now he just looked blank.

“The… what?! What are you even saying?”

Hua Cheng, a blurred streak of red, suddenly appeared behind him, and kicked him hard in the center of his back. Lang Qianqiu went sprawling onto the ground, greatsword flung from his hand at last. 

Hua Cheng followed swiftly after him, delivering a heavy kick, instantly cracking several ribs. He kicked again, for good measure, and was rewarded with a yelp from the young man. Lang Qianqiu gasped and coughed and tried to scramble to his feet. Hua Cheng grabbed him by the light brown ponytail and yanked him up, only to throw him across the small cave, as if he weighed nothing at all. He hit the opposite wall with a sickening crack before crumpling over once more. He groaned, trying to roll over and onto his knees.

“You may know him as “The Prince who Pleased God” or “The Flower Crowned Martial God.” Aren’t you supposed to be well educated?” Hua Cheng asked, abruptly conversational again.

The boy was gasping for air, clutching his ribs, face smeared with blood. He pulled himself to his feet finally.

“E-even if he is, that’s just more of a reason for what he did. That makes sense, actually! He got what he deserved! He killed my whole family!” he roared.

“That’s the sad part about all of this.” Hua Cheng said with a sigh. “He actually didn’t. You punished the wrong person.”

“Stop —STOP lying to me! I saw him do it myself!” Lang Qianqiu shouted furiously, his face nearly as red as the blood he was spattered with.

Hua Cheng could hear the pain in his voice, see the tears forming. He didn’t care. He gave a short, mirthless chuckle.

“Foolish child, you have no idea what actually happened. That doesn’t matter now. All that matters to me is how many decades His Highness had to suffer alone, starving and bleeding. Because of you,” he spat.

The boy just stared with wide eyes, as if he couldn’t comprehend anything anymore. Perhaps it was too much to absorb at once.

He’d have plenty of time to think it over in the coffin.

Hua Cheng suddenly appeared right behind him again, jabbing him once with his index finger. The god went rigid, bound by a petrification spell. Hua Cheng stretched his back and cracked his neck.

“I really don’t get why he admires you so much,” Hua Cheng said airily. “If you were smart, you would have sent up an Ascending Fire Dragon already. Too late now.”

He grabbed Lang Qianqiu like he was a sack of rice, throwing him unceremoniously into the coffin. Now the god had fear in his eyes.

As he should.

Hua Cheng could see him straining against the spell. He certainly was willful, he would give him that. All those strikes with E’ming and very few even made him wince. He was tough. Maybe his God had seen some potential in him after all. Hua Cheng sat on the edge of the coffin and looked down at him with a frigid glare.

“Don’t worry, this won’t be forever, but you will suffer at least as long as he did.” 

Lang Qianqiu’s throat was flexing, like he had things he wanted to say. Hua Cheng wasn’t interested.

“I’ve made something special, just for you.” Hua Cheng said cryptically as he pulled out the peach-wood dowel. The boy's eyes grew large.

“This isn’t a normal stake. It actually won’t kill you, even if you want to die. It will keep you alive, no matter what. Even if all your worshipers leave you for disappearing on them. It’s going to act like the cursed shackle His Highness wears. You will feel his hunger and his pain. I want you powerless in the dark, no hope of rescue. Losing grip on reality. I’m not going to tell you how long His Highness was trapped before I finally found him, but I think you can probably guess.”

The god’s breathing had grown harsh, the anticipation growing. Though there was a hint of anger in his fear, tears were leaking from his eyes. In this moment, Hua Cheng could see his Beloved as he had found him. This felt right. He committed this vision clearly to his memory.

Hua Cheng regarded the dowel, freshly forged only last evening.

“A lot of work went into this, you know. It even has the petrification spell built in, so you’ll never be able to pull it out yourself.” He turned it around in his hands, admiring it like it was a fine piece of art. He was pensive for a moment, remembering what it had been made from.

“The truth is, His Highness wouldn’t want me to be doing this. Would you believe, even after all his suffering, he still didn’t hate you. He’s a real God. Merciful, and above such pettiness as revenge.” Hua Cheng gazed down upon the stupid boy trembling in his grave, showing no hint of hesitation or remorse.

“Not me, though. One thing about me, General, is that I never forget and I never forgive. I’ll see you in a few decades.”

With that, Hua Cheng drove the peach wood stake into the god’s heart, no mallet required.

Chapter Text

Things were never going to be easy; this was just something Hua Cheng had to come to terms with. He had expected vengeance to change his mood a great deal, but it really had not. Things would never be the way they had been before he found his Beloved in the coffin. He could never go back.

Even months from now, when His Highness would be more or less back to normal, Hua Cheng would always feel differently than he used to. It was like a little part of him had been torn away permanently—the part that had felt respectable enough to stand at his God’s side. He thought he had finally caught up to him. 

He had no regrets about his revenge, but it also did not magically solve all his problems. It quelled some of that simmering rage, but much of that was still directed inward. For much of his life and subsequent afterlife, he had fantasized about pursuing his God, maybe even marrying him, but the Him who had harbored such bold ambitions now seemed like a stranger.

There were many days when the guilt caught up with him. 

All his past failures compounded, and he remembered that he could have prevented the horrors his God had to face. There were still days when his words did nothing to console His Highness’s frustrations. Evenings when those nightmares returned, and he could do nothing about it but hold his hand. 

Even so, when things became really hard, all Hua Cheng had to do was remember the look on Lang Qianqiu’s face. 

It was usually enough to put him back at ease for a while. He thought of all the unanswered prayers to General Tai Hua, and the monster within him felt pacified. It wouldn’t be long before people started burning temples. He would no longer be a god by the time he left the coffin, and it served him right. 

Hua Cheng wasn’t certain if Lang Qianqiu had ascended through cultivation or pure physical might. If he’d held onto His Highness’s teachings, he’d probably cultivated, but Hua Cheng hoped not. Without cultivation, if he lost all his followers and his godhood, Lang Qianqiu would begin to age again. He might be freed from the coffin as a withered old man, tasting freedom again only long enough to croak. What a lovely thought. Maybe he’d check in after a couple decades and find out.

A full month passed from the day Hua Cheng took revenge for his God.

Over the past few weeks, Hua Cheng had been carrying him all over the manor. These “outings” were to stimulate all his senses and get him used to being in the world again. His Highness spoke with much of the staff and introduced himself. He enjoyed the entertainers Hua Cheng employed, but seemed to prefer the quiet. 

His Highness spent a lot of time in the library, and he enjoyed chatting with Yin Yu. Hua Cheng preferred his assistant to focus on the Gambler’s Den and the city’s security force, but now His Highness was often asking after him. Of course he couldn’t say no. It made Hua Cheng a little jealous, but he also knew his God had been on his own for far too long. 

He needed some friends and friendly faces. Yin Yu too, probably, as he didn’t usually go out of his way to socialize, even on his time off. The two were rather alike, which is why he had liked Yin Yu at once. He was a good man screwed over by Heaven and terrible luck. The two former gods had a lot in common, so it made sense that they got along easily.

The first place Hua Cheng took His Highness, outside of the library, was the back garden. This was now where they had tea most afternoons. Though it was always fairly dark outside, the courtyard was strewn with bright lanterns and the area included a small path over a koi pond. 

On their first walk-through, His Highness had been completely bewitched by everything. He asked Hua Cheng to stop and put him down about every ten feet so he could touch the plants and bushes, trying to recognize them and remember their names. It was still too early in the spring for the real flowers to blossom, but His Highness delighted in everything he saw, regardless. 

It was both sweet to watch and a harsh reminder that the man hadn’t felt the touch of grass for years. It was uniquely heartbreaking, but Hua Cheng had never felt more in love than watching his God fawn over dormant, bloomless plants. 

It was hard not to show it sometimes. It was difficult to resist flirting with him.

He half wanted to strangle himself whenever these rogue passions and temptations came upon him. He had never denied to himself how he felt about his God, but he needed to learn how to temper those feelings now that they were together again. The fact that Hua Cheng was wholly unbefitting aside, His Highness was a man known for remaining single and chaste for his entire life. He needed to keep his expectations realistic, or he’d either go mad or act out of line and scare His Highness away. 

Other than the garden, His Highness’s other favorite place to visit was the armory.

Hua Cheng had actually offered the whole thing to His Highness as a gift, but he thought Hua Cheng was making a joke. If he only knew. If he only knew how many things he had bought and collected just for him. Everything he’d done, all the power and money—it was all for him. The enormity of his devotion was a terrifying thing, even to him sometimes. He did not think a bottom to that particular well even existed.

His Highness spent nearly a full day in the armory the first time he visited, appraising each and every weapon in his collection. 

Hua Cheng told him each weapon’s backstory and how he had gotten his hands on them. His God had a near zealous love for weaponry, despite his generally pacifist nature. To him, a sword was far more than an object to harm with, it was an instrument used for a precious art. Hua Cheng had never forgotten the glorious sight of him on the battlefield. In 600 years, Hua Cheng had never seen another with even a fraction of his talent. By physical skill alone, Hua Cheng knew this man could use any weapon in his armory and defeat anyone in the Three Realms, himself included. 

Hua Cheng deeply longed to see him in action again. His God’s beauty and grace with a sword were what first caught his attention as a child. He was so utterly mesmerized during that parade that he nearly fell to his death. As his God was now, simply holding the heavy weapons took effort. It would be some time before Hua Cheng could ask him to spar.

Most recently, the two of them finally took to using the grand Dining Hall at dinner-time, though in the end Xie Lian preferred a smaller parlor off to the side, one with windows that faced the back garden. It was the same as with the bathing room, and it confused Hua Cheng. He figured, after where His Highness had been trapped for so long, he would hate cramped spaces and prefer to be out in the open. Instead, it seemed to intimidate him.

While Hua Cheng continued to carry His Highness around as needed, they also continued their exercise sessions, which lasted longer and longer every day. As winter faded and the world outside sprang back to life, His Highness improved well enough to attempt walking without leaning on the ghost. They had set certain walking milestones at the beginning, and a month after His Highness’s first trip outside of the bedroom, His Highness met the first one.

The former God took one slow, careful step at a time. Hua Cheng kept a hand on his arm to steady him but not to carry any of the weight. 

His Highness’s appearance was like night and day compared to when he first arrived at Paradise Manor. That wasn’t to say he appeared like his old self yet, but he looked worlds better. His cheeks had filled out some, and he had put some respectable weight on his ribs and abdomen. His legs and arms were still quite bony, but there was lean muscle growing there now, giving him a proper shape. 

His God’s legs trembled under his own weight, and sweat dripped down his forehead, but his teeth were gritted and his eyes were fiercely set on his goal. 

Only a few more steps. 

He made it all the way to the door, and his straining legs finally buckled. Hua Cheng caught him easily, wrapping one of His Highness’s arms around his neck and hoisting him at his waist. His Highness gasped, trying to catch his breath as Hua Cheng guided him back to the bed. 

He’d met his first goal. He could walk all the way to the other side of the room without assistance. It was a pretty large room, so this was a big accomplishment.

Hua Cheng set him down and brought him over a cup of water. His Highness’s hands were shaking too much to take it from him. He sat down next to him and waited patiently for His Highness to recover, one hand resting on his back to keep him steady.

“Well done, gege,” he said. 

His Highness gave him a weak smile and shrugged. 

“I’ll feel it tomorrow. I already feel it in my hips.”

“I suppose that's what progress feels like.” 

Hua Cheng waved his hand for the butterflies to do their thing. No matter how many times this happened, His Highness never seemed to tire of it. No matter how exhausted, he always had a smile for them. He held up one on his hand, gazing at it up close.

“They really are such beautiful little things,” he praised.

“Beautiful and dangerous,” Hua Cheng replied, thinking of all the individuals these pretty little things had torn to shreds. 

“Like you,” His Highness said with amusement in his voice. 

Hua Cheng felt like he had been suddenly hit over the head with a mahogany chair. 

His Highness’s eyes flew open wide, as though realizing he’d said that out loud. Hua Cheng watched his face slowly turn crimson, and he feared for his God’s blood pressure.

“I thank gege for the compliment,” he managed to say, much much smoother than he felt on the inside. 

His Highness didn’t say anything back. He just scratched at his cheek, fascinated by the wardrobe all of a sudden. Hua Cheng tucked that compliment away to obsess over later, suddenly remembering there was something he wanted to ask.

“Gege, would you like to see Ghost City sometime soon?” Xie Lian was pulled away from whatever internal battle he’d been fighting and looked at him curiously.

“You mean, like… walking around?” He asked, hesitant. 

“Eventually. But for the first trip, perhaps we should take a ride. I have a step-litter we can use to take a tour down the main street.” 

He was a little surprised to see the light of excitement enter His Highness’s eyes. Hua Cheng wasn’t sure if His Highness was ready for that yet, but he no longer seemed to take issue going anywhere in the manor, at least.

“I would like that very much! Ah, but maybe… maybe not today. I’m…”

“I know gege is tired. I wasn’t thinking tonight, but perhaps sometime this week when you feel up to it.”

 His Highness nodded and gave him a bright smile, all the awkwardness from a moment ago forgotten.

“It will be loud and hectic,” Hua Cheng warned, “Even riding in the litter.”

“Being in the middle of all that will probably take its toll.” His Highness agreed.

Hua Cheng offered him the water he hadn’t accepted a bit ago, and this time he was able to take it and drink. 

“Being in the crowd will be very different compared to chatting with my staff. You should be certain that you are ready for it. It’s okay if you aren't yet,” he said gently, nudging His Highness’s shoulder with his own. 

His Highness looked slightly pensive as he shook his head slightly.

“I’m probably not, but I have to keep pushing myself. I first hid myself away in this bedroom, and now I’m hiding away in this manor.” He took a deep breath and met Hua Cheng’s eye. 

"Next, I’ll hide away in Ghost City. I think, if I can handle that… it will mean I can handle anything.”

He didn’t state the goal after this—facing the mortal realm. The thought of him leaving gave Hua Cheng a sour stomach. He tried to console himself by remembering that they still had plenty of time left together like this. His Highness had months of recovery left before he’d be able to run off on his own.

The evening arrived when His Highness felt up to seeing the city. They had chosen not to do any heavy exercises so he could save up all his energy. They shared a nice dinner together, and then it was time to get ready. 

Hua Cheng could tell His Highness was feeling worried about being in public. The way his eyes lingered on his skinny arms. The way his fingers roved his own cheekbones unconsciously. 

Truth be told, if one didn’t look too long at his limbs, he looked fairly normal at this point. Still really thin, sure, but not more so than many you might meet on the street, especially in the ghost realm which was full of corpse-like figures. He didn’t appear as though he was on death's door, at the very least. 

His Highness seemed reluctant to get all dressed up, but Hua Cheng insisted. His Highness simply stated that he was in his care. 

Hua Cheng helped him pick out some robes for the occasion. His Highness predictably bee-lined for white robes, but that wouldn’t do—at least not that alone. With some light persuasion, Hua Cheng managed to get His Highness to wear a colorful red and gold inner robe with a high collar to hide his shackle, and a red and black belt and tie. He didn’t fight terribly hard against Hua Cheng’s suggestions and seemed to enjoy having the ghost king doting on him. 

Hua Cheng had realized from the beginning that His Highness  loved to have his hair brushed or washed. Hua Cheng always took his time and let him enjoy it, combing far longer than necessary to remove any tangles. Hua Cheng greatly enjoyed it himself, so it was a win-win. Tonight he styled His Highness’s hair in a high regal bun with a decorative pin and hair crown. His God denied any other finery or jewelry, no matter what Hua Cheng tried to offer, and eventually the ghost gave up. 

His God couldn’t bring himself to dress like the prince he had once been. Hua Cheng was a little sad about that, but he could understand why that was hard for him. He suddenly had a moment of inspiration.

Might as well give it a shot.

“Gege, would you indulge me for one moment?” he asked as he glided over to his wardrobe.

After fishing around, he found what he sought: a ring. Not just any ring, of course. It looked to be made of pure diamond, though it could not be naturally made, of course. He grabbed a fine silver chain from a jewelry box open on top of a dresser and strung it through. He could feel his dead heart kick into action with anticipation. He even thought for a moment that his palms were sweating. 

He walked over and held it out to his Highness on his index finger, trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing.

“How about this one? You like things to be simple and white, right?” he teased. 

His Highness was captivated by it at once, his lovely brown eyes wide and shining. He reached out silently and took it in his hand, examining it in the light.

“Oh… San Lang, this is far too precious.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing is too precious for my God,” he tsked. 

His throat felt rather dry as he waited for the imminent rejection. 

“No pressure, of course. But if you like it…” 

His God tore his focus from the ring and smiled warmly at him.

“Then… I think I’ll wear it.” 

Hua Cheng felt like he was walking on air. He jumped to put it on him, probably too quickly, and he felt slightly foolish. His Highness didn’t seem to notice. Once it was around his neck, His Highness simply grasped onto it, running his thumb along the band. It made the ghost shiver involuntarily.

“This ring gives off a good energy. Thank you very much, San Lang.” 

The softness in his gaze as he peered up at Hua Cheng should have killed him instantly. He certainly had that power in his hands now. Hua Cheng returned the smile, and inside he felt positively sick with happiness. 

Hua Cheng finished off His Highness’s look by adding a bit of golden eyeliner to his lower lash line. He considered decorating His Highness’s forehead as well, but figured he wouldn’t be keen on it for the same reason he had rejected most of the jewelry. He wasn’t interested in looking like the Flower-Crowned Martial God. 

Hua Cheng stood back to admire his work. 

His Royal Highness was radiant, perfect. If Hua Cheng still had breath, it would be stolen away at once. 

The double sleeves of His Highness’s robes kept the thinness of his arms from showing. Even if someone were to see his lower half, his legs were well hidden by the thick material he had chosen. It would still be chilly in the evening, and he didn’t want his highness to get cold, so this was perfect. 

“Would gege like to see?” he asked. His Highness exhaled, his eyes fixated on his hands.

“Not especially,” he said with a short laugh.

“You should see.”

“… fine.” 

Hua Cheng walked over to the dresser and pulled off the large mirror hanging from the wall over top of it. 

Ever since His Highness had been able to walk around a bit, he had avoided looking into it other than a quick glance, usually followed by sulking. Appearing as lovely as he did at this moment, it was the perfect time for him to finally face the mirror directly. Hua Cheng walked in front of His Highness and held it up, just far enough away so that he could see his upper body. 

His God seemed to steel himself, and then those eyes floated upward. He started, his jaw going slack. 

He stared for a long moment, and Hua Cheng could see the hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Not so bad,” he said shortly. 

“Not bad whatsoever,” Hua Cheng said seriously. 

He turned then to replace the mirror. There was a pink tinge to His Highness’s cheeks now, and he could tell he was secretly pleased. Or perhaps relieved was a better way of putting it. 

It was then Hua Cheng’s turn to get ready, but he was done within seconds. Shape-shifting was handy that way. Though he wore a bit more silver finery than normal and braided back his hair for a change, he kept his usual red robes, paired with a black fur-lined cape. He had a similar white one ready for His Highness. Hua Cheng had a reputation as the fierce ruler of this city to uphold, so he didn’t want to dress too lavishly. He wouldn’t want his people to think he had lost his edge. 

His God’s gaze never left him as he finished up, completing his look with a dab of red eyeliner to match His Highness’s. Those golden eyes felt like they were piercing right through him, and he struggled not to glance back.

Beautiful, his God had called him. 

He hadn’t forgotten. An absurd notion, but the casual way he had said it, like it was the most obvious and true thing in the world, made Hua Cheng feel a lot of complicated things he wasn’t ready to sort out. Either way, he was going to coast on this euphoria for a long time. If High Highness truly meant that, he was the only one who would think so. Anyone else knew they were beholding at a monster when they saw one.

He fastened His Highness’s cape and flashed him a cheeky grin. His Highness sighed and raised his left arm, ready to be picked up.

“Very soon you’ll walk on your own gege,” he reassured him. His Highness just nodded as he was scooped up.

They were finally ready to go.

Xie Lian marveled at the front courtyard of Paradise Manor as Hua Cheng carried him through the large front doors and down the steps. He had no idea the whole estate was positioned on the edge of a lake. Their balcony had faced the other way, towards the heart of the city. He had heard the frogs from the back garden, but he thought there was a swamp somewhere nearby.

The step-litter was near the front gate, with four figures waiting to carry them aloft. Xie Lian felt exceptionally heavy in Hua Cheng’s arms, covered in so many layers of woolen clothing. He was too nervous and excited for what was to come to feel awkward about it. He glanced up at the ghost’s face to see him grinning, confident, and happy. To him, that alone was more beautiful than any sights that might await them beyond the gate.

As they grew closer, Xie Lian gawked at their transportation. Those who would be carrying them were golden skeletons. It was so very Hua Cheng. The step-litter itself was lavish and gilded, and lined by sheer red curtains with beaded ornaments and tassels. 

It dawned on him that there would be nothing discrete about this tour. This would be a high-profile affair. 

Like a debut. 

That’s why they were dressed up. 

Xie Lian broke out into a cold sweat. Now he wasn’t sure he was ready to be viewed by so many people. Shouldn’t they have given it another month or so, at least? Wasn’t this far too grand? Even if the vision of himself in the mirror wasn’t nearly as awful as he had been expecting, it still didn’t seem fit for a stage. 

No no, I’ve changed my mind! Take me back actually!

Fight-or-flight kicked in and Xie Lian almost started trying to wriggle out of the ghost’s arms in a panic. Then he peered up at Hua Cheng’s eager face and faltered. The ghost had really been looking forward to this. They’d been talking about it for days. 

Xie Lian couldn’t let him down. He didn’t have many opportunities to feel like he was paying the ghost back for all he did, but here was one. Xie Lian was just going to have to swallow his fears, and try to enjoy the tour, onlookers be damned. 

The skeletons lowered the step-litter as they drew close, and Hua Cheng climbed aboard, setting Xie Lian onto the cushioned seat next to him. Xie Lian was grateful for the curtains. Even if they weren’t opaque, it felt like a protective barrier. The golden skeletons rose as the gate out of the estate opened on its own. As they walked, it was probably the smoothest manned ride Xie Lian had ever been on. It hardly bumped or jostled at all with their carriers’ even steps. 

Once they were settled in, Hua Cheng spoke up.

“Gege… There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Hm? What is it?” 

The ghost’s eye was focused far off in the distance.

“Have you ever heard the name Crimson Rain Sought Flower?” 

Xie Lian thought for a moment and shook his head.

“No, it doesn’t ring a bell. Are they an enemy of yours or something?” he asked. The ghost almost seemed to relax slightly at the comment, and he turned to him with a wry smile on his face.

“It’s a moniker the world gave me. You might hear it if we’re ever out in public.”

“I see… but why only mention this now?” he asked. The ghost paused, his fingers tapping at his knee.

“I suppose I was worried. I didn’t know if you’d already heard of me or not. I don’t have a positive relationship with Heaven and I didn’t want you to distrust me before getting to know me.”

“Mn, you did already say Hua Cheng was a monster that even heaven fears,” Xie Lian reminded him. 

Hua Cheng chuckled at this, but Xie Lian didn’t miss the smug look in his eye.

Xie Lian wondered what atrocities this lovely man had committed to upset Heaven. Probably plenty, knowing well that he harbored a penchant for trickery. The man shape-shifted his own outfit three times a day—who knew what other shapes he took when he was feeling rambunctious? 

A bad reputation wasn’t something that bothered him. Xie Lian wasn’t on the best terms with Heaven either, seeing as he was banished. 

It must be nice to be feared. I’m just a laughingstock.

“Crimson Rain Sought Flower is an interesting title,” he pointed out, hoping Hua Cheng might elaborate.

“It’s a silly story, really. All the Calamities have a name like that, to make them sound more dramatic.”

“Calamities?” he asked. 

Hua Cheng's mouth twitched. Xie Lian tried not to feel embarrassed about his lack of knowledge.

“You know how there are The Four Famous Tales?”

 Xie Lian did; he was one of them after all. 

“I guess people wanted there to be a ghost version. I, the two other Supremes, and a fourth who is only a Wrath are known as The Four Calamities—ghosts of infamy to heaven.” 

Xie Lian was intrigued. Hua Cheng really was a ghost of renown then, not just a Chengzhu of the ghost realm. Every time he was beginning to think he knew the man, he learned something new and astounding. 

“So then, who are the other three calamities?”

“The other extant Supreme is called Ship-Sinking Black Water. He keeps to himself mostly, and sleeps a lot. The Wrath named himself Night Touring Green Lantern. He’s not really powerful—just tasteless, meddlesome, and hard to kill.” 

He seemed to pause then.

“And the Supreme who is no more?” Xie Lian asked, suddenly apprehensive of the abrupt and dangerous change in Hua Cheng’s demeanor.

“You’ve met him. He caused the fall of Xianle,” he said quietly. “The White-Clothed Calamity .” 

Xie Lian froze, an image springing to mind of that horror in white—the one thing in the world he feared more than being shoved back into a coffin. Xie Lian had to fight the impulse to grab the ghost's hand and instead he clenched his hands together in his lap, hoping to keep them from shaking. He swallowed thickly.

“I- I see,” he managed to say, focusing forward as they entered the city proper. He hoped Hua Cheng didn’t notice his minor panic, but it was doubtful. Hua Cheng never missed anything. 

“Sorry to bring him up.” 

“Don’t be. I asked. Anyhow, it was a long time ago.” 

He shuddered. So that's what he was. A Supreme. At the time, he must have been the only one in existence—the first of any of them. He marveled now at Hua Cheng. This ghost was on par with that thing. Heaven probably did fear him. 

It was then that he felt the ghost's cool hand rest on top of one of his clenched fists. Hua Cheng didn’t try to pull the hand away or anything, he merely gave it a gentle squeeze. Xie Lian wanted to twist his hand around and hold his hand back, but that didn’t seem proper to do in this particular setting. 

These considerations were interrupted as the step-litter entered the crowd, and the citizens of Ghost City started to take notice. 

The city was bustling, as it always seemed to be. Xie Lian was bathed in the red light he had always viewed from above, cast from hundreds of red lanterns strewn up the long main street. Ethereal, ghostly music filled the night, along with the cacophony of thousands of voices. The street was decked with colorful signs and banners, and on every corner were folks busking or offering questionable services. 

“Chengzhu! It’s Chengzhu!” They all called, laughing and pointing, drawn from all over to see their lord passing through. Xie Lian could tell at once that Hua Cheng was admired by his citizens. 

They were a strange crowd, most wearing masks, some human, and some not. Folks were leaving their stands and stalls, which were advertising some truly bizarre specialty foods. All the spectators around them were pushing forward, bowing and welcoming, offering up treats and gifts. 

Hua Cheng paid them no mind and made no move to reach down or accept anything. Eyes were also on Xie Lian, and he could hear the clamor of their questions and gossip.

“Who is that? Riding next to our Chengzhu?!”

“An important guest?”

“Has he taken a wife?”

“It’s too hard to see in!”

“What makes him so special?”

Xie Lian could feel his cheeks heating, so he turned from the crowd outside and focused on Hua Cheng. He seemed perfectly comfortable, like this was just another day. Even at his height as a prince, Xie Lian had always felt a bit odd in such situations. As if noticing Xie Lian’s discomfort, Hua Cheng gave his hand another gentle squeeze.

“Relax gege. Just enjoy the view.”

It was only then that Xie Lian realized his hand had never left the top of Xie Lian’s. Considering that it seemed no one could look in and see, Xie Lian finally dared open his fist and twist his hand to hold Hua Cheng’s. 

He saw the ghost’s smile widen in his periphery and Xie Lian looked determinedly away. He didn’t let go though either. Holding his hand gave him the courage to get through this. He managed to resist intertwining their fingers.

The view down here was certainly amazing, especially the wide variety of ghosts and demons, some tiny enough to fit in his hands and others taller than the step-litter. As they passed by certain places, Hua Cheng would point them out and explain their significance. Which restaurants and stalls were safe for a human to eat at. Which ones were actually brothels. So on and so forth.

They came to one of the largest buildings on the entire street, which Xie Lian recognized from the balcony. It was a grand affair, palatial, and bright red. Xie Lian guessed at once.

“Your gambling den?” he asked. Hua Cheng hummed, clearly proud of it.

“That’s right.”

“It is rather impressive.” 

Xie Lian wanted to go in and see it all, but of course he didn’t want to be carried in public. 

“This whole city was built around it. It was the first thing I established. The start of everything.”

As the step-litter grew closer, he was able to see what was written on a set of couplets on the two pillars by the entrance. Well, he should be able to read it, in theory. It wasn’t a script he recognized. 

Maybe a dead language? 

All he could tell was that they gave off an incredibly hellish aura. He was tempted to ask Hua Cheng what they said, but he wasn’t actually sure he wanted to know.

The step-litter continued down the road. All the way, a large crowd followed them. Xie Lian got used to blocking them out for the most part. As they reached near the end of the main drag and turned, Xie Lian realized they hadn’t seen the other large building he had wondered about from the balcony. 

It didn’t seem like their tour was going to include the street it was on, as it seemed to be on the edge of town on the other side. It always stuck out to him because he could recognize the heavy influence of Xianle architecture. Also, the lanterns hung there were stark white, and not red like the rest of the city. It was magnificent from afar, and he had hoped to see it up close.

“Hey San Lang, what's that large building over there on the other side? The one we always see from the balcony with the white lights?” 

He pointed in its approximate direction, though they couldn’t see it from here. He was a bit dismayed that they wouldn’t pass it on this tour, especially because it was the only building even larger than the gambling den. It seemed so important.

“Nothing much, gege, just something I built for fun a long time ago. I have yet to put it to good use.” 

Xie Lian was taken aback. The biggest structure in the city… was empty and useless?

“Really? It looked so amazing. I thought for sure it must be a city hall or a second home, maybe even a dance hall or something like that.” 

Hua Cheng laughed and shook his head. 

“One day I will find its purpose. If you ascend again, perhaps I will make it your temple.” Xie Lian gaped at him. 

“San Lang… I’ll never be a god again, certainly not one deserving of such a resplendent place of worship.” 

Hua Cheng frowned at him and ran his thumb gently over Xie Lian’s.

“Never say never, gege. You have already ascended twice. If anyone could ascend a third time, it would be you. I believe it will happen again.” 

Xie Lian stared at him, quite touched by his level of faith in him, even now after all this time. 

“We have met before, haven’t we?” Xie Lian asked finally. “I feel terrible that I can’t remember. It seems impossible that I could forget someone like you.” 

Hua Cheng stared back for a spell, as if weighing his options. 

Xie Lian then remembered that ghosts shed their earthly identity when they passed over. To ask who he had been in life was dreadfully rude. 

“Oh! Uh, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that. Forget I said anything!” he said quickly. Hua Cheng smiled gently and looked off into the city.

“We have met, but you wouldn’t recognize me. Not compared to how I looked back then. You don’t need to worry. We weren’t close, and I was no one of any prestige or importance.” 

“That doesn’t seem right. Look what you’ve become.” Xie Lian laughed, sweeping his arm at the massive crowd of people following and cheering and trying to get his attention. 

“Mn, I’ve made something of myself with my afterlife. All I managed to accomplish in my mortal life was to reach the age of seventeen. The only moments worth remembering were those in which I was able to meet you, brief as they were.”

There was a long stretch where neither of them said anything. Xie Lian felt like he’d been doused in cold water. 

The sweet sentiment aside, his heart was racing as he considered all the things that might have taken Hua Cheng’s young life. It was something he had avoided thinking about these past few months. Hua Cheng was from Xianle and he had been one of his believers during that tumultuous time. He couldn’t bear to imagine Hua Cheng’s death and it was much simpler to leave it as some vague and formless concept.

Only seventeen years old. It was odd that Hua Cheng appeared a bit older than that in his true form. The two of them had met, though, when he was still alive. He’d met him on multiple occasions, apparently. Was he someone who worked in the palace? 

This is going to drive me mad!

He didn’t want to pester Hua Cheng further, but not knowing was beginning to eat him alive.

“It wasn’t… the plague… was it?” He finally asked, terrified of the answer but needing to hear it.

He just needed to know this. They were nearly back to the manor by this point and much of the crowd had thankfully dispersed.

“No gege. I was around it a lot, but I was unable to catch it.” he stated. 

Xie Lian glanced over, caught off guard. 

“You were immune? Are you sure?”

“I was assisting in the Buyou quarantine camps, so, yes.” 

Xie Lian’s eyes widened.

Is THAT where we met?! What would drive a young boy to help in such a place?

“I see… how incredibly brave of you to risk your own health,” Xie Lian said, awestruck.

Hua Cheng simply shrugged. 

“I wanted to feel like I was doing something.”  

Xie Lian thought for a moment. He shouldn’t ask. He shouldn’t. But seventeen years old? After another stretch of silence, he gave in to his nosiness. 

“Can I ask an odd question? It might be intrusive.” Xie Lian finally asked, all caution thrown to the wind.

“Ask anything you like,” Hua Cheng said with a cheerful smile.

“When you were alive… did you ever take the life of another?” 

Hua Cheng raised an eyebrow.

“I was a soldier. It was a bit unavoidable.”

Understanding set in, and Xie Lian was struck by a wave of nausea. He actually had to make an effort not to throw up, though the burn of bile rose up in his throat. 

That was how they had met. Hua Cheng had been one of his soldiers. Hua Cheng had been a teenage soldier devotee in the army he had led to defeat. His heart ached. It was like someone had ripped his chest wide open and left him to bleed out. That had to be how he'd died, right? If not the plague, what else could have killed him so young?

He wished he could take back asking. 

Xie Lian wanted to cry, but he didn’t want Hua Cheng to regret telling him anything. He closed his eyes until the stinging at the corners of his eyes went away. 

Somehow, he managed to stay composed.

“Your Highness has nothing to feel bad about,” Hua Cheng said gently. “I lied about my age so I would be able to fight. It was the only chance I was going to have for an honorable death, and as you can see, my afterlife has been far more gratifying.” 

Xie Lian opened his eyes and finally dared to meet his eye again.

“You might have been just as successful if you lived to be an actual adult,” he said, feeling deeply upset. Hua Cheng waved his other hand dismissively.

“No. I had been told by several fortune-tellers that I would die very young. I’d rather die in battle than from tripping over my own feet and hitting my head or something,” he said with a laugh. “I had unusually bad luck in life, but I have no regrets about my death. I lasted all the way till the end of the very last battle.” 

Xie Lian could hear pride in his voice, but he was struggling to see any positives to this. His death aside, what an awful way to live! Hua Cheng had spent his whole childhood waiting for the inevitable. It made sense why he wasn’t afraid of catching the plague. Even if Hua Cheng would have died somehow anyway, and even if he had made something of himself after death, Xie Lian couldn’t help but grieve for him. There was no denying that it was ultimately his fault. That was a pill almost impossible for him to swallow. 

My failures killed Hua Cheng.

He had not been able to prevent the war, and he had not been able to win it either. He didn’t want to sour what was left of this trip, but he really couldn’t handle this. He wanted to be somewhere private so he could fall apart. 

The step-litter reached the front gate of the manor, and it opened. Xie Lian was relieved to be back. He was surprised to find that this place had begun to feel like a home. Had anywhere felt like that since Xianle? As he felt that relief hit, he realized he had an iron grip on the ghost’s hand, and forced himself to loosen it.

“I suppose the conversation got a bit heavy at the end, but I hope gege still enjoyed seeing the city,” Hua Cheng said. “Next time we will be able to walk around, and you can see inside some of the shops.” 

Xie Lian nodded but couldn’t bring himself to be excited. 

He thought of how cheerful they’d been at the start of this tour, when all that worried him was being seen by the crowd. Hua Cheng had been so excited to show him around. He needed to pull himself back together. He should focus on who the ghost was now, not who he had once been. 

Xie Lian bravely plastered on a smile and turned to the ghost.

“San Lang… You should know, I have no problem with you being Crimson Rain Sought Flower. I don’t mind if you are a thorn in heaven’s side, either. You shouldn’t worry about that.”

A wicked grin flashed across the Ghost King’s face, making Xie Lian smile genuinely.

“Gege knows Heaven is full of shit,” he quipped. Xie Lian laughed.

“I just mean, I wouldn’t judge you as a person based on what others think. From everything I’ve seen, Crimson Rain Sought Flower is a generous person and well-loved by his people. He has shown me great kindness and care, and I hope one day I can find a way to repay him.”

I’ll find a way to make up for my failures.

The step-litter was lowered to the ground. Hua Cheng turned to him, those dark eyes glittering through the twilight. His expression was serious.

“In my… frankly miserable few years of life, Your Highness was one of my greatest sources of hope. Even if I died young, I only lived as long as I even did because of you. You owe me nothing, Your Highness. I am repaying you .” 

Xie Lian’s breath hitched. He thought suddenly about what Yin Yu had said—about Hua Cheng searching for him. Was all this really because he wanted to repay a perceived debt? Xie Lian wanted to be relieved by his words, but nothing could lift the heaviness of his soul knowing this man died in his name. He wanted to shake him by his shoulders and shout at him until he understood that Xie Lian wasn't worth it.

“San Lang. Even if I did you ‘a kindness’ back then, as you say... even if I said something that gave you some hope... a-all that you’ve done for me now… you’ve overpaid. No— you already paid. You should have just forgotten me back–”

“I could never forget you,” Hua Cheng cut in sharply, the weight of the world in his voice. 

Xie Lian blinked. 

For a second, it felt like he’d had this conversation before, but he lost it like a dream that slips through your fingers upon waking. Someone had definitely said those words to him long ago. Oh, he wished he could picture their face.

Hua Cheng gave him a soft look, and then he reached over to pull Xie Lian into his arms. 

Xie Lian was thunderstruck by his actions and their sudden closeness, and he almost yelped. For a moment, he thought he was going to... until he realized Hua Cheng was picking him up to bring him down from the litter. Then he felt incredibly stupid about his reaction. He hoped the ghost didn’t notice. It was so dark, maybe he couldn't see the blush.

He hoped Hua Cheng couldn’t feel his heart pounding against him the entire walk back up to the manor.

How deplorable I am to still feel this way now.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian had yet to remove the ring necklace Hua Cheng had put on him the night of their first Ghost City adventure. 

A couple months had passed, a brief spring finally pushing towards a balmy summer. Even now as he strolled through the markets with Hua Cheng, the ring lay under his inner robes and out of sight, resting right against his heart. Hua Cheng hadn’t made a move to retrieve the necklace, and Xie Lian hadn’t felt compelled to return it either. It was almost like an unspoken agreement between them. He didn’t even take it off to bathe. 

Xie Lian didn’t know the significance of this ring, but he knew it was important—he knew it from the moment he laid eyes on it. That's why he agreed to wear it. He hoped, when that fateful day finally arrived, he would be permitted to leave with it. Then it would always feel like there was a little part of Hua Cheng with him and he wouldn’t be quite so alone.

As they milled about the various market stalls, his eyes subconsciously sought out scrap and leavings that, in the mortal realm, he might have tried to collect and resell. As he realized what he was doing, he had the sudden thought that, if he wanted to, if he needed to, he actually could now leave. 

If thrown into the streets, he could at least survive. There was some relief in knowing that.

Xie Lian had mastered most of his fears about being around others, and his strength was improving by leaps and bounds. It had been a horribly slow start, but every day he could push himself much further than before. He didn’t feel fully normal yet, but he finally felt okay. Though that first trip around so many other people had been difficult, Xie Lian was growing more accepting of his appearance. He was still terribly frail and thin, but he could recognize himself in the mirror once more. 

It was beginning to feel like his body again.

Almost everyday, like today, Xie Lian and Hua Cheng took walks together. They were short ones—nothing especially arduous. Usually they strolled through the garden or around the lake, but sometimes, to push himself a little bit, Hua Cheng would use those odd dice to instantly transport them somewhere within Ghost City. 

Though in the beginning he’d had to lean on the ghost, holding onto his arm for balance, they’d continued this out of habit even as his strength grew. He no longer needed the support; he just continued to do it absentmindedly and because the ghost always offered his arm. He wasn’t going to say no. At this point, Xie Lian was basically pulling the ghost around by the arm, dragging him from stall to stall. 

The wares here were very different from what he was used to—especially the food. Xie Lian did his best to remain non-judgmental, even though it was apparent that some of these tasty treats were made from human flesh. Hua Cheng politely indulged all his curiosities, endlessly amused by his enthusiasm and his need to see absolutely everything. 

Hua Cheng’s mere presence in public had an effect of both drawing in a crowd, and keeping them at a very respectful 5-6 foot distance at all times. They would always be hounded at first, but when the ghost king got fed up enough, he’d shout “SCRAM ” and they’d all scatter away like mice. They never seemed to take offense, however. They’d always be back again next time.

The citizens of Ghost City had noted their Chengzhu’s use of the name ‘gege’ for him, and so they began calling Xie Lian their “Grand Uncle.” Though Hua Cheng seemed irritated by it, Xie Lian found it kind of wholesome and charming. The two were a regular sight in the street markets now, and Xie Lian was used to all the attention they got. During these outings into the city, he often heard the gossip in town about the two of them. Many suspected they were lovers, and some even followed them around, trying to catch them in an intimate moment. It certainly didn't help that if Xie Lian dared show even a modicum of interest in an item, Hua Cheng would buy it on the spot. He was really too generous sometimes. 

Hua Cheng was currently walking around with several packages under his arm, determined that Xie Lian not return to the manor without a few goodies. Most of them Xie Lian hadn’t even voiced his opinion on—Hua Cheng just saw him staring in admiration and bought it after he’d moved on. Today it was a painted fan, a long white silk hair ribbon, and a little tray of mantou, which they were sharing as they walked. 

Xie Lian had eaten one, but was unable to finish the second. His stomach was still quite shrunken, even after five months. Of course, for most of the past few centuries, he had subsisted on scraps. Maybe his stomach was actually back to normal. Out of habit, he went to stuff the remainder into the arm of his robe for later, but Hua Cheng gently caught his wrist before he could.

“Not necessary, gege. You can ask for fresh mantou anytime,” he said cheerfully.

Then he leisurely plucked the half-eaten mantou from Xie Lian’s hand, and met his eyes as he took a shameless bite right from where he had been nibbling. 

Xie Lian’s breath hitched at this indirect kiss, and he looked down quickly, unsure what reaction was correct. He settled for focusing on the collection of decorative knives in front of him as Hua Cheng finished the bun in just a few bites. Most of the time, things were easy and comfortable between them, but then, out of nowhere, Hua Cheng would do something like this and put him in a state. 

Does he even know what he’s doing? Wasn’t that awfully… suggestive? Am I just bad at reading people or is he just bad at being normal? 

He could already hear folks whispering in the distance about it and knew it would be the fresh new gossip about their lord and his mysterious “friend”. Sometimes he wondered if Hua Cheng could already tell how he felt. Was he perhaps just teasing him for fun? He didn’t think the ghost king would do such a thing, but he was so playful that sometimes his sincerity became rather difficult to judge.

 Hua Cheng was a truly confounding man and Xie Lian really couldn’t understand how his mind worked. Sometimes his believer could hardly look at him, as if he were unworthy to stand in Xie Lian’s grace, and the next he was giving him a look so smoldering and personal that Xie Lian could hardly breathe. 

The man who called him Your Highness and the man who called him gege, fighting for dominance, it seemed.

Though the rumors about them were preposterous, they were validating too. Xie Lian knew their friendship was not really a normal one, and those who observed them had noted it too. While Xie Lian was certainly guilty of impulsively taking Hua Cheng’s arm or accidentally walking so close that their shoulders bumped, Hua Cheng was equally guilty of such things.

Sometimes, the things the ghost king did could easily be read as flirtatious, and it was just as frustrating to Xie Lian as it was their ghostly entourage.

As they finished their walk, they came to stand at the front of the infamous gambler’s den. Xie Lian had long been very curious about it, but Hua Cheng had always said it would be best to wait until Xie Lian was in better shape, as there was no telling what might happen there. Hua Cheng turned to him.

“I know you are probably worn out for the day, but how about next time we come here for our walk?” 

Xie Lian beamed up at him. This meant he was finally ready. 

“I’d love to!” he said, squeezing Hua Cheng’s arm in response. Hua Cheng chuckled at his excitement.

“It’s a pretty rowdy place, gege, far more so than the markets.”

“I understand! I’ll be fine,” Xie Lian replied happily.

“You will probably see things you won’t like,” He continued. “People bet things you wouldn’t imagine—their own body parts, their family members…” Xie Lian was horrified at the prospect but also just a little bit fascinated. 

“And you really accept such bets?”

“Did I not tell you, gege? I am a bad man. It’s my job to accept such bets. These are the rules I set, and I must abide by them.” 

That was fair.

“Please don’t misunderstand—I wasn’t trying to chastise you or anything,” Xie Lian said quickly, raising his hands up. Hua Cheng waved it away.

“No worries. Besides, if someone bets something especially heinous, so much so that even I don’t like it, they aren’t likely to win anyhow.”

“So then, you cheat?”

“No, luck is just always on my side,” he said with a wicked grin. 

Xie Lian believed it. He had seen Hua Cheng roll those distance-shortening dice many times, and it was always a pair of sixes. His luck was obscene. The exact polar opposite of his own. It was almost comical. 

“I see. San Lang, how did you even become so fortunate? I can’t roll more than a two.” Xie Lian said with a huff.

Hua Cheng gave him a sympathetic look.

“I mentioned before that my luck in life was rotten. That changed after I became a Supreme. It was a state of being that I fought very hard for and it took many years of struggle. A fight for survival, really.” 

The look in his eye as he said this was like steel. Xie Lian couldn’t imagine what he might have put himself through to reach such heights. How does one even become a supreme, anyhow? Hua Cheng pulled his red dice out. Even as he unfurled his fingers, the two dice in his hand were already sixes.

“I wanted to become the opposite of all the things I used to hate about myself, my rotten luck included. I don’t know if I willed it out of spite, or if I unknowingly cultivated it, but good fortune just seemed to be at my command after that. It just seemed to pour into me.” 

“Well, if how lucky you are now is how unlucky you were in life, we probably had a lot in common at one point,” Xie Lian said with a sad little sigh. “I’m sorry you had such a hard life. Fate can be cruel. Such a shame that we can't fight it.” 

Xie Lian’s mind began to drift back to that time, when fate seemed to directly opposed his every move.

Hua Cheng tilted his head, a haughty expression on his face. 

“I think it can be fought. I think, if you really want something badly enough, you can make it happen, regardless of fate. You just have to be stubborn enough to fight for eternity if you have to. Never give in.”

There was a vicious light in his eyes that made Xie Lian shiver. Hua Cheng was probably the only being stubborn enough to attempt that and win in the end. It didn’t seem like there was anything that the ghost couldn’t do.

Xie Lian watched him throw those dice, and a second pair of sixes landed in his palm. The city around them faded from view.

The next day passed surprisingly swiftly, and the evening that they were to visit the Gambler’s Den arrived.

The two of them got dressed properly, and before he knew it, those dice had been thrown yet again. The pair appeared somewhere new, but no less red. Well, red was supposed to be the color of good fortune. 

The gambling hall below was magnificent and far larger than Xie Lian had been expecting. It was extravagant, but just like Hua Cheng, still tasteful. The main floor packed itself wall to wall with gamblers and onlookers crowding around various long tables, though none as long as the one in front of them. Of course they weren’t in the crowd; they were in a small area at the front, separated from the main hall by stairs leading up to a red silk screen curtain. 

The moment they appeared, someone cried “CHENGZHU!” and suddenly all eyes shot up to them as cheers rang out. Xie Lian did not miss the cries of “Grand Uncle is here too!,” and though a gambler’s den was the last place someone with his luck should enter, he could not remember the last time he felt so welcomed to a place he’d never been. 

For the first half hour or so, they simply observed the happenings going on from behind the red curtains. They lounged in a pair of comfortable chairs and chatted, watching the crowd gamble. He was surprised at how many living humans made it to this place in hopes of changing their lives. How did they all even know how to get here?

Hua Cheng hadn’t been lying about it being a rowdy place either. Xie Lian had only been there for about fifteen minutes before someone lost their writing hand. Within that first half hour, he witnessed at least three fights break out between gamblers, some with collateral damage to the nearby furnishings. Hua Cheng did nothing but lazily put a finger to his temple. Suddenly, four bouncers jumped to action and escorted the troublemakers out.

People bet many odd things other than money—years of their lives, firstborn children, you name it. Each win or loss was accompanied by an eruption of cheers or booing. Each wager made at the main table was vetted by Hua Cheng, and he was a shrewd head of house, to say the least. 

Xie Lian had not yet seen this side of him before. 

Sure, he knew the man was a Calamity, a Ghost King, and a Chengzhu, but he had never seen him act so harshly and contemptuously before. He was authoritative when they were hounded in the market, but this was a bit different, and the crowd ate it up. Xie Lian didn’t dislike this crass and domineering side of him, but it was surprising to see all of the sudden. He had to keep reminding himself that he had much yet to learn about who this ghost was outside of Paradise Manor.

He had come to understand that the Hua Cheng he was lucky enough to know was more of a hidden side. Once they began their public excursions, he'd noticed a natural coldness often sunk into Hua Cheng's expression when he regarded others. He wore this expression now as he looked down upon those who were crowded below. Every time Xie Lian spoke up, however, a soft, subtle smile would find its way through, and Xie Lian's heart would flutter at the reaction. Whenever Hua Cheng would glance over, that stony mask would fall away completely, and Xie Lian was treated to a warmth that was offered only to him.

Once Xie Lian had adapted to the boisterous atmosphere, Hua Cheng asked if he would like to go down and observe the game up close. He nodded. The two of them parted the screen curtains and stood atop the rather tall and steep flight of stairs.

By now, Xie Lian had to imagine the citizens of Ghost City knew he was in fairly weak health. They’d watched him curiously and occasionally concernedly in those early days when he had to lean heavily on Hua Cheng. They were always offering him a place to sit, if he needed it. He had no idea what kind of rumors surrounded the state of his health now, but he was going to give them something new to talk about tonight. He took the first step himself, and Hua Cheng followed.

Xie Lian’s calves burned, as did the joints in his knees and ankles, but he said nothing and refused to take the ghost’s arm as they descended. For one, he didn’t want to hear the jeers that would certainly cause. Secondly, he wanted to show that he was stronger than they probably assumed. He did feel a subtle bump of Hua Cheng’s elbow—a silent offering if he needed it. It was tempting, but Xie Lian’s pride had surged up from wherever he usually kept it buried. 

These were the first stairs he’d had to tackle, but he would tackle them head on. It was just more exercise he sorely needed. By the time they reached the bottom, his legs felt dangerously undependable, but they did not give in on him. He’d broken out into a sweat, but he made a strong effort not to appear out of breath.

No one took notice of his discomfort, but Hua Cheng had to know he was hurting. He glanced up only briefly, but didn’t miss the silently proud look on Hua Cheng’s face. The croupiers standing there bowed, and the crowd parted for them as they reached the table. Xie LIan was secretly grateful he could now lean against it and still look natural.

“Is Chengzhu here to gamble?” someone shouted excitedly. Hua Cheng seemed to consider it.

“Not sure,” he said lightly. 

“Hey! Does Grand Uncle want to make a wager?” asked another, a frog ghost Xie Lian recognized from the market. 

“Oh, my luck is actually terrible. I-I wouldn’t dare,” Xie Lian said with a short laugh. Hua Cheng snorted.

"Nonsense, gege, why don’t you just try it?” he coaxed. Cheers rang out from all directions.

“C’mon Grand Uncle! Play a round!” 

“Your luck can’t be that bad!”

Well… What's the harm? he thought. What else had he even expected in coming here?

“What should I ask for?” he asked, scratching his cheek absentmindedly.

“Well, what do you want?” Hua Cheng asked.

Xie Lian could feel gravity in that question. 

A great number of improper things popped into his head, certainly none of which he wanted to ask for publicly. He thought for a long moment. What he really wanted, what was achievable, was to stay near Hua Cheng. To be able to truly call Ghost City his home.

“I want… the option to work at this gambling den, if I should so choose,” he finally asked. 

The crowd was stunned at first, and then suddenly they were in an uproar of laughter and cheers. He heard someone say, “He really just asked him for a job?! ” The moment he asked, he suddenly remembered that he was almost certain to lose, and he felt his stomach drop. It looked like there was a mixture of things going on in Hua Cheng's eye as he considered it, but ultimately he was inscrutable. 

“And what does gege wager for this opportunity?” he asked in return.

 Xie Lian hadn’t even considered this. It’s not like he had much to offer—certainly nothing material. Everything on him the ghost had given him. Coin didn’t matter here anyway, though, did it?

“How about… a favor in the future?” 

Hua Cheng smiled at that, his eyes making a crescent, looking exceedingly fox-like.

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll go first.” 

Hua Cheng took up the black dice cup and did three elegant swirls before placing it down on the table. He paused for just a moment, focused on Xie Lian. The crowd was dead silent. He lifted the cup to reveal a six and a five. The crowd exploded, naturally. Xie Lian was a bit confused—he'd never seen Hua Cheng roll less than two sixes. 

“Our Chengzhu’s luck just can’t be beat!” someone shouted. Hua Cheng smiled pleasantly as he passed the black dice cup over. 

“Your turn.” 

Well, at least now it was technically possible to win against him. For someone else, anyhow.

Xie Lian rolled his eyes in amusement. What was even the point? He took it from him and sighed. Then he had a sobering thought. If two ones came up, didn’t that mean he absolutely couldn’t work here? Maybe he should back out and just ask him for the job outright. 

Hua Cheng must have noted his apprehension because he felt his cool, reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t be scared, gege. Just relax. Have fun.” 

And just like that, he didn’t feel quite so worried. It’s not like losing would mean he would have to leave Ghost City or something. He nodded and gave the cup a few clumsy shakes. 

The ghost’s hand was suddenly under his—

“Gege, not like that. This is the proper technique.” 

Hua Cheng’s hands settled lightly over his while holding the cup’s top and bottom. He gently moved both their hands in a small, rhythmic circle. Xie Lian knew he must be blushing; where their skin made contact felt like it was burning up. It was subtle, but through the ghost’s hands, it also felt like he was being flooded with some kind of energy—it was not spiritual energy, but it was… something. Something odd and utterly foreign to him.

He tried his best not to look at the crowd’s reaction to this display. The tension seemed palpable, and he could tell they were just barely holding their tongues. No wonder there were so many rumors. 

Hua Cheng gently removed his hands and let him give the dice a swirl on his own. He did exactly as the ghost king had so graciously taught him and placed the cup down. He paused, much as Hua Cheng had, to build up the suspense. Hua Cheng was gazing at him with a knowing expression. 

Xie Lian grinned and lifted the cup to reveal two sixes. 

The hall went wild. He knew he should have expected this. He knew that, somehow, Hua Cheng had just shared his luck with him. And yet to see those two sixes pop up on his behalf after so many years of horrible luck, it almost brought a tear to his eye. 

“Congratulations gege. You beat me,” Hua Cheng said in a low voice, nearly lost in the crowd. Xie Lian laughed, knowing well that he won only because Hua Cheng had allowed it. 

This was simply his way of telling him yes —if he really wanted to, he could work here. Xie Lian felt a rush of relief far stronger than he had expected. Now at least he had his foot in the door. He had a proper connection to Ghost City, a place he could now properly call home, even if he didn’t stay at the manor. 

It was a surprising thing to realize he wanted this. To realize that he actually felt more like he belonged in this chaotic place than in Heaven or the mortal realm. While he was still keening to visit the mortal realm and see what all had changed, this was the place he wanted to always return to. 

A place that had welcomed him.

This one round was all the gambling the two of them did. After scoring himself a potential future job, they simply wandered around the table, watching others make their bets. 

To Xie Lian, this was far more entertaining than placing wagers himself, even if he often found himself greatly disgusted by the things people sometimes offered up. Well, it's not like they didn’t understand where they were. It was their choice to make, and their consequences to suffer.

Though most of the evening spent here was fun and exciting, Xie Lian’s bad luck did eventually find its way back to him after all this time. It was inevitable.

It began as a wager between two humans at the table—they both happened to be rivals in the same trade who were formerly partners. Naturally, they both asked for the destruction of each other’s respective businesses. One man was big, burly, and bald, wearing a grim porcelain bull mask. The other was a thin, reedy man with a goatee, his face fearlessly exposed. The lanky one was standing in front of Xie Lian when the dice cup lifted, and he was declared the winner.

The man who lost did not do so with grace. After shouting a few foul insults and hearing the winner’s sharp rebuttal, the sore loser then grabbed one of the unused wooden stools under the lip of the gambling table and whipped it across the table at the winner’s face. This man just so happened to be as dexterous as his rival was strong—he dipped down at once, and that stool instead came flying directly at Xie Lian’s face. 

Now normally, if Xie Lian had been his old self, he would have flicked that stool away like it was nothing. But Xie Lian was not his old normal self; he was a weak, pathetic self who had not recovered his reflexes. He could only watch it in slow motion as it threatened to break all his front teeth and more. 

A flash of red sleeve in front of him, the gleam of silver vambraces, and suddenly that stool was frozen in midair. The vaguely familiar smell of iron or blood was back in the air. That pale hand clenched, and as it did, the wooden stool burst into a thousand splintered pieces, still hovering in place. Hua Cheng’s fist then opened, and with a flick of his wrist, the thousand little wood stakes found themselves thoroughly embedded within the large man who had thrown the stool, his porcelain mask shattered. It was unspeakably gory, with the front of the gambling table painted a darker shade of red. 

The man swayed for just a moment before falling back and hitting the ground with a pronounced thud. The crowd jeered just as joyously as they did whenever Hua Cheng did anything, and one of the bouncers began dragging the body away like he was cleaning up a table at a restaurant. Xie Lian had never actually seen Hua Cheng in action before and he was rather impressed. He turned to him, about to make a comment, but the words died on his lips.

Never in these past months had Xie Lian seen his expression so cold. So incredibly furious. That dark eye blazed, and the evil he now radiated felt like it could fill this whole building. The crowd was clearly entertained and wowed by his sensational display of power and punishment, but Xie Lian could tell the act of violence was extremely personal. Plenty of stools had been broken, and plenty of fights had already been had. 

That man had become a gruesome pin cushion because he had endangered Xie Lian. 

Though he did feel bad for the man, at the same time, he felt those familiar butterflies in his stomach. He actually didn’t think he could recall the last time someone had protected him. Before, it had always been Xie Lian doing the protecting. He felt an odd surge of both guilt over the man’s death and intense adoration for the ghost.

“San Lang. I think I’m done for the night,” he said awkwardly.

“Mn.”

As they turned to leave, Hua Cheng’s mood lightened, and he acted as if nothing had even happened. Xie Lian wondered if he was even supposed to notice that anger. He wouldn’t soon forget the look in his eye, however. This man really did worship him. Hua Cheng had said so, many times, but Xie Lian had long struggled to believe him. If the ghost king was willing to do something like that on his behalf, he would have to take care not to accidentally put others in Hua Cheng’s warpath. 

As they shifted back into Paradise Manor, Xie Lian was suddenly reminded of that time months ago when Hua Cheng had spoken of being a monster. That look on his face this evening had been rather monstrous, but Xie Lian found it beautiful nonetheless.

“I’m only a monster to those who threaten me or things I treasure,” he had said.

Tonight felt like proof that, even if he couldn’t be Hua Cheng’s “special someone," he was someone that Hua Cheng treasured.

The two found themselves deposited back in their bedroom. Xie Lian was very sore in his legs now, so Hua Cheng assisted him in dressing down for the evening. As Hua Cheng helped him remove his hair crown, he asked Xie Lian what he felt like doing for the rest of the evening. 

Much of the past two months had passed quietly and comfortably by reading and talking. They often sat out on the balcony in the evenings with tea and snacks, and if the weather was bad they would stay in and play various games of chance or strategy. Go. Cards. Dice. Hua Cheng rarely lost at the luck-based games of course, and when he did, Xie Lian always suspected he had done so on purpose. It was downright offensive, but he also loved him for it. Either way, reading to each other was still his favorite form of entertainment, especially this late at night.

By this point, he had finally managed to convince Hua Cheng to start laying on the other side of the bed during these times instead of sitting so far away in his chair. Sometimes they even napped together like this. There was something deeply satisfying about waking up and immediately seeing the ghost’s calm and peaceful face. He always knew, of course, that the ghost was just resting. He’d never caught him fully asleep.

They stretched out now, as they usually did most evenings, and Hua Cheng produced the current novel they were working on. It was a rather dramatic story based in a mythical kingdom now lost to time. Xie Lian preferred to listen to Hua Cheng read largely because he enjoyed hearing him talk, and also it gave him ample opportunities to watch the ghost lounging next to him. Hua Cheng started them off for the evening, and Xie Lian did his best to watch him without looking like he was watching him. The ghost king was, as always, truly breathtaking when viewed from this position. The nonchalant way he rested his head in the palm of his hand, the way his long black hair draped over him and spilled out on the bed. As always, Hua Cheng kept a respectable gap between the two of them, and Xie Lian just itched to close it. 

He wasn’t even sure what it was he wanted to do. 

What was he trying to get away with? Maybe he just wanted to run his fingers through that silky midnight hair. Maybe he just wanted to be held again. 

It had been a long while since Hua Cheng had had to carry him anywhere, and now he missed being pressed close in that way. Holding onto his arm was nice, but it wasn’t the same. He knew Hua Cheng had only carried him around because he needed to, but not until he stopped did Xie Lian recognize how much he’d relished those fleeting moments of closeness. There was a certain comfort and security in them that nothing else quite matched. 

As time had moved forward, and Xie Lian’s fears faded, he’d felt Hua Cheng’s hands on him less and less. No more post-nightmare hugs. Less insecure moments when he needed a hand to hold. He got the occasional hand or shoulder squeeze, but Hua Cheng’s touch was simply no longer a necessary and unavoidable thing. 

In the early days, the gentle nature of Hua Cheng’s hands had become like an addiction. Nowadays, Xie Lian felt like he was in withdrawal. 

When they laid close like this, it was especially bad. Thoughts that would shock his former self crept into his mind. Watching Hua Cheng’s mouth as he read aloud, curling over every syllable—he just couldn’t help it. He wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss him. 

Were those perfectly shaped lips as soft as they looked? Would they be cold? Sometimes he wondered what it might feel like to do more than just kiss—to feel Hua Cheng’s hands on him in a less respectful manner. It was an area he had no knowledge or experience in, but his body apparently now knew it wanted something. It was only by the grace of the Dao De Jing that Xie Lian was able to keep his desires suppressed.

The man could really make him question his vows lately. 

He’d kept them all these years as part of his atonement and to maintain his cultivation, but more and more, since meeting Hua Cheng, he’d asked himself what the point of his cultivation even was. He was shackled—he’d never access his spiritual powers again. What would even change? Whenever these thoughts would sneak up on him, he'd feel deeply mortified by them later. 

But only until Hua Cheng lit yet another cruel fire in his heart. He was good at it too. Sometimes the way he acted… if Xie Lian didn’t already know better, he’d think the ghost was trying to seduce him.

It felt like great ocean waves breaking the previously gentle waters of his poor soul.

Shame. Want. Shame. Want. 

Sometimes he felt like he would drown. He couldn’t believe most people lived their whole lives fighting off temptations like this. It was such a ridiculous thing to be bothered by, especially considering that his feelings were one-sided. So many songs and poems about the pain of unrequited love finally made sense to him.

He thought of this now as he quietly read to the ghost laying next to him. He had ruefully taken over now, forced to focus instead on the actual novel. The story was quite a romantic one, and he couldn't help but silently make comparisons to the two of them. A small butterfly wraith was perched on Xie Lian's thumb, illuminating the page for him. Hua Cheng was propping himself up with one hand, eyes half-lidded, and Xie Lian suspected he'd nearly put him to sleep.

As Xie Lian read, a stray lock of his hair escaped its bun and draped down into his face. Before he could even think about doing something about it, Hua Cheng had already reached over to tuck it behind his ear again. He’d reached over to help automatically, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Xie Lian paused in his reading, unable to comprehend how such a small gesture could make him feel so many things all at once. It was such an insignificant moment, over in an instant, and yet it meant all the world to him. 

It really is in little things like this that happiness can be found. 

It was really that simple, and yet happiness had eluded him for so long. 

Hua Cheng's dark eye sluggishly drifted over to him, as if he were pulling himself from a daydream.

"Alright, gege?" he asked in a dangerously husky voice. Xie Lian jolted slightly, realizing that he had stopped reading and he was just staring at the ghost. 

"Ah, yes! Sorry," Xie Lian sputtered as he hid his face with the book. 

He knew he was flushed now, and hoped his expression had betrayed none of his impure thoughts. It then dawned on him that, if he wanted to, Hua Cheng could just look at his hidden face through the butterfly. He thought he felt the bed shake slightly from the ghost’s concealed laughter but perhaps he had imagined it.

That didn't help him regain his composure much. All he could do was keep reading in what he hoped was a natural-sounding voice. It was hard to maintain his concentration now.

He could still feel Hua Cheng's feather-light touch tucking his hair behind his ear. Though thoroughly flustered, Xie Lian was also happy. He was really happy. Happy in a way he hadn't been for a very long time. 

As he finally crawled properly under the covers to go to sleep that night, he kept replaying that moment in his head. There had been many like it, so he wasn't sure why it was so important to him. The ghost slid off the bed and straightened out his robe. Though Hua Cheng never slept in the bed with him through the night, Xie Lian would often close his eyes and pretend he was there. He never knew when the ghost would be spending the whole night in the room or when he would leave to take care of his various duties as Chengzhu, but he knew he'd be waiting for him when he woke up.

It was really a wondrous thing, to look forward to tomorrow. That little moment this evening had given him some clarity. He now had a real reason to keep living that wasn’t just that he had no other choice. He wanted to wake up tomorrow. He wanted to experience more moments like that one. He knew none of this was just a passing phase of his recovery.

This is all I need to be content.

He realized now that didn't actually need his exact feelings reciprocated by the ghost.

He already knew someone else had claimed Hua Cheng’s heart long ago, and he could not hope to compete with that kind of baggage. He already knew his feelings were inappropriate to even have for a worshiper, let alone one he’d gotten killed. He knew all of this, and yet, he had spent the past few weeks feeling frustrated—like he was being denied something he was owed, just because he wanted it. 

Hua Cheng deserves better than that.

Love could come in many forms, and Xie Lian would hold onto whichever form Hua Cheng was willing to give him. It was enough that Hua Cheng cared about him as much as he did. It was already more than he’d had from anyone in centuries, so how could sit around feeling discontented? He could still be more than happy just like this, cherishing every stray touch and kind word and fond smile that was just for him

He nestled into his soft silky covers with a large smile on his own face. Most of his old coffin nightmares were gone and he no longer had to fear going to sleep. 

When he did have a rogue nightmare now, it was usually about Hua Cheng, but it was nothing like those that plagued him before. He didn’t wake up shaking and crying from them. It was usually Hua Cheng abandoning him the moment he was recovered. Hua Cheng dying as a young soldier three feet away from him, without him even noticing. Hua Cheng being disgusted to find his pure white lotus god loved him like that. All reflections of his current insecurities.

He saw them as a sign that what he had with the ghost was something very special to him and that it was something he never wanted to lose. It was something he’d be willing to fight for.

Thankfully, most dreams, both good and bad, were now fairly scarce occurrences. 

Other than some looming fears of the future and some lingering regrets about the past, now that he’d had his little epiphany, a steady peace found its way back into Xie Lian’s heart. 

Though he greatly enjoyed his outings with Hua Cheng, and as comfortable as he had come to feel in Paradise Manor, Xie Lian was now itching to go somewhere else. He couldn’t hide in Ghost City forever. It was nearly time to take the next big step. 

After six centuries of it, wandering was just in his blood, and he ached to see the sun again. He couldn’t spend his eternity laying around reading, even if it was with Hua Cheng. Though the road had always been a lonely one, it would always call him back. Sitting still never ended well for him, and the longer he remained here, the more wary he became of his ill luck lurking and growing just beyond the border of Hua Cheng’s protective barrier. Better to just face it and move on.

His years of destitute wandering and scrap collecting hadn’t been all bad. There were bits and pieces of his long life that he had cherished, even in spite of the misfortune that haunted him. He missed being cradled by the majesty of nature, the excitement of not knowing what lay over the next distant hill. He missed new towns, new people, new unexpected treasures to collect. Helping people and protecting those in need had always felt like a part of his life’s purpose as well. Just working in the Gambler’s Den would never be enough to fully satisfy him. He needed the world too.

There was one small problem. On some level, he was still afraid of it. 

It felt like once he left the ghost realm for the first time, it would mark the end of his recovery and all that entailed.

It was the first step towards his new life, but it would be a life lived mostly on his own again. Sure, he could probably visit Hua Cheng with some regularity if he wished, but things would never be the same as living with this person and spending all his time with him. Meals tasted so much better when they were shared. The day felt so much brighter when there was someone to greet him upon waking. It would be hard to let it go. It was a kind of happiness nothing on the road would be able to match.

This hurdle had awaited him a long time. In fact, Xie Lian had only been out of the coffin probably a couple of weeks the first time this fear settled upon his heart. 

His final fear to face, the most difficult of all of them. Being alone.

He needed to do it. He needed to relieve his ghostly caretaker of his duties and set him free. Hua Cheng deserved to live his life too without the burden of Xie Lian’s constant presence in his home. Though it would be scary, if anything, Xie Lian could find comfort in the fact that at least he’d no longer have to feel like he was weighing the ghost down.

Hua Cheng leaned back, head in his hands, as his fellow Supreme absolutely tore into his bowl of noodles. 

The parlor they were in was filled with a smoky haze, giving most folks eating here a bit of privacy. Just two ghost kings, living legends, tucked away in the booth of a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. He and He Xuan always broke bread here. It was on Hua Cheng’s tab, of course, increasing the debt Black Water owed him. A whole tray of bowls sat off to one side and a small stack of finished ones grew on the other.

He Xuan was in his true form, though dressed plainly in black so as not to draw unwanted attention. His long black hair hung down loose, looking perpetually wet like he’d just risen from the water without wringing it out. He still smelled vaguely of the sea, and Hua Cheng suspected salt water to be pooling under their table as they spoke. 

Hua Cheng took a drink of his wine, mesmerized at how much this ghost kept packing away. He was so thin that Hua Cheng legitimately had no idea where it all went. They had been chatting for a little while now, but Hua Cheng’s attention kept naturally drifting back to his God. He needed to give him space sometimes, and thus had to resist the urge to keep checking in on him through a butterfly. 

He doesn’t need your constant surveillance.

His Highness was currently at the Gambler’s Den, learning how things operated from the croupiers. Though Hua Cheng wasn’t terribly worried about him, you never knew what could happen in a place like that. Look at what had happened last week. His Highness had insisted, though, and Hua Cheng relented only by leaving Yin Yu there to protect him. 

Hua Cheng had also gleefully given him his awful communication array password and shared some spiritual energy. His Highness could make as many calls as he needed. Judging by Xie Lian’s horrified expression, he figured he’d get a call only if it were life and death. In hindsight, perhaps he should have changed it to something less bawdy.

“So, what’s the news on the investigation? They gave up, right?” Hua Cheng asked leisurely, resting his chin on his hand. 

He Xuan finished drinking the broth of his current bowl, and then sneered, as he pulled the next bowl over.

“They hit a dead end. Now they’re just following up on hunches. They only know he was lured there and presumably god-napped. At first, they thought it was the demon you cooked up, but then they realized the bodies were fake. As it stands, they still have no leads on motivation and no witnesses other than the one you were disguised in front of.” 

He Xuan shamelessly said all of this through a new mouthful of noodles.

Hua Cheng smiled at the thought of the heavenly rats scrambling around up there in a panic. Lang Qianqiu had been missing for months now, so he was actually surprised they were still at it. They were usually so lazy, not to mention cutthroat about each other. A missing god was just a chance for someone new to take over their station. Hua Cheng knew exactly who would try, too. 

“They do have suspicions about you, though,” Black Water said, breaking him from his thoughts. Those shining, beady black eyes flashed up at him briefly.

“Do they now ?”

“You’re really the only one who would threaten a martial god. They don’t have any proof, of course, but your name keeps coming up.” 

Hua Cheng chuckled.

“They wouldn’t dare accuse me without proof, and they won’t find any proof unless they find him. If their gossip extends beyond Heaven, I’ll just trigger our contingency plan and give the dogs a new tree to bark up. We left plenty of bait laying around before I even got my hands on him.” 

He Xuan just shrugged and started in on another bowl.

No one from heaven would ever find a link between him and Lang Qianqiu; of that, Hua Cheng was positive. The only people who could possibly understand his motive were Yin Yu and He Xuan, and if either of them talked, they’d just get themselves in trouble.

“You’re lucky I’m good at covering my tracks,” Black Water grumbled into his bowl. “Still. I wouldn’t put it past Jun Wu to get to the bottom of your little scapegoat plan if he pursued this personally. He has ways of pulling the truth out of people.”

Hua Cheng hummed, rather unconcerned.

“But they so love a scandal up there,” he sighed and leaned back. “I’m not especially worried; even if they did sniff me out, they wouldn’t do anything about it. No matter what I might do to offend them, confronting me directly wouldn’t be worth the heavenly body count that would follow. Jun Wu is welcome to come challenge me himself, of course.” 

He Xuan just shook his head.

“Big talk. You know, some say you’re hiding from them. You haven’t been seen around much. Have you started hibernating like me or something?” 

Hm, that was surprising. Was it that obvious?

“I’ve been preoccupied.”

“Mn. I did hear talk you found a woman.” 

Hua Cheng snorted into his cup.

“I knew that was bullshit. More likely, you’re just busy torturing General Tai Hua,” Black Water snickered. 

He paused then and regarded Hua Cheng with a long look, those long black nails tapping on the wooden table.

“Something I’ve been wondering, Crimson Rain.”

“You want to know why,” he stated flatly.

The water demon leaned in slightly, that eerie, empty gaze fixed on him.

“I wanna know if it had to do with that sword.” 

Hua Cheng’s eyes narrowed at the mention of that cursed weapon. He could never unsee that wicked thing plunged again and again through his beloved. He could never forget that it had held the furious spirits that tore Wu Ming asunder. He said nothing, pondering on whether there was anything he wanted Black Water to know about it. He Xuan spoke again instead. 

“It hasn’t been taken from his armory, so you didn’t kill him for it. But all this started after I mentioned it to you.” 

Best to stick with half-truths like usual. 

“That belonged to an old friend of mine. Now I know why he disappeared and who to blame for it,” Hua Cheng said shortly.

Black Water’s eyebrows rose a fraction.

“I didn’t think you had any friends.” 

“Mn. Just the one, really. That's why General Tai Hua needed to pay.” Hua Cheng took one final sip of his wine, finishing it. 

Those long, shiny nails continued to click on the table, and Hua Cheng could tell he wasn’t fully satisfied. He felt slightly irritated at being pushed for details like this, but then again, Black Water had divulged his whole story when he’d asked for it. 

“So, your friend was the villainous State Preceptor then?” he asked. 

Obviously.

“I didn’t know Fang Xin had been my friend in disguise until you said that sword had been his.” 

He Xuan nodded then, seeming content enough with that answer. 

“Of course you’d keep one of history’s biggest villains as your only friend.” He Xuan cackled at this but it was cut off by the dagger-like stare Hua Cheng gave him.

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” he added, though still smiling. They lapsed back into silence as Ship-Sinking Black Water continued to sink his own finances.

The two Supremes parted ways shortly after. It was kind of a yearly get-together they did just to exchange information, rumors, and gossip. 

He hadn’t considered that folks might be gossiping about his sudden lack of presence, though. He wondered if people really thought he’d gone into hiding just because he’d remained in Ghost City for so long. That could be problematic if they tied that timeframe to the timing of the General’s disappearance. 

Oh well, that was what backup plans were for. He and He Xuan had about three of them lined up. 

He wondered if he should just trigger the first one anyhow, considering that they were being so stubborn about this. He hated to ruin the mystery of it all. That said, if somehow His Highness did hear about this, he’d rather him think it was just Heavenly Politics. 

In the early days of his planning, he had been concerned about His Highness finding out, but once he discovered how completely his God cut himself off from anything heaven-related, he’d mostly stopped worrying. His Highness didn’t even know or care who most of the current gods even were. The only ones he could name, other than those two, were Jun Wu and the Rain Master—the ones who had also been in power 600 years prior.

His Highness had nearly recovered and could probably survive out in the world now, and there was always a chance he might hear something out there. If he did, it should be about how General Tai Hua was lured away and murdered by his own ambitious underling, a traitor working with demonic cultivators from the East. 

He should still have no reason to think Hua Cheng had done anything—only that he had chosen not to mention his ascension and subsequent disappearance. He could think of a good excuse for that. 

I should get the rumor mill going. That might be for the best after all.

He didn’t like to think about his God wandering away from him. He did still likely have a few weeks— maybe a month—of recovery before he returned to a normal man’s strength. As he was now, he still tired out pretty fast. If he took to traveling, he’d have to stop often. Getting his full strength back would probably take another year or two, but he wouldn’t want to linger in the ghost realm that whole time. 

Hua Cheng wasn’t sure what was to come next. It was like a conversation neither of them were ready to have yet. Whenever talk drifted in that direction, they would both quickly change the subject. 

His God had brought up the mortal world a number of times over the last few weeks, and about scrap collecting, so Hua Cheng could tell he was about ready for freedom. He had spent centuries wandering, so it would make sense if that’s what he wanted to go back to. Whatever he needed to be happy, Hua Cheng would make it happen. 

Then again, he’d also asked for that job in Ghost City, so perhaps he also wanted a good reason to come back and stay at times.
It was reassuring, even though Hua Cheng hated the idea of his God being his employee. It’s not like he was trying to collect and hire all the fallen gods…

Well, no matter what His Highness chose to do next, Hua Cheng was never going to lose him again. 

He disliked the thought of following him around in secret, but he would always at least make sure he knew what town His Highness was in at a given time. He'd spent enough time in this life searching for him, and Hua Cheng didn’t plan to lose track now. He was going to keep him safe this time. 

Hua Cheng considered the red string tied to his finger as he strolled down the street towards the Gambler’s Den.

These last few months had passed like a dream. Even the moments that were difficult had been sandwiched between long afternoons spent happily in each other’s company. He dared say it felt like they were close. His God had turned his residence into a proper home, and Hua Cheng was reluctant to lose it. It was already more than he ever expected to get. It devastated him for these simple days to end, but all things eventually did. They should try to enjoy these last few weeks to the fullest.

His Highness had cabin fever, so perhaps a small trip to the mortal realm would do him some good. They would simply dip their toes in to start.

Hua Cheng knew just the place for His Highness’s first return trip to the world.

Chapter Text

Yin Yu stood in a dark corner of the Gambler’s Den, observing the riffraff that frequented it. 

Things had died down, but the place had been whipped up into a frenzy earlier. He had been close to nodding off until the boss and his beloved guest arrived unexpectedly. Normally, this would be fantastic. Yin Yu could relax a bit and let Hua Cheng keep an eye on the place. Yet, things managed to get out of hand anyway. He’d watched the Chengzhu of Ghost City annihilate one of his own human guests. 

This violent display served as a terrifying reminder that he should never do anything to seriously anger his employer. If he ever failed too spectacularly, the loss of a paycheck would be the least of his worries. He’d come awfully close just a few weeks ago, too. A simple slip-up, one wrong word, and he’d almost sent their new guest screaming for the hills. 

It was fortunate that Xie Lian had taken the information he spilled unusually well. Had he not, the Waning Moon Officer would be in worse shape than that poor man with wood shrapnel sticking out of his face. It wouldn’t be the first time a slip of the tongue had been his undoing.

Sometimes he thought he should just quit. 

The position payed well, and he’d actually saved up a small fortune at this point, but honestly, Yin Yu wasn’t sure what he would do with his life otherwise. With his spiritual powers suppressed, there seemed little point in doing anything else. His whole life had been about cultivating and becoming a god. Now, doing anything else just seemed… disappointing. At least being the Waning Moon Officer came with some level of prestige. All the ghosts somewhat feared and respected him as Hua Cheng’s right-hand man. That is, when they noticed him.

Two ghost women sashayed past the former god, giggling about how red "Grand Uncle's" face had been during his 'lesson'. They passed Yin Yu by, utterly unaware of his presence even though they moved not three feet from him. He was like a fly on the wall, a statue in the corner. It was a talent he hadn't really known he had a knack for until now. It made listening in on people very easy.

Yin Yu’s main job here was to observe, and from what he’d observed, nothing else mattered to Hua Cheng as much as Xie Lian did. For all the years he’d known him, Hua Cheng had always acted like everyone else, even the divine emperor, was far beneath him—except this person. It was unprecedented. It was the first time he’d seen Hua Cheng treat someone as his equal. Someone he actually respected and admired.

That’s why blood currently stained the gambling table. That's why Hua Cheng had searched for Xie Lian relentlessly and plotted a massive and elaborate revenge scheme against the one who’d locked him away in a coffin. 

Now that Xie Lian was here, Hua Cheng’s obvious devotion to the man was clear as day. It was a new side of Hua Cheng, and it honestly scared Yin Yu. Who knew what this Calamity was capable of now? It was the first time he’d seen the ghost king actually care about anything. As he’d learned in Ghost City, rather than muscle or spiritual power—it was the thing a ghost cared about that stood as the source of their strength. 

Hua Cheng was probably now twice as dangerous as he’d ever been.

The gambling hall still buzzed about the two of them and their visit. Part of his job was to listen to the riffraff, and they were giving him plenty of gossip to report on later. The way Hua Cheng had ‘instructed’ Xie Lian in the proper way to throw dice had everyone in a delighted tizzy. There was some jealousy mixed in as well. They spoke of the familiar way he’d put his hand on Xie Lian’s shoulder, and especially the way he’d protected him from the thrown stool. Most were convinced that this mysterious “Grand Uncle” was Hua Cheng’s unspoken paramour. Yin Yu couldn’t speak on that, but to be honest, he had wondered from time to time. They were still sharing a bedroom, after all. At the very least, everyone now knew that to threaten Xie Lian was to invite the wrath of a Supreme. 

Yin Yu liked Xie Lian, but he still wasn’t sure where Hua Cheng’s respect for him stemmed from. Other than his story as The Prince who Pleased God, most of what Yin Yu had read or heard about him was… fairly negative, to say the very least. Doubly so if he was also the infamous State Preceptor Fang Xin. Then again, things written in the history books weren’t always accurate. There was probably more to the story. Yin Yu knew what it was like to be misunderstood.

Yin Yu thought His Highness to be perfectly pleasant and certainly not villainous. He was well spoken, easy, and comfortable to be around—maybe even too much so. He was very good at catching Yin Yu off guard, in fact. Always polite, always offering him things and treating him like a peer, despite the fact that Yin Yu was just part of the help. He suspected the Crown Prince could relate to him, and the ever-present and inescapable shame that came from wearing a divine collar. It wasn't something they spoke of, but it was clear they both knew who they were talking to.

The two of them got along well for the brief moments they were able to spend in each other’s company. Though Yin Yu had long decided he was better off without, it would honestly be nice to be able to call Xie Lian a friend someday.

Their chances to socialize were few and far between, however, because Yin Yu was pretty much always on duty. 

With Hua Cheng so preoccupied with his guest’s recovery, Yin Yu now worked to his absolute breaking point. So much had to be kept track of now, on his own, without Hua Cheng’s additional eyes and ears. There was no room for error or failure. All of Ghost City’s security rested on his shoulders. He had to be twice as vigilant, and he’d begun to fear he was getting sloppier over time. Yin Yu pushed himself from against the wall and headed for the door. It was time to do some patrolling now that the 'rush hour' of the gambling den was over. He stepped out into the cool night air and slipped into the shadows of a back alleyway.

Yin Yu had always considered himself a competent person. He was not cunning like Hua Cheng, not talented like Quan Yizhen, not beautiful nor gracious like Xie Lian, but he was competent. He was loyal. He was reliable. These were the only qualities he felt he had left to lean on—to keep his head held up high, even with one wrist ruthlessly shackled and his former reputation in utter ruin. The all-important and infamous Hua Cheng could count on him, no matter what, to do his job. After two centuries of service, the ghost king no longer even needed to check in with him. 

He knew good old Yin Yu was always on top of things. 

That had always been the case, but recently, not so much. Being burnt-out aside, it was mostly because Yin Yu had found that fucking book. It was resting there against his chest even now, and he itched to pull it out and leaf through it.

Ever since The Book had fallen into his hands, his ability to concentrate had fallen apart, and now it felt like his life and his job were teetering on the edge of a crumbling cliff. He could only half pay attention to anything between his lack of sleep and the constant distracting allure of the secrets he knew that book held. The answers he now sought with uncharacteristic obsession. Answers worth risking Hua Cheng’s fury by putting his job second.

How to break a divine shackle.

He had asked Hua Cheng once, many years ago, if he knew how to break one. The ghost king had simply replied that, short of the divine emperor willing it, only an insane influx of spiritual power could do the job. It would have to be the kind of power that would take a god many, many centuries to accrue naturally, and then they’d have to be willing to spend it all just to free that person.

Though he wondered if one day Hua Cheng would attempt something like that for his Xie Lian, Yin Yu had no one who would be willing to do such a thing for him. 

Yin Yu, despite being utterly powerless and now without worshipers, had remained fiercely committed to his path of cultivation. It was all he had left, and the only reason his lifespan had remained extended. The longevity was nice, but he’d begun to wonder what the point of it all was. He wanted to taste the true fruits of his labor again. He was not afraid of hard work. 

He’d never admitted it to anyone, but he wanted more than anything to ascend again and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he belonged in Heaven. Staying humble had always been a virtue he aspired to, but as it turns out, he was a man of pride after all.

Only after losing it all did he realize he’d staked all his self-worth on his brief success and the heights he reached as the martial god of the west. He’d never fully recovered from the trauma of losing everything, and now he often acted as though Heaven were overrated to cope. Though he was willing to admit he wasn’t really anything special, it was still difficult sometimes to accept that he’d fallen so low as to work as the loyal servant of a ghost. 

Granted, Hua Cheng was probably more powerful than most gods, and he’d really done Yin Yu several favors after his banishment, it still felt demoralizing. He was only able to suffer this indignity by wearing his mask and using his alias as the Waning Moon Officer.

It all felt like a performance. He didn’t actually belong here.

He wasn’t dead yet.

Though known as the Waning Moon Officer now, in his heart he was still Yin Yu. He wasn’t some shadow spy or servant boy. He hadn’t given in yet, and he hadn’t given up on what he still really wanted to be.

He wanted more from his life than this. Xie Lian had ascended twice somehow. That was proof it was possible, even with a shackle. It would be so much easier to achieve with a clean slate, however. If he could find a way to shed the collar, he could start over from scratch. He could ascend again in just the same way he had the first time. 

Technically, without the collar, he would return to being god-like in spiritual power, but that wasn’t the point. Power was never the point. He wanted his position in heaven again. He wanted to reach even higher than last time. Top Ten.

All he had to do to make this a reality was translate the texts within the tome he now kept secured on his person at all times.

While trying to figure out how to create their own version of a divine shackle, Yin Yu had come across this extremely ancient and occult tome. The paper itself was close to crumbling into dust, so he had to be very careful when handling it. The ghost he’d gotten it from had no idea of its origin—they'd taken it from the slain remains of another ghost up on Mount Tonglu. The ink images within clearly depicted both the creation and the removal of a shackle, but the script was not only ancient but maybe even foreign. He had deduced, on top of that, it must be written in some kind of code. It wasn’t natural writing. Hua Cheng had discarded the tome as being unworthy of the time and effort required, but Yin Yu had the time.

Yin Yu had spent the past few months seeking the book's provenance. Though he should have used the time to sleep, any time off the clock he spent looking for answers. If he could just figure out the name of the kingdom it came from, or the name of the language or script it had been written in, he could take the steps needed to actually read the damn thing. It was like the civilization had been wiped off the face of the earth. Truly bizarre. 

Even when he wasn’t off searching for clues, he spent time in the library simply flipping through the pages of the book, trying to piece anything together. Any hint. Any patterns in the text. It preoccupied his thoughts while on the job too, and he was tempted to sneak off from his post when he thought of something to try. He wished he could just ask Ling Wen. He wished he dared ask anyone for help.

But he didn’t.

It seemed his pride would not allow him. 

If someone knew what his ambitions were and he still failed, then they would know he had failed. How pathetic, being unable to accept his fate. He felt like a scolded child, trying to sneak away from writing lines. Of course, he didn’t actually think he deserved to be banished. This was Quan Yizhen's and Jian Yu’s fault in the first place. All he’d done was lose his temper and say one wrong word. It wasn’t fair, and he didn’t want to accept it yet.

Yin Yu crossed the street and stepped into another shadow, pausing to listen to a large group huddling further back in the alley. They were gambling out here illegally. All bets in Ghost City were to be made in the gambler's den. He didn't approach, he merely took note of their faces and moved on. As he reached the next cross street and stood under a bright lantern, he paused and pulled the book out from under his robes. The soft cracking leather binding left little bits of detritus in his hand. He wanted to open it. He want to throw it into a scrap pile so that it would stop driving him insane.

This book, its contents, and his new goals were now his most precious secrets. A profound and fragile dream that he now held dearly to his heart—so desperately that he couldn’t even bear to let anyone else look upon it and judge him. He feared his new hopes would shatter like glass, and he’d have to return to the miserable monotony of his post-god existence. 

He swallowed thickly and shoved the book back into his robes. He could be walking the divine avenue right now, the lovely smell of flowers filling his nose instead of whatever rank horrors were boiling in that pot a few feet away.

He bit his lip and continued his walk. If this turned out to be a dead end, he’d have to finally accept his eternal position as the Waning Moon Officer. He'd have to accept this life. He knew deep down he wasn’t extraordinary enough to ascend while shackled. Not everyone could be as incredible as Xie Lian. That was like doing the impossible despite having one hand tied behind your back. It would take more than just some hard work. You’d probably have to have fate itself on your side. 

Yin Yu just wanted another chance, and he thought he deserved it, considering what he’d been banished for.

He would find his answers. He would find a way to break free of his restrictions and cultivate properly again. 

If he failed to ascend after this, at least he would know for sure that it wasn’t meant to be—that it was truly his own inadequacy that blocked his way. Not the shackle, and not Quan Yizhen. If he couldn’t ascend again, he would accept his mediocrity.

He would even make peace with it. 

Maybe then he could finally become the Waning Moon Officer and leave the name Yin Yu behind him.

It was the possibility, the what if, that was simply intolerable as of now.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng was ruminating on just how to bring it up.

He'd been planning to all morning, but there was something odd in the air between him and his God that gave him pause. They hadn't spoken a whole lot. He felt oddly hesitant about his plans, as if they might suddenly expedite things in a way he didn't want.

As if His Highness could pick up on his thoughts, he'd brought up the gardens.

Now he and his God strolled leisurely through the back courtyard of Paradise Manor. Many new flowers had bloomed recently with a heat wave, and His Highness wanted to see them. The sounds of frogs coming from the lake were almost too loud to talk over, and the white lanterns strung throughout swayed in the warm summer breeze, casting odd dancing shadows.

“I just can’t understand how they bloom here without the sun,” His Highness said, marveling at them. 

Hua Cheng merely shrugged.

“They must be ghost flowers,” he replied, half-joking.  

His Highness chuckled in response. He was crouching down, and despite being surrounded by majestically blooming peonies, he was focused on a single rogue dandelion that was on its last leg, puffy and white. Bathed in the moon and lantern light, swimming in his pure white silks, his God looked the ethereal picture of divinity, the paragon of peerless beauty, and Hua Cheng was momentarily mesmerized.

His Highness didn’t pluck the dandelion and blow the seeds away, as Hua Cheng had expected. He let the flower be.

“Summer already... I can’t believe how long I’ve already been here. It was early winter when you found me, right?” His Highness asked as he stood back up. Hua Cheng nodded, feeling a little twinge of worry. It was a worry he'd been carrying around all day.

“Time does fly faster the older we get,” he replied.

“That’s very true.” 

They both seemed lost in their own thoughts, but Hua Cheng languished in suspense. Surely His Highness was going to tell him he was ready to leave finally? His Highness stole a glance at Hua Cheng and caught him already looking back. Then he smiled gently and took a few steps closer to him.

“These past months have been some of my hardest in their own way, but they’ve also been really wonderful, too. Wonderful because I was able to meet you.” 

His Highness’s honeyed words made him unspeakably happy to hear, but his nervousness did not abate. This felt like a taste of something sweet to mellow the bitterness to come.

Stay calm. Brace yourself.

“I hope Your Highness has felt comfortable here,” he said, smoothing his sleeves before clasping his hands behind his back and looking out into the garden.

“I have. It’s the closest I’ve felt to being home since I was mortal, I think. I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I hope you know I don’t take any of it for granted.” 

His Highness’s eyes had not left Hua Cheng, but it was hard to look back. His mouth had gone very dry and he didn’t want to give himself away. He forced himself to meet His Highness’ eyes again, trying to remain nonchalant. 

“And I hope you know you will always have a home waiting here, whenever you want or need it, be it now, a year from now, or a hundred years from now. You are always welcome to live here if you want to.” 

His God looked taken aback by his offer, which surprised him, and then his God’s smile deepened meaningfully, those golden eyes shining. 

Suddenly, his thin arms snaked around Hua Cheng’s middle and he found himself caught in a tight embrace. His Highness’s face was tucked against his chest, but he could see how pink his ears were. Hua Cheng hesitated at first, struggling to grasp the reality of this happening at all. Then, slowly, he wrapped his arms firmly around His Highness’s shoulders. Hua Cheng had carried his Highness around many times and he'd embraced him in order to calm him down before, but His Highness had never initiated a hug.

“I know it sounds ridiculous…” His Highness mumbled. “But hard as they were, these past months have been some of the happiest I can remember. I don’t know what that says about my life, but… thank you, San Lang.”

“Your Highness, you don’t have to...” he whispered before trailing off. He had no idea what to say, what to even think in this moment.

The wind kicked up just a bit, and some strange nocturnal bird started calling loudly into the night. The two of them just stood there for a long moment and Hua Cheng tried to carve into his memory the feeling of His Highness pressed against him, the clutching of his hands around Hua Cheng’s back, the smell of his hair.

His Highness pulled his head away, though his arms did not leave Hua Cheng’s waist yet, and he peeked up at him sheepishly. 

“Ah… sorry. I got carried away in the moment.” 

Hua Cheng’s heart melted under such a look. Good thing he didn’t need it anymore. It took immense effort, but he didn’t let himself glance at his God’s lips. Didn’t let himself lose all composure at the warmth of his arms sinking through his red robes. Instead, he smiled down at him, pulling one arm back to reach into his pocket.

He was afraid of what His Highness might have to say next, so he was going to distract him.

“Gege, would you like to see a different garden?” he asked, holding up his dice.

“???” 

Before he could respond, Hua Cheng had already thrown them, catching two sixes, as he always did. The twilit manor garden around them faded and everything grew much brighter and vivid green. 

They found themselves in what looked at first to be a well-manicured forested clearing, misty, and not exactly what Hua Cheng had hoped for. The overcast sky was drizzling rain.

Hua Cheng narrowed his eyes up at the dark clouds as if, simply by glaring hard enough, he could make it stop. He sighed as he summoned his faithful red umbrella and opened it in one swift motion.

"Sorry, gege, I was hoping to show you some real sunlight, but it appears to be raining here.”

His Highness was still tucked to his chest, but he freed himself now to turn and gaze around them. It may be raining, but this was still a magnificent and massive botanical garden. Flowers of a thousand exotic colors, shapes, and sizes surrounded them. The air was heavy, warm and humid, and the fragrance wafting from all the blooms was almost overpowering.

“Did you want to see this place? I can also take you somewhere where the sun is shining instead.” 

“I want to see it! Absolutely!” His Highness exclaimed, not the slightest bit deterred by the weather. Hua Cheng huffed a laugh.

"Alright, gege, stay close under the umbrella then.”

His Highness absentmindedly wrapped one of his arms around Hua Cheng’s. He still did this often and it nearly unraveled the ghost every single time. He knew it was just a habit, but still...

They didn’t say much as they shuffled side by side. That quiet tension from this morning was back, but it was a little different now. It was about as thick in the air as the fragrance of the flowers was. He had felt it a few times the past few weeks. Both of them would become inexplicably shy and quiet, like they both had something they wanted to say but neither of them could spit it out. He half suspected this to be one-sided. Maybe he was the only one feeling this way. He didn’t know what he wanted to say other than— 

Please don’t leave me.

Hua Cheng’s problem was that he was madly in love with his God, and he didn’t know how to just let him go. He was right here with him now. How could he just say goodbye?

He would need to get past this. There was a part of him that would never lose hope that the two of them could be more. There was another, equally strong part of him that couldn’t imagine that anyone could love him that way in return. He both worshiped and desired His God in equal measure. Everything about that whole situation was complicated, and as ridiculous as it was twisted. He knew he probably wasn't right in the head. He was obsessive, probably a little mad, a zealot. Hua Cheng simply tried to act as normal as his capabilities allowed while in his God’s presence. He couldn’t fathom what went on in his His Highness’s mind or how he viewed their relationship, but his own thoughts had been nothing less than profane. He'd rather be dispersed than live through the shame and anguish of being revealed.

What would His Highness even do if he discovered the full depths of his feelings? 

If he knew how long he’d been clinging to the thought of seeing him again. The years and years of relentless searching.

If he saw the thousands of statues he had carved of him and the murals he painted—a few of which were suggestive, to put it mildly. 

If he knew he was the reason for this Ghost King’s entire existence. That Hua Cheng was that boy who had lived for him. That he was also Wu Ming, who had happily died for him.

His Highness would be horrified or disgusted—maybe even afraid of him. He certainly wouldn’t stick around. Hua Cheng knew himself to be too much, but he didn’t know how else to be. He was a ghost partly born out of rage, but the other part was unconditional love.

The rain pattered against the umbrella as they slowly walked, pausing every few moments so his God could inspect a flower more closely. It was a pleasant sound, and it filled their mutual silence in a merciful way. They'd gone on so many walks together before, but never, in all these months, had Hua Cheng been unable to think of anything to blather on about. His Highness seemed too absorbed in their surroundings to notice.

As they turned a corner, Hua Cheng saw a very familiar climbing vine, one that had grown in many places around Xianle. It produced a flower he had often left on his God’s altar. A small white flower, with five long thin petals. About a thousand memories of his childhood came crashing back to him. Star Jasmine, he’d heard it called back then.

Inspiration struck, and without thinking twice, he stepped over to it and plucked a small bundle from the vine. With a small bow, he presented it to his God.

“An offering to the Flower-Crowned Martial God,” he said sincerely. 

He saw His Highness’s eyes grow very soft as he reached out, but then his hand hovered and did not take it. The light in his eyes then darkened, as if he were remembering something very unpleasant. Hua Cheng felt panic kick in. What on earth was he thinking?! 

Instead of pulling his offering back, however, Hua Cheng impulsively reached up and tucked the flower into his hair, just above His Highness’s ear. 

WHAT are you doing?! What are you doing?!  he screamed at himself internally. Then he realized. Its the same flower.

His Highness snapped out of it and turned slightly to laugh into his hand.

“Thank you, I like it very much, San Lang,” he said easily. 

Hua Cheng slowly let out a held breath. For a moment, he’d half expected his God to take it and crush it. Now he forced himself to be calm. His God was not that person anymore. It would have been okay if he was; Hua Cheng wouldn’t hold it against him. Still, it relieved him greatly that his God had managed to find himself again and remain the person Hua Cheng had first fallen in love with.

A little lost as to what he should say after such a display and the near-miss of revealing himself, Hua Cheng simply offered his arm again. His Highness took it without a second thought. Hua Cheng was immensely glad that ghosts didn't blush. His undead heart hammered uselessly now. Funny, how fear and love could make him feel mortal again. A beating heart was of no real use, but his body still tethered it to his emotions. 

There were times when Hua Cheng indulged in his desires just a little bit, if only to see how His Highness might react. Sticking flowers in his hair might have been a bit too bold. Too forward. This whole outing felt that way. Walking like this, anyone would probably assume they were a couple. Hua Cheng would die again to know what his God was thinking and feeling. Was he uncomfortable? Playing along? Just... oblivious to romantic overtures?

His Highness spoke then, to his relief, a funny smile playing on his lips. 

“You know, I had many odd things left at my altars when I was a god. Lots of expensive offerings, too, but flowers were always my favorite.” 

“Is that so?” Hua Cheng felt a certain smugness return to him.

“Is it strange? Maybe I should have been a god of flowers.” 

“It’s not strange, gege. Flowers suit you. You are Xianle, a flower in one hand and a sword in the other.” 

His Highness hummed.

“Not anymore. I still appreciate the offering, though. I didn't get many white ones back then." 

Hua Cheng tried to judge his expression, looking for hints of sadness or recognition, but His Highness didn’t seem bothered.

"White suits His Highness best." 

"Ah, but most people see white flowers as more befitting a funeral service. Such a shame. I do like white flowers best."

His Highness spoke distractedly, his eyes were scanning the garden.

Rather abruptly, His Highness dipped out from under his umbrella and off to the side. With the return of his strength, his God now moved with some of his former grace and elegance. Hua Cheng tried to follow and keep him sheltered from the rain, only partially succeeding. His Highness had approached a red camellia bush loaded with blossoms so large that some of them were practically drooping to the ground. He plucked one up.

His God then turned to him and presented it.

“A gift for my most stubborn believer,” he said happily as he took a step back under the umbrella. Hua Cheng’s breath caught in his throat. 

“May I?” His Highness asked, eyes lifting to his hair. All Hua Cheng could do was helplessly bend his head lower. 

His God reached up and tucked the blossom behind his ear. Though His Highness had no way of knowing, today happened to be Hua Cheng’s birthday. This beautiful flower was the first birthday gift he’d ever accepted from anyone. 

“Thank you, gege,” he murmured reverently. 

His Highness leaned back and observed him.

“Red really is your color. San Lang, how did you ever become named Crimson Rain Sought Flower? You still never told me.” Hua Cheng smiled rather deviously.

“I could show you, but it might ruin the atmosphere of this place.”

“Show me anyway,” His Highness insisted, an equally mischievous twinkle in his own eye.

"Alright, gege, come all the way under the umbrella." 

He did, and Hua Cheng wrapped one arm around his shoulders as he looked up. After a few moments, the soft drizzle of rain shifted, the drops taking on a thick, opaque red hue. His Highness gaped as he looked around, even reaching out a hand to catch a few of the crimson drops.

“Is this blood?” he asked.

“A bit dramatic, I know, but it does make a statement,” Hua Cheng drawled. His Highness laughed then.

“It suits you. I bet your enemies are traumatized for life.” 

Hua Cheng shrugged, as if this were no big deal at all. It was really the butterflies they feared. He cleared his throat.

“I got the name Crimson Rain Sought Flower when I was observed shielding a flower from this rain with my umbrella—just as I am now, in a way. That's the whole story. It’s pretty boring, if you ask me.” 

His Highness glanced up at him with a peculiar look in his eye, but he had no idea what it meant. Hua Cheng ended the blood rain, and as he did, the real rain seemed to stop as well.

“Ah, now that's better,” he said as he dropped his umbrella and closed it. 

The clouds began to break and let a little dappled sunlight through. His Highness smiled up into it and closed his eyes for a moment. It dawned on Hua Cheng that, while he wasn’t a big fan of the sun himself, it really had been years since His Highness had basked in it. The pure white light revealed the full extent of his God’s loveliness, his delicate but handsome features now restored, long dark lashes fanned against his cheeks.

He should have brought him here much sooner.

“You know, from all my wandering, I actually used to get quite tan at times. I must really look like a local of Ghost City now,” he said, inspecting his pale hands.

“Gege looks good either way,” Hua Cheng reassured.

He watched his God bashfully scratch at his cheek, one of his signature moves. Even now, he didn’t seem at all used to accepting compliments. It was an awful thing to realize, considering how endlessly praised he had been as a prince.

His Highness outstretched his hands into a sunbeam, letting the light dance up his wrists. He seemed pleased. These hands were no longer bony, knobby-looking things. Just normal hands once again.

“There’s something I wanted to ask,” Hua Cheng said suddenly, unable to stop himself. 

“What’s that?” 

He weakened then. How was he supposed to ask this? How should he word it without making things weird?

“I know, in your life before, you preferred to stay on the move. You’ve been too kind to say, but I know you are dying to travel again.” 

His Highness suddenly looked guilty, shoulders bunched like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. 

“Of course, I would not stop you if you were ready to leave, but also… I would like to be able to stay in contact somehow. If gege finds himself in some trouble again, I want to be able to help.” 

He saw His Highness’s narrow shoulders drop, and he gave Hua Cheng a tender look.

“I’ve already been such a burden, San Lang. You shouldn’t feel like you have to keep watching over me.” 

Hua Cheng opened his mouth to protest this, but his God cut him off. 

“But I would also like to be able to keep in touch! I enjoy San Lang’s company very much! It would be difficult without spiritual powers, though… and writing letters wouldn’t work if I’m always traveling,” His Highness puzzled, resting his chin between his thumb and index finger. 

You wouldn’t be able to read my handwriting anyway. 

“Maybe we just need a way to find each other again, if we need to,” Hua Cheng said slowly. 

“How?” he asked. 

No turning back now.

“With this.” He raised his hand and waggled a finger. 

“The red string?”

“It’s a spiritual device. If I take the other end and tie it to your finger, we will be bound, in a way. We will always know that the other is alive and what direction to go in order to find one another. Not as convenient as a communication array… but it’s… something. At least until I think of something better.” 

He hoped this didn’t make him sound as much like a stalker as it seemed to from his end. 

His Highness regarded the string curiously, eyes squinted.

“It can really do that?” he asked, impressed. 

“Yes. Though I understand if that seems… suffocating. It was only a suggestion.”

It was supposed to be a wedding gift one day.

His Highness simply reached out, presenting his hand to Hua Cheng expectantly. 

“Oh, right now?” Hua Cheng blinked, bewildered by his eagerness. His Highness flinched then, and his fingers started to curl back, as if realizing he had made a mistake.

Hua Cheng caught that hand in his before His Highness could withdraw it, keeping it well in place and holding his God’s gaze for a long moment. Once sure His Highness wouldn’t retreat again, he gently let go and pulled free one of the strings knotted on his finger. Then, he reached over and tied the other end around his God’s. A tiny embrace. A promise of his protection from now on. Part of his mind drifted involuntarily to the cave, where his god had done the same for him with a bit of his own hair.

That tension had crept back in the air and he couldn’t help but feel that this was a significant moment. It reminded him of the moment he realized his God planned to keep his ashes around his neck.

With a small twirl of his finger, the middle part of the red string disappeared. It now appeared as if the string reaching from each finger just faded away, but you could see which direction it hung in. 

“You’re sure this is alright?” Hua Cheng asked. His Highness nodded.

“It’s… comforting. Although I would hate to have to ask anything of you again, well, last time I was in trouble, I didn’t have anyone to help me. I’m glad you can find me if something should ever happen again.” 

Hua Cheng relaxed finally, though his chest also tightened a bit with sorrow. 

“Good, then. And if you ever need anything, even just some company on the road, do not hesitate to ask, gege. I have nothing but time.” His God’s expression lit up at that.

“Alright. We definitely should take a trip together sometime.”

Hua Cheng was taken aback but utterly delighted. He never imagined His Highness would come to enjoy his company that much. He should be sick of him by now.

“San Lang, is… is this goodbye right now?” he stammered, His Highness’s happiness shifting to alarm. 

“N-not unless you wish it to be,” he replied, that unease from earlier rearing its ugly head. Hua Cheng really wasn’t ready to be parted from him so soon. 

“Maybe not just yet. I am mostly back to normal, but… I’d like to stay just a little longer, if that’s okay? I would like to make some kind of plan before I leave.”

“I told you, gege. Paradise Manor is your home. Whenever you need it to be, for however long you need it to be.”

The smile his God graced him with shone brighter than the summer sun above, more lovely than any blossom in the garden.

They walked out from under the canopy of the trees, and Xie Lian was hit with the full weight of the sun. Clouds still hung thick in the sky, but it seemed the sun had decided to give him this moment anyway. He let himself soak it in. He felt energized, like a walking flower himself. He still wondered if he was the flower Crimson Rain had sought, but he dared not ask. Dared not assume.

He had spent months feeling like he was slowly dragging this heavy, obstinate body around. Now Xie Lian felt like he was floating down this garden path. The moment he had been dreading the past few weeks had passed and gone remarkably well. Not only was he still welcome in Paradise Manor if he wanted, but he had a sure-fire way to find his way back to Hua Cheng if he needed him. He wondered now why he’d been so certain that Hua Cheng wouldn’t let him stay if he asked. He knew how close they had grown, so why wouldn’t he let himself believe it?

He still felt he would have to return to the world again soon. He needed to remember how to be a person. There were still fears he needed to face. It would be much easier, however, knowing there was someone he could call upon for help if he needed it. That he had a home to return to when his feet began to hurt.

As they walked, he kept peeking down at that red string on his finger, and each time he did, his chest filled with warmth. 

By now, the stone path they had been following had weaved them towards a small stream with an ornate little wooden bridge. They paused on it, and Xie Lian looked over the railing and down at the trout swimming below. Now that the sun was out, they were graced with the appearance of butterflies. Birds had also broken out in a sweet chorus—much different from the haunting night birds of the ghost realm. There were so many sights and sounds he had yet to remember. To even realize he had forgotten.

As they rested here, the number of butterflies doubled and tripled—butterflies of all colors and shapes, though none were silver like those that came from Hua Cheng’s vambraces. He surmised that this garden must have been planted specifically to attract them. It was a magical thing to witness, almost unnatural. 

Hua Cheng bent over, resting his elbows on the railing, and cupped his cheek, gazing over at Xie Lian with a tranquil smile. This was the first time Xie Lian had seen him in full sunlight. His skin appeared strikingly white against the tousled black of his hair, but that void-dark eye now glittered bright like fine amber. He was still gorgeous, especially when he was looking at him like that. Xie Lian’s heart leapt in his chest like one of the trout. He didn't dare give his mind the time to wander, so he simply tugged on Hua Cheng’s sleeve, and they continued on.

Though it wasn’t much but a little walk through some gardens, something they’d done many times before, today felt different. He couldn't help but think that this felt like a date. There was really no other word for it. It was silly to think so, but how else could it possibly look? What would the rumor-mongers of Ghost City say?

Just a fallen god and his last believer, walking arm in arm through the garden while tucking flowers into each other's hair—just good friends spending some quality time?! 

But then again, how could it be anything else? What about Hua Cheng’s Special Someone?

Xie Lian really was confused about what they were to each other, but he supposed they didn’t have to define what they had. Their relationship seemed like a strange thing without borders, not comparable to anyone else. All that really mattered was that they cared about each other, right? He didn’t want to make it awkward by reading too far into the ghost king's actions.

Distracted by his overthinking, Xie Lian stumbled on a loose rock in the cobbled path—his persistent bad luck ever hot on his heels. Before he could fall, Hua Cheng caught him by the arms and pulled him back upright. The incredible part was that the moment it happened, he expected to be caught. He knew Hua Cheng would not let him fall. When had he last trusted anyone so much?

He rubbed at his forehead, slightly mortified at his lack of coordination. He was glad the ghost’s good fortune seemed to cancel out his own bad luck every time. 

“Thank you, San Lang,” he said with a laugh. 

“Of course,” Hua Cheng responded kindly and slowly let his arms go.

One hand still lingered, just barely resting under his forearm, as if worried he’d trip again.

Was it really all in his head that he felt Hua Cheng was reluctant to release him? Was it really so impossible that this might actually be a date?

It felt absurd and self-gratifying to consider it, but there had been so many small moments like this over the past few months. Lingering gazes and touches, indirect kisses. At one point, Xie Lian had been pretending to nap and peeked through his lashes as the ghost actually pressed a gentle kiss to a lock of his hair. 

Where was the line between love and friendship? Between either of those and worship? 

While Xie Lian would love to be Hua Cheng’s new special someone, he also knew, for him, something like that was also bound to end in disaster.

They finally came full circle, back to the path on which this stroll had begun. Xie Lian recognized the large, showy hibiscus flowers. 

“Ready to go home now?” Hua Cheng asked him. 

Home. 

“Yes, I’m getting a bit tired now.”

“How did you like the garden?” he asked smoothly. 

Hua Cheng knew full well how amazing this place was. Xie Lian just shrugged, trying to look unimpressed.

“It was okay.”

A glance at the ghost king revealed genuine distress. Xie Lian laughed to dispel it and nudged him with his shoulder. 

“It was beyond compare, San Lang. What an appropriate place for you to choose—a butterfly garden.” 

Hua Cheng’s face softened in relief. Xie Lian was kind of amazed that he had the power to make the ghost’s confidence waver like that. He’d best be careful.

Hua Cheng pulled out his dice, his plucky attitude restored, and whisked them back to Paradise Manor.

Xie Lian collapsed on the bed immediately, lying on his back, his boots still scraping the floor. Though he was much stronger now, it was times like this that he was reminded he had a ways to go. His feet hurt, and so did his lower back.

“Butterflies?” Hua Cheng asked, looking down at him, one hand resting on his hip.

“Sure,” he mumbled as he closed his eyes.

He felt them flutter down and rest on him, and he sighed. Hua Cheng had never recalled his night lights. Even after all this time, he never let Xie Lian wake up in the dark. Xie Lian had never even asked for this; Hua Cheng just knew he needed it. 

He would miss having these things around. He would miss having Hua Cheng around to talk to everyday.

There was a part that really wanted to just live here permanently. 

But he also knew he shouldn’t do that.

Living here would not be penance. It would only invite tragedy and disaster.

Despite his dread, it was a good thing that he would soon be back out in the world again. Their time together had been so insular—maybe some time away would allow him to think clearly again. He knew Hua Cheng would never be far, so really, he shouldn’t worry just because they wouldn’t be attached at the hip anymore.

He hated to be at the mercy of his bad luck once more, but he could not rely on Hua Cheng to shield him from it. He would have to grin and bear it, as he always had. This was his atonement, and he had chosen it—asked for it. After what he had nearly done to Yong’an? After what he had done to Wu Ming? He couldn’t forget that this was the life he earned. 

He looked up at the ghost, standing tall and powerful, a king of his own making. Though he seemed so different from Wu Ming, there were so many things about him that reminded Xie Lian of that poor soul. That moment in the garden had been positively jarring. It was still so painful to think about. 

A part of him that feared that, given enough time and his ill luck, he might lead this ghost to a similar fate. He and Wu Ming were both so devoted, whether he deserved it or not. Xie Lian couldn’t bear the thought of history repeating itself. 

He shouldn’t stay anywhere permanently. He didn't need another Gilded Banquet. He was a god of misfortune and it was about time for him to walk his own path again.

He reached up and looked at that red string tied to his finger, glowing bright red. 

At least he could rest assured that he and Hua Cheng’s paths were bound to cross again and again.

Xie Lian was back in the Gambler’s Den.

A few weeks had passed since his first foray into the mortal realm, and Xie Lian was making himself comfortable in Ghost City.

He’d spent this last month in and out, both “working” as an assisting croupier and just frequenting it for fun when Hua Cheng had some other errand to attend. He’d been given some job training and could work here if he wanted, but his services weren’t necessarily required at any given time. Mostly, he was just killing time and socializing. 

Usually Yin Yu would be around too, keeping an eye on the place, and Xie Lian often kept him company. Lately, however, like today, Yin Yu had begun excusing himself and disappearing for long stretches of time. Xie Lian thought he was on Hua Cheng’s orders at first, but when he asked him once, he divulged it to be personal matters and begged Xie Lian to cover for him. Of course, Xie Lian agreed. Whatever was going on with him seemed important to him, and Xie Lian didn’t think Yin Yu got nearly enough time off anyway. 

Xie Lian had no problem with him stepping out. There were plenty of other folks to talk to.

Xie Lian liked the atmosphere of this place, even with its wild and tumultuous nature. Though it was, at times, hard to watch, he enjoyed the high-stakes spectacle of folks betting high and either winning or losing big. He also just got a kick out of seeing the wide variety of characters who wandered in. All of them had wild stories to tell and had walked many paths in life. He had begun to know and become friendly with many of the regulars, and they had accepted him as a fellow citizen of Ghost City, even though he was among the living.

Of course, word had also gotten around that he was special to their Chengzhu, so no one would dare speak ill of him either. He still got the feeling most of them genuinely liked him.

They often traded gossip and today’s gossip concerned several Heavenly Officials in disguise that had been seen in town, being especially nosy. While it actually wasn’t a big deal for the occasional god to indulge in the sins of this place, having multiple wanderers around was a bit alarming. There were hushed whispers of potential conflict—perhaps even some kind of heavenly raid!

Xie Lian felt uneasy. He knew Hua Cheng and Heaven were at odds, but he couldn’t imagine what he could have done recently to upset them. Most of his time he spent with Xie Lian, after all, especially these past couple months. Then again, there was no telling what kind of mischief the ghost king got into once Xie Lian went to sleep.

This evening, Hua Cheng had something to sort out with another ghost. Xie Lian had wanted to come along, but Hua Cheng preferred he stay out of such dangers until he’d restored his full strength. It was the same reason he wasn’t allowed to work as a bouncer yet. It made sense, but it also still stung to hear. He now wondered if the real issue he faced might be these covert heavenly incursions. 

Xie Lian was chatting with some other regulars a few feet away from one of the main tables, where it was easier to hear. Some fellow loudly proclaimed to be wagering the lives of all seven of his children, and Xie Lian’s buddies all scattered to watch. He was left feeling a bit too disquieted by today’s news to enjoy the show. Instead, he wandered back a ways to an area where some tables and chairs were set up for drinking and took a seat by himself.

He rested his chin on his palm and let himself grow lost in his thoughts, wondering what on earth was bound to happen now. 

His instincts were telling him something big loomed on the horizon. He hoped dearly that it wasn’t caused by the shackle on his ankle. Could staying here this long with his misfortune be the end of this city? Could he somehow cause an all-out war between the realms of gods and ghosts simply by hanging out in San Lang’s manor for six months?

It took him a long time to notice two people had sat across the table from him. He jumped when he realized, and quickly apologized. He was taken aback as he took in the sight of them—they were not wearing masks, but they were clearly human… or… actually, they weren’t, were they?

Their eyes were fixed on him with knowing stares. 

He knew that they knew who he was from the instant their eyes locked. Two heavenly officials dressed in bad disguises. They both wore clothing and armor that was too clean and nice to belong to a human in Ghost City. Most humans who wandered to this place were desperate and poor—that's why they came to gamble with something other than coin. These two stuck out like a sore thumb—anyone would know from a glance where they were from.

One of these officials had light brown hair, shorter bangs, and very sharp, discerning eyes. He was looking at Xie Lian with a thunderous expression. The other person had longer black hair and thicker eyebrows—he was looking at Xie Lian almost in awe, like he couldn’t believe what he saw. 

Xie Lian didn’t know if they were about to start a fight or order him a drink.

“Fancy seeing you here, Your Highness,” the one with brown hair said. 

Xie Lian winced at the obvious mockery of his inflection. He had grown too used to the way Hua Cheng and Yin Yu used his title—with the utmost respect.

He was too perplexed to be offended, however. How did they recognize him? In this state, he certainly didn’t look like a martial god. He was also wearing expensive robes of black, red, and gold to match the Gambler’s Den, rather than his go-to cultivator white. These two must know his face. 

That was curious.

“You must be the heavenly officials everyone is talking about,” Xie Lian said pleasantly in return, giving them a warm smile. 

Both of them were startled at this, and they shared a disconcerted look. They really didn’t know Ghost City was already on to them? He wanted to laugh at them, but he held his tongue. 

The dark-haired one elbowed the other harshly in the ribs.

“I told you we should wear masks!” he said scathingly, his voice rough and strangely familiar. He saw the brown-haired one raise his fist in return, about to hit him back.

“I wouldn’t,” Xie Lian interjected. “The bouncers here are very testy about violent displays.” 

The fist hesitated and dropped, though his expression toward his partner remained icy. 

“So, you two recognize me. I’m not the reason you’re here, right?” he asked, trying not to sound as worried as he felt.

“No, you aren’t the god we were looking for,” said the dark-haired one.

“He’s not even a god anymore,” said the other, rolling his eyes. 

Xie Lian wondered what he’d done to offend this man in the entire minute they’d known each other.

The other person’s jaw clenched noticeably and his face reddened, and Xie Lian wasn’t sure if he was offended on his behalf or if this official just hated every word that came from his partner’s mouth. Why were they even paired together?

“What are you doing in a place like this, Your Highness?” the dark-haired one said, suddenly turning to him.

“Part-time job.” 

Both of them looked utterly gob-smacked.

“Y-you're working at the Gambler’s Den of Ghost City?!” Brown-hair asked with barely concealed laughter. 

“Why?” Black-hair asked, looking utterly horrified. 

Xie Lian felt slightly irritated at their response, though he thought he’d hid it well. What was so funny or bad about working here?

“Got to make a living,” he said shortly. “Can I ask who the two of you even are?”

Both of them hesitated, flashing each other mirrored, slightly guilty looks.

“I’m… Nan Feng… a junior official here on orders from General Nan Yang,” said Black-hair.

“Fu Yao. Here on orders from General Xuan Zhen,” said Brown-hair. 

Xie Lian felt his heart drop into his stomach. 

Of all people, they were subordinates of Feng Xin and Mu Qing. No wonder they scorned the very ground each other walked upon. He felt nauseous, realizing they’d probably be reporting this conversation to them. He couldn’t imagine what his old comrades would think of him now. He hoped they wouldn’t want to pay him a visit for any reason.

He also didn’t want to see them on the off chance they’d heard his prayers in the coffin and ignored him. He could taste a little bitterness on the back of his tongue whenever he thought of that.

Unless his former friends kept really accurate paintings of him on their walls, Xie Lian was beginning to suspect these two were officials he had met back when he was still a god. 

“So then, how did you recognize me? I can’t imagine I still look much like the Crown Prince of Xianle,” he asked.

“You’re not wrong,” Fu Yao said, looking at his rather striking robes with deep distaste. 

“You look ill,” said Nan Feng, and there was actually a hint of concern. Xie Lian self-consciously pulled at his sleeves, as if to better hide his thin wrists from view.

“What the hell happened to you anyway?" Fu Yao asked. “Trying a little too hard to fit in with the ghosts? Or does this place have no food fit for humans?” 

Xie Lian now struggled to keep his usual smile plastered on. Sure, he had made that same joke a few times, but it hurt to hear it from someone else. He was just beginning to think he looked okay again, and now this. He wanted to crawl under the table and out of sight. 

“I went through a hard time recently, but I’m fine now,” he said, somewhat coldly. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Why do we have to answer to you? You think you’re still the Crown Prince?” asked Fu Yao caustically. 

He also sounded a bit familiar now. For just a moment, Xie Lian thought of those cruel, jeering officials on Mount Taicang all those years ago. Xie Lian sighed in defeat. This wasn’t worth pushing for.

"Okay, then, is there something I can help you with? So you can be on your way back to your generals?”

The two looked him up and down, as if deciding whether or not they could trust him, even though apparently he was now a local and under Hua Cheng’s employment. 

“We’re investigating a case of a missing god,” Nan Feng said seriously. Fu Yao shot him a reproachful glance, then relented immediately and added— 

“He’s been missing for about 5 months. We don’t have proof he’s here, but this is the last place we can guess to look for the moment.”

“Oh? Which god is that?” Xie Lian asked, now properly curious.

“General Tai Hua, Martial God of the East,” Fu Yao said quietly. By the inflection and tone of his voice, this was a god Xie Lian was definitely supposed to know.

“Sorry, I’m not too familiar with the gods of the current age,” he said lightly. It felt strangely good to let them know he couldn’t care less about who was up there now.

“It’s alright. He’s actually a fairly new god,” Nan Feng reassured him. 

“Formerly the Crown Prince of Yong’an,” said Fu Yao, making a face. 

“Lang Qianqiu.”

Chapter Text

Lang Qianqiu lay in the dark, still and quiet as a corpse. 

Anyone who might look into this coffin would probably assume he was dead. If he really put all his willpower into it, he could tug at the bindings of this spell enough to blink, but he preferred to just keep his eyes closed now. It’d be dark either way. He had no concept of how long it had been. Probably months. It felt like at least a year to him. 

He now knew real hunger, weakness, and thirst for the first time in his life, and it certainly put things into perspective. He wished he’d done more for the poor and hungry of his kingdom. It felt like his own body was trying to cannibalize him from the inside out. If he ever got out of here, even if he was no longer a god, this was what he’d dedicate the rest of his mortal life to—feeding people. Rain Master had the right idea.

He had experimented with the practice of inedia in the past, but found he enjoyed food too much to let it go. Without spiritual power and without some other supplement like sunlight, his attempts to suppress his hunger here were futile. He didn’t lose weight as rapidly as a normal person might, but it definitely still took its toll on his muscles and energy. It was hard to stay awake for long. 

Hunger was a pain that Lang Qianqiu learned of slowly over time, but the first few weeks had been pain of a different kind. His mind had been engulfed in the wild flames of confusion, doubt, fury, and indignation. He couldn’t believe he had been beaten so soundly. 

He was the martial god of the East! One of the strongest gods in Heaven! 

And yet that man had defeated him like he was nothing. Fueled by frustration and fury, he had raged and railed against the spells embedded in that stake for days, but to no avail. All he’d done was cause a lot more bleeding and exhaustion in the end. 

What a miserable situation to be in on top of all his other injuries—pierced through the heart and slashed all to pieces. He wondered if, by healing the old-fashioned way, he would now find himself covered in scars. It was too dark to see, and he couldn’t move his arms to reach over and feel any of the wounds. He hated the thought of those scars being a constant reminder of such a humiliating defeat.

The wounds left by that deranged scimitar burned and itched for weeks and weeks. It took forever for them to close, and even though they had now, the memory of the pain seemed to linger, still fresh. That weapon had to be extremely cursed. Though the cuts were torturous things, the strangest thing was that the dowel piercing his heart didn’t hurt at all. 

That raw wound in his chest ripped itself open again and again with every beat, and yet he could hardly feel it. He felt the pressure of it, but that was all. He knew there was a spell on it to keep him alive, but he was fairly certain that ghost had wanted him in pain. Was this side effect an unforeseen consequence of the life-preserving spell, or was it something else? 

It was hard to put his finger on it, but so many weeks in the dark with nothing else to concentrate on had heightened other instincts within him that he had usually ignored—instincts outside of the realm of the physical. For whatever reason, he’d come to think the dowel was alive in some way. Maybe not sentient, not possessed of a spirit, but he could feel intent from it, and it’s intent was not to harm. He was convinced that he didn’t feel pain because it didn’t want him to. In a strange way, he didn’t feel alone in here. It was extremely bizarre.

He wondered if it had been forged from some kind of special tree or at a sacred site, one that had been especially blessed in some way. The exact opposite of that wicked saber. Either way, it was a relief. He’d felt the pain of being freshly pierced, but it had grown less and less intense over those first few days. He could not imagine what it would be like to have to feel that particular wound in perpetuity.

Like the State Preceptor apparently had.

He wondered how his teacher had managed not to flinch or awaken when he drove the stake in.

Lang Qianqiu still, after months of agonizing, had no idea what to think or feel about any of this after that rather one-sided conversation. He didn’t feel like he had all the facts he needed to put it all together, so in the end, there was no point chewing on it. It wasn’t easy, forcing his mind to be calm in the face of so many unknowns. He hadn’t known his teacher was actually a god, let alone the god his family had rebelled against, so really, it felt like he knew nothing at all. 

He would find out, though. It may take years, but eventually he would get out of this coffin, and he would get his fucking answers. 

He did wonder how the State Preceptor had endured this for seventy years. The stake Lang Qianqiu used had only been enchanted so that he couldn’t rise from the dead as some kind of vengeful demon. He himself was the only one who could not pull it out. A fact much crueler in retrospect. It’s not like he could have known his teacher was immortal. The man in red made it seem like his divine shackle kept him alive, but that seemed an odd effect for a shackle to have. He’d never even heard of it. Banished gods were supposed to just diminish and die. How unfortunate for him. 

If he could go back in time and tell himself what he knew now, he wasn’t sure what he would have done. On the one hand, being buried alive forever seemed too cruel a punishment for any crime. On the other hand this man murdered his family, and there should be no punishment harsh enough. 

Though he constantly scolded himself for focusing on the unknowns, he had little else to do. The ghost's words came back to him off and on, those little statements that had sown doubt in his heart about the truth of the Gilded Banquet. 

Why say the State Preceptor still admired him? Why say he wouldn’t have wanted this? Why hadn’t the State Preceptor come to get revenge himself instead of sending this rabid dog after him? Who even was this ridiculously powerful ghost, and what if some of the nonsense he spat held truth?

But I caught him in the act! 

Not only that, but when he’d confronted him, the State Preceptor hadn’t said anything to defend himself or point him in another direction. Why would he take the blame? And if he was a former martial god, Crown Prince of Xianle, famous for his swordsmanship, why had he just let little mortal Lang Qianqiu beat him? 

Why would he just let himself be buried alive!? None of this made any sense!

Lies. It's all just lies spewed by that demon.

He was probably just trying to mess with him, to cause him further torment in this coffin. Trying to make him feel guilty for his actions. Fat chance. Why should he believe the words of someone who wasn’t even there? If the ghost actually believed all that nonsense, then clearly the the State Preceptor had filled his head with a false narrative in order to save face. He probably wasn’t even the Crown Prince of Xianle.

Though he’d told himself these things a thousand times now, some of the things the man in red said still stirred up worry within him. Mostly, he just worried that if he punished the wrong person… didn’t that mean the real murderer got away with it ?

He could not bear such a thought. 

He really hoped the State Preceptor had done it. He really, really did. If not, he might have buried alive the one person he had left who felt like family. Then again, by taking the blame, that meant the State Preceptor let the real murderer go. He covered for him. There was no way he had been on his side in either case. 

Once again, none of this made any sense.

He just needed to calm down and be patient. Stop chewing. Wait until he had all the facts. 

Nothing could stop or slow the constant onslaught of time, and sometimes that was a good thing. He would be freed at some point. If not by his allies in heaven, then by that rotten ghost. He could wait seventy years if he had to. “The Crown Prince of Xianle” clearly didn’t age. He would still get his answers. He would not despair in the meantime. 

He’d already survived the worst pains of hunger and thirst. The rest would be easy.

His master had always told him he needed to learn patience. 

It was good to have something worth waiting for.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian froze at the mention of that name.

Lang Qianqiu?

“We don’t suspect he is dead —apparently the Divine Emperor has some way of confirming that, but we do think he’s been taken by someone,” Nan Feng continued.

Lang Qianqiu ascended? He became a martial god?!

“He’s lost a huge number of worshipers in his absence. If we don’t find him soon, he could lose divine status.”

Why wouldn’t San Lang have mentioned his ascension? We’ve talked about him several times.

“Apparently, he was prayed to and lured to a forest just outside of Yinliang Village.”

Who could even abduct a martial god? It’d have to be another god, wouldn’t— 

Wait.

Xie Lian hardly heard anything else they were saying. Too many thoughts were suddenly racing through his mind at once—the rest of the world was gone. All that existed was Xie Lian’s growing panic.

If he didn’t bring it up, that meant Hua Cheng hadn’t wanted him to know. He hadn’t wanted Xie Lian to know that the person who buried him alive had ascended. 

Five months missing meant he disappeared after Xie Lian was rescued. 

Old conversations were drifting back to the surface.

"Sometimes ruining someone is more satisfying than killing them."

“There’s someone I must meet with today.”

Xie Lian thought then of the fury he had seen in Hua Cheng’s eye during their first trip to the Gambler’s Den. He thought about what he did to the man who’d only thrown a stool in his direction, and not even at him specifically. 

“Your pain means something to me.”

Oh no.

“Your Highness?” Nan Feng said then, waving his hand over Xie Lian’s eyes. “Are you still with us?”

“Yes!” he said, snapping back to the present. “Sorry, I was just… thinking.”

“You have a hunch about where he is?” Fu Yao asked.

“S-sorry, no, I don’t.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You somehow look even paler,” Nan Feng said.

“I’m fine, sorry,  I’m just surprised that Lang Qianqiu ascended. I met him a long time ago.”

“I see… well, our best guess is that the perpetrator of this abduction is actually your employer,” Fu Yao said quietly, giving him a deeply suspicious glare. Xie Lian forced a laugh. 

“Really? What makes you say that?” Xie Lian asked, trying desperately to sound conversational.

“He’s the only one strong enough—and brazen enough,” Fu Yao said as he crossed his arms. “Unless it was another Heavenly Official, anyhow.”

“It’s not exactly the first time Hua Cheng has destroyed a god by sowing discord among their followers,” Nan Feng said gravely, subconsciously copying his partner, arms crossed. “We do have one Junior Official of his we are looking into, but Jun Wu was adamant that we rule out all our actual enemies before pointing fingers at one another.”

“I have heard Hua Cheng and Heaven don’t get along, but why would he go after Lang Qianqiu?” Xie Lian asked, as if he didn’t already know. 

“HAH. Don’t get along? Your Highness, do you even know who Hua Cheng is? What he’s DONE?” Fu Yao whispered harshly. 

Xie Lian glanced around, making sure they weren’t being listened to. One eye was also searching out for any butterflies in the vicinity. 

“I mean… a little bit…” he stammered. But actually, no, he did not.

“He killed thirty-three gods ! He burned all their temples in a single evening,” Nan Feng whispered.

“Thousands of them! And every time their worshipers would try to build anew, he’d burn them down again. He just kept doing that until all their followers left. He’s the Scourge of Heaven! That’s the guy you are working for!” 

Xie Lian was dumbstruck. Ok, so “not getting along” was a rather weak way to put it…

It’s not that Hua Cheng wasn’t capable, but for something that extreme, he’d definitely have to have a good reason. Xie Lian was sure they must have done something unforgivable. Hua Cheng was mischievous but he wasn’t needlessly vicious.

“Why those thirty-three gods?” he asked, folding his hands on the table, Lang Qianqiu momentarily forgotten. 

“Why does it matter?” Nan Feng asked.

“They must have done something to offend him, right? They must all have something in common.”

“He didn’t bother to explain,” Fu Yao said sharply.

“The only thing linking them was that they were all roughly from the same generation. They all were appointed to the middle court around the same time and later ascended mostly together into the upper court.” 

Xie Lian puzzled at that. It definitely wasn’t random then. They had all done something together, most likely. Or around the same time. Part of the same conspiracy?

“How long ago did they ascend?” he asked slowly.

“This isn’t even about them,” Fu Yao said, banging a fist lightly on the table. “Stop trying to think of an excuse for that demon’s actions. Are you his lapdog? Is your job that fucking important?”

There was a short silence as it became apparent that several other citizens of Ghost City were now looking over curiously at their table. Fu Yao took a moment to sit back and calm himself.

“They came from the same generation as our generals. I actually think… our generals are the only two that avoided that fate,” Nan Feng said, still willing to indulge him. Xie Lian was appreciative. Nan Feng continued.

“But Fu Yao is right. That happened ages ago. Centuries. If Hua Cheng is to blame now, we need to stop Lang Qianqiu from potentially becoming his 34th casualty. That we know of, anyhow.” 

Xie Lian’s stomach was all tied up in knots. They weren’t wrong, but this wasn’t going to be their task. It was his. He was the reason Lang Qianqiu went missing. Hua Cheng had obviously taken it upon himself to avenge him. Xie Lian should be the one to save him and apologize. 

What an absolute mess.

Though he was upset and angry about that, something about the thirty-three gods was upsetting him far more. It was something biting at the back of his mind. If they were around back when Mu Qing and Feng Xin ascended, then they were around when Xie Lian was going through the roughest time in his life. 

Hua Cheng had once said that he disliked how the world had treated him after the fall of Xianle. Xie Lian hated to think this might be related to him as well. The whole world was burning his temples and breaking his statues, though, so it couldn’t just be that they gave him that terrible nickname or something? Was it that they didn’t back him up when he needed help?

After descending, he'd hardly interacted with any Heavenly Officials directly, so this didn't seem very likely after all. Well, unless he had a way of knowing about what happened when those heavenly officials and Mu Qing kicked him off of that mountain, anyhow. But he couldn't have known about that unless he was there.

An image sprang to his mind, a furious little ghost fire in the clutches of one of those heavenly officials as they accused him of commanding it to attack them.

No way. Just, No.

He was overthinking again. Those heavenly officials’ deaths almost had to be related to that Special Someone of Hua Cheng's or perhaps something else entirely. You don’t kill thirty-three people just because they bullied someone you like. Xie Lian was blowing all this out of proportion. Not everything had to be about him after all.

He tried to calm himself down, fighting the urge to just up run from the room.

The two officials were bickering now about something, and thankfully they hadn’t noticed the small breakdown he was having.

“I’m not saying it’s impossible for the two incidents to be related, I’m just saying it’s not likely.” Fu Yao said through gritted teeth.

"Well, we have so many leads to follow right now, so why bother considering it, right?” 

Xie Lian cleared his throat. It was time to leave. He had a lot of unpleasant things he would have to say to Hua Cheng, and he’d rather get it over with sooner rather than later.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I don’t think I can actually help you, so I’m going to go back to work.” 

The two stopped giving each other death glares and looked over at him.

“Regardless of my opinion of my employer, I have no information. It’s not like Hua Cheng announces all his evil plans at a weekly town hall meeting,” Xie Lian said dismissively.

“Well then, thanks for wasting our time,” Fu Yao spat. Xie Lian raised his eyebrows.

“I didn’t invite you over to chat,” he said coolly. The official scowled at him—even more than usual. He wondered what Mu Qing must have said about him to warrant this kind of blatant dislike.

“Your Highness… you really should find a new employer,” Nan Feng said, pushing his chair back. “Whether he did this or not, he’s not a good guy. At best, he’s a shape-shifting trickster who ruins people’s lives for fun.”

“Yeah, and he’s probably keeping you around like a trophy. Or a pet. I bet he gets a real kick out of having a fallen god on a leash,” Fu Yao said with a snort as he rose from his chair. 

Xie Lian’s mind sprang suddenly to Yin Yu, and he cringed slightly. Fu Yao stepped away, but Nan Feng seemed to linger for a moment, like there was something he wanted to say. 

Xie Lian got the impression that this official was genuinely worried about him, which was surprising, but it was kind of nice to know not every Heavenly Official defaulted straight to disdain.

“You don’t owe him a big gambling debt or something, do you?” Nan Feng asked lowly, out of earshot of his partner. 

“No. I asked if I could work here,” Xie Lian said. Nan Feng’s eyebrows knitted together as he considered him.

“Just what was it that happened? What “hard time” befell you, anyway?" Xie Lian stilled. This wasn’t a conversation he was willing to have with anyone yet, let alone someone who worked for Feng Xin. 

He quickly broke eye contact with the official, staring at his hands and at that red string. He felt deeply sad. 

“If you must know, you could try sorting through your general’s most ignored prayers. Prayers from someone who had nothing to offer up,” he smiled ruefully. “Then again, those desperate sorts of prayers probably don’t make it to heaven.” 

He sighed and stood as well. When he finally looked at the official, he could see he was deeply unnerved by his words. Xie Lian could tell he was fiercely loyal to his general.

“I don’t owe Hua Cheng a gambling debt. But I do owe him for helping me out of a very bad situation. Even if he is the Scourge of Heaven and a killer of gods, and a-a god-napper… he’s the one who saved me. I owe him.” He gave the official an apologetic but measured stare.

Then he turned and excused himself. 

He walked several feet away before finally turning back.

The two officials had moved on. They were talking to someone who was clearly a third heavenly official—this one was a woman who was talking animatedly at them from behind a fan. Not even a little bit inconspicuous. 

He watched the woman drag the two protesting officials towards the front door. As she did, he was surprised to see the two suddenly shift into new forms. He could only see their backs, but all that seemed to change were their hair colors and styles. 

That was all?

They really were bad at disguises. If he wasn’t so upset, he might have laughed.

Xie Lian normally would just call Hua Cheng if he needed a quick trip back, but he didn’t want to ask him right now. A walk through town back to the manor would help him clear his head and think of what to say. 

He dreaded the conversation to come. He didn’t like being angry at this person who had done so much for him. Part of him felt he had no right to be. The ghost could go after anyone he wanted, heavenly official or not, if it pleased him. He just couldn’t stand the thought that he was the cause. It was just another thing that was all his fault. Also, despite everything, he cared about Lang Qianqiu, and he was worried for him.

Things would be better once Lang Qianqiu was free. 

Maybe all this could just blow over and they could move on amiably—but only if the ghost promised never to do something like that again. Only if he felt like he could believe that promise. He knew the ghost was willing to do many things for him, but there had to be a line drawn somewhere. This was… waaay over that line.

He had trusted Hua Cheng. Though he loved his mischievous side, he was not okay with this. He was not okay with being the one Hua Cheng had plotted around. He hoped he could find the strength to douse the flames of outrage within him. He hoped one day he would feel like he could trust him again. He hoped this wasn’t his bad luck showing its true face at last to ruin the only good thing he’d found in his life.

Even if it was against his cultivation, even if he had no right to it, Xie Lian was angry.

It must have been obvious, for no one approached him the entire walk home.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. 

Hua Cheng could tell from the moment His Highness stepped in the door. Hua Cheng had just been about to go fetch him for dinner when he arrived home, unexpectedly early.

His Highness was acting very strangely. He was ignoring him. When he did look at him, his expression was decidedly cold. Hua Cheng attempted to make light conversation, joking and trying to ease the mood, but His Highness hardly said anything back. He simply went behind the dressing screen to change out of his Gambler’s Den attire and back into his usual white robes.

His Highness was clearly angry, very possibly at him, for some reason. Hua Cheng could not guess what he could have done while they were apart. There must be some kind of misunderstanding? For some reason, Hua Cheng was too afraid to ask. This didn’t feel like something small. He’d seen him irritable before, during darker moments of his recovery, but it was never directed at Hua Cheng. Never.

This awkwardness didn’t last long before a servant at the door announced that dinner was ready.

He had almost expected His Highness not to come and eat with him. But his God silently stood up and followed him to their usual spot—a little side room off the grand main dining hall.

Dinner was immaculate, as it always was. After all, his chef had served kings in his lifetime. Hua Cheng ate very slowly, all of his attention completely fixed on His Highness and the way he was poking around his plate, and not eating anything at all. He looked unwell.

Did he think it was poisoned or something? Was he just not feeling good? Did someone do or say something to him at the gambling hall?

Finally, Hua Cheng could not stand it any longer.

“Gege, is something wrong?” 

His Highness said nothing for a long time, as if deciding whether he wanted to keep torturing him or not.

“There’s an awful lot of gossip that goes on in the Gambler’s Den,” he said quietly. 

Ah, so that was what was going on. Hua Cheng did have a reputation. There were many stories out there about him, and most of them painted him in a pretty villainous color. 

Well, it's not like he hadn’t stated over and over that he was a bad man.

“You can’t believe all you hear in such a place, especially about me. But if you ask me about something you hear, I will tell you the truth,” he said, crossing his arms on the table and leaning forward. 

“So what did you hear, gege?”

“You promise you won’t lie to me?” his God asked, still coldly. His eyes finally flitted up at him. 

“I promise,” he said resolutely. Why the distrust?

“Why didn’t you tell me Lang Qianqiu ascended?” 

Of all things, Hua Cheng hadn’t expected this. At least not yet. 

The vast majority of people referred to him as General Tai Hua, and he hoped after five months the hubbub about it would have died off. He didn’t expect his god to hear about him until he’d practically fallen into myth.

He heaved a resigned sigh. Well shit. How much did he know?

“I guess… I just wasn’t in the mood to count up his accomplishments. Not after what he did to you.”

“I see.” His Highness’s expression had not warmed in the slightest.

“Hua Cheng… You’ve done something to him, haven’t you?”

Hua Cheng stilled. Fear rose up inside him like a snake, poised to strike at his heart.

“…What do you mean?” 

“He’s missing. There are heavenly officials running all around town investigating it. You said you would tell me the truth. Did you do something to him?”

So this was how it was all going to fall apart. Why in the hell hadn’t he been informed of this?!

Where is Yin Yu?! 

Hua Cheng was silent, his mind blasting through a hundred different ways to try and lie or deflect, but all of them would just dig his grave deeper. It was already over. He knew. This was the consequence he hadn’t been prepared for.

“Yes,” he said numbly, eyes plastered firmly on his cold plate of food. 

He heard his god let out a slow breath of air.

“I have one more question.” His God asked, looking tired and sad. 

“Ask me.”

“…Did I… by chance… ever meet you when you were a ghost fire?” 

Hua Cheng’s face shot up then, and he looked at his god in a mixture of shock and horror. His reaction probably said all it needed to. 

His God was also looking back at him, stunned. 

“How—?” Hua Cheng croaked out. “Why are you asking me that? ”

Then that beautiful face fell—it fell into something deeply, deeply sad. His eyes were shining in the lantern light. It had been months since he’d seen his God so distraught. This was also the first time he had been the direct cause. 

“It was just a shot in the dark,” His Highness whispered. “But I didn’t actually think…” His hands slowly moved up and gripped his sleeves, as if to keep himself together. They were trembling noticeably. “You were there when I was kicked off of that mountain weren’t you?” 

Hua Cheng just stared. He was paralyzed. 

What is this?

“All those heavenly officials… You killed them for that? ”

How is this happening?

“…”

“How many people have you gone after because of me?” he asked shakily. 

Hua Cheng felt like he was going to disperse here and now. How had things gone so terribly wrong so fast? How had His Highness come to all these conclusions so quickly? He wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t have any good answers or excuses planned out!

You promised to tell the truth.

“Only those you just mentioned, I swear it,” he said desperately, looking him dead in the eye and hoping with everything that his God could still believe him somehow. 

“But… I didn’t just go up and kill them. I challenged thirty-five of them. Those thirty-three accepted, and they lost. They could have done just what the other two did and chosen not to engage. After I beat them, they wouldn’t hold their side of the bargain and step down from Heaven. So I made them. That’s all.” 

The words tumbled out of his mouth quickly, but he had no idea if the circumstances made anything better or not.

“Did you challenge Lang Qianqiu?” he asked. Hua Cheng paused.

“...I gave him the chance to fight back.” His God let out a very bitter laugh and hid his face in his hand.

“But of course you knew he couldn’t win.”

“I couldn’t—!” Hua Cheng gripped the table, feeling as frustrated as he was afraid. “I couldn’t just do nothing! Not with him parading around heaven like he’d done nothing wrong!”

“But you knew I wasn’t mad at him! I would never want this!” His Highness cried out finally as he dropped his hand, his facade of calm also shattering. Real angry tears were forming in his eyes now.

“You don’t know what you looked like! ” Hua Cheng shouted in return. “You don’t know what you looked like when I—” his throat caught, and he dropped his head into his hands, squeezing his eye tight. He hadn’t been haunted by that image of him in some time. He couldn’t look at him now.

“Lang Qianqiu’s not dead, Your Highness. I wouldn’t kill him. But I needed him to know the pain he caused you. I swear I tried, but I couldn’t just let it go.”

There was a beat of silence, and then his God spoke in a low voice. 

“Hua Cheng… back then… I wanted pain. I chose punishment.” 

Hua Cheng winced. That was enough. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His Highness’s forlorn expression changed then—it hardened, his eyes bright and righteous. 

“You don’t know anything about the things I’ve done,” Xie Lian said in a cold fury, standing up. 

“You know nothing! Nothing about who I really am! I deserve EVERY bad thing that happens to me for the choices I made!” 

His furious tears were falling now down the sides of cheeks, leaving trails of the golden eyeliner Hua Cheng had put on him just this afternoon. Hua Cheng knew exactly what he was referring to.

“You didn’t do it, though.” Hua Cheng said, standing up as well, hands flat on the table, and leaning towards him. “You changed your mind! And even if you had gone through with it, no one would have even blamed you for taking revenge on Yong’an!” 

The words were already out of his mouth before he even realized what he was saying.

His Highness’s face lost all its color, those beautiful eyes larger than he’d ever seen them. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. Well, he had.

Shit.  

His Highness backed up a step or two.

“Y-your Highness?” he said weakly.

“Wu Ming,” he breathed. 

“Your Highness… please… just let me—” but his God turned away from him then and bolted from the room. 

Hua Cheng slowly slumped back into his seat, utterly in shock at what had just happened. At what he just said. He grabbed his plate of food and sent it flying, smashing against a wall. His God’s golden tears marks stood out on the red tablecloth, and Hua Cheng could hardly bear to see it.

He dug his fingers into his hair, resting his elbows on his knees, trying to take control over the terror that now filled him. His God was probably packing right now. He was strong enough to leave. Hua Cheng couldn’t blame him for wanting to at all. 

There were just too many lies of omission. 

His God would never trust him again. 

He had betrayed him. And for what? Vengeance hadn’t even fixed anything in his guilty heart—it just made him more guilty. Six hundred years later, somehow he was still a fool.

It didn’t have to be like this. You've lost him!

You’ve really lost him. 

Even if he always knew where His Highness was, he’d never have what he wanted. Now they couldn’t even be friends.

Hua Cheng could feel his own warm tears making their way down the side of his nose. He hadn’t actually known he could cry as a ghost. No more than he had known his hands could shake or that he could hyperventilate. He dropped his hand down into his lap, staring at the red string. He wondered how long before His Highness would remember and untie it.

He would have liked just a little more time with him before fucking it all up.

Ah, well, I never deserved him anyway.

Xie Lian was standing in the middle of the bedroom, frozen. 

He didn’t feel like he could breathe. He couldn’t even think.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. What to feel. How to even look at Hua Cheng now.

He started pacing, slowly first—then frantically. His hands were trembling, and he just kept running them through his hair until most of it had escaped his bun. He pulled the hair crown off and cast it aside. He kept scrubbing away tears stubbornly, but they just kept coming. Xie Lian floundered in this way for a while, until his body finally receded from his initial fight or flight response. He was about to sink down on the bed until he spotted the butterflies hovering.

Spies.

He charged out onto the balcony instead and leaned heavily on the railing, looking down into Ghost City. The air cooled the sweat on his skin, and slowly his mind began to find focus again.

Hua Cheng is Wu Ming.

His last believer. Not nearly as dead as he thought.

When he first theorized that Hua Cheng was the ghost flame on the mountain, he had completely forgotten to consider that it would also mean he was Wu Ming. He hadn’t even known the two were the same person until Bai Wuxiang had told him, and that was after he had been dispersed.

He hadn’t really even considered the possibility seriously —he hadn’t wanted it to be true. He couldn’t stand the thought that this person had seen him thrown down in the mud and betrayed by one of his last remaining friends. It also meant he’d really destroyed all those gods just for ostracizing him.

It took a long time for it to sink in. Hua Cheng was that ghost fire. 

Hua Cheng had been there when he was drunk in that grave, unable to crawl out. He’d been there at The Temple— he saw what happened there. He’d even tried to ward him away, but Xie Lian hadn’t listened! Hua Cheng knew exactly how far from his pedestal he had fallen.

And if he was Wu Ming, it also meant he had not only seen him nearly become a villain, he had died to protect him from his own terrible decisions. 

Xie Lian sank to the balcony floor, his back against the banister, resting his head in his arms. He probably looked like a pouting child, but he just had so many conflicting emotions. He had to rethink everything he thought he knew about this man who had saved him and who he had fallen for. He had once felt like just one person, a new friend, but now he was several. And boy did they have history.

Why had he been willing to say he was his believer but fail to mention he was that believer? It had been months. At any point, he could have let him know Wu Ming was actually alive. 

Xie Lian should have known better than to trust him so blindly, especially because he already knew of one of Hua Cheng’s white lies. He’d never admitted he was searching for him. He hadn’t just read a book about the gilded banquet and stumbled on his coffin by accident. 

What was he so afraid of? Xie Lian might like him too much? He might be too thankful? Hiding the revenge schemes made sense, but why did he try so hard to hide who he was?

Xie Lian expected to be hurt and angry with him about Lang Qianqiu, but that was just supposed to blow over once they freed him. Now that he knew who he was, he was properly furious. All those years ago, Xie Lian had made a decision—he would not be the sort of person who would seek vengeance. The ghost had actually been there to see that, so why did Hua Cheng think it was okay to seek it out for him? 

He owed Hua Cheng for so many things, but right now he wanted to punch him right in his beautiful, arrogant face. He also still wanted to kiss him. He wanted to apologize for how he treated Wu Ming and beg for forgiveness himself. He kind of wanted to kill him a third time for putting him through this now. 

Mostly, he just wanted to scream as loud as he could. He wanted to scream into the night like one of those strange ghostly birds.

He rubbed his eyes. They were dry but sore now.

It took a long time for him to feel even slightly calm again. At one point, he almost untied the string on his finger. At one point, he thought of removing the ring and chucking it into the city below. Of course, he couldn’t actually do that. He hated feeling this way. He hated to be so angry at someone he loved so much.

Ultimately, he had to accept that he was going to feel resentful towards the Ghost King—this could not be helped. But also, as wrong as his actions might be, they were also still done for him out of devotion as well. He finally understood why Hua Cheng was the way he was—why he cared, why he was so overprotective. As a ghost fire, he had not been able to do much to help him, though he had certainly tried. That little spirit had flung itself at his enemies and tried to warm him in the cold. He knew why Hua Cheng couldn’t let it go and allow Lang Qianqiu to get away with hurting him. 

This didn’t justify what he did, necessarily, but it made it easier for Xie Lian to walk towards the path of forgiveness. 

He didn’t want to burn this bridge. His only bridge to burn. He didn’t want to be alone in the world again. When it came down to it, he had found someone who saw him at his worst, at his most pathetic, at his cruelest, and he accepted him anyway. He still believed in him. He’d never meet another person who would do the same.

As he sat here, digesting everything, trying to remember all their former interactions—things that he’d pushed to the furthest corners of his mind—an odd memory came floating back. A very old conversation. 

That ghost fire, the spirit gathered from the battlefield that he freed from the lantern during the Zhongyuan Festival—that had been him too. White No-Face had said so. That spirit had said it wanted to stay in the world to protect its beloved. Could that be his mysterious “special someone”?

Wu Ming had also mentioned this person, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he wanted to be the one to unleash the spirits in Fangxin to avenge them? What was it he’d said? 

Xie Lian thought hard. It was a time in his life he did not like to dwell on, so it was difficult to recall things. It was something about only being able to watch as they suffered. He felt his stomach lurch. 

… could he have been talking about…?

Another conversation about the special someone came to mind, more recent, now with new context.

“I’ve lied to them, plotted things they would hate if they knew.”

“Through all their troubles, I either wasn’t there for them at all, or I was there but I couldn’t protect them.”

The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning, and the full immensity of the emotions that bubbled to the surface threatened to consume him. Every hair was standing on end.

Xie Lian swallowed thickly, his gaze a million miles away.

Oh, I so don’t have time to unpack that right now. 

He took several deep breaths to keep himself under control. It was him. Everything suddenly seemed perfectly clear. He hadn’t misconstrued a damn thing about the affectionate way Hua Cheng treated him. It made him impossibly happy, but that happiness was also thoroughly tarnished by today’s other revelations—the ghost’s profound betrayal of his trust.

Later. Deal with all that later.

He needed to save Lang Qianqiu. That's what he needed to stay focused on for now. He was far too angry at Hua Cheng to think about that at this moment, and Lang Qianqiu had already spent five months probably starving in a dungeon somewhere. He shouldn’t have to wait any longer. 

Of course, that also meant he would have to face Lang Qianqiu. He was not looking forward to it. How strange.

Right now that seems easier than facing Hua Cheng again. 

He looked up at the night sky. Proper night, not just twilight. It had grown late. 

Hua Cheng was probably punishing himself more than Xie Lian had even planned to. He was very good at that. He could see Wu Ming in him so clearly now, it made his chest tighten. He probably should have realized this sooner, but he had spent centuries thinking him dead.

As he considered this, he had the stray thought that maybe, on some level, he had realized it. He had certainly already noted they were similar. Suddenly that nightmare he’d had the night he broke his ankle came flooding back, sharp and clear, and more horrifying than anything. 

He’d been dreaming of Wu Ming’s death. Except it hadn’t been Wu Ming; it had been Hua Cheng in his place.

Xie Lian rubbed his face with his hands and took a moment to push those images away. He felt Ruoye tightening around his middle, as if trying to forcefully calm his heart.

Later. Later. Later. Lang Qianqiu now, breakdown Later.

He sighed and finally stood up, giving the bandage under his clothes a couple of appreciative pats. 

I'm okay. Well, I'll be okay.

Xie Lian wandered the manor for some time, looking for signs of Hua Cheng, before he remembered he could simply follow the red string. He finally caught sight of him through a window that looked out onto the back garden. Xie Lian made his way to the back entrance and steeled himself before walking out to join him.

Hua Cheng was facing away from him for the most part—Xie Lian could only see part of an eye patch. He was standing out in the middle of the garden, one arm crossed under the other, face up towards the night sky, not so different from how Xie Lian had been just moments ago. 

There was something in his hand—a flower, he thought. Even in this moment, with a heart heavy from betrayal, Xie Lian couldn’t help but appreciate just how beautiful this man was, especially bathed in moonlight. In his natural environment, he seemed to glow. He suddenly bent down and blew on the flower, sending little white seeds off into the night. It was a dandelion he had been holding. 

Xie Lian readied himself and took a step forward.

He tentatively cleared his throat as he grew near, for the ghost had made no sign of noticing his approach. He saw him straighten at once and turn to face him. He only got a quick glimpse of his pale face before suddenly the ghost was kneeling at his feet, painting a very familiar and heart-wrenching picture. 

“Your Highness.”

Everything Xie Lian had just been planning to say flew out the window with such a display. Thankfully, the ghost continued.

“I’ve lied to you by omission. I kept my identity secret. I made decisions directly in opposition to your beliefs and took revenge that you never asked for. I have no right to ask this, but I swear…” He paused, obviously grappling with himself to stay calm and level. 

“I swear, if you just give me one more chance, I’ll prove that I am trustworthy. Not another lie will ever pass these lips if it’s you I’m speaking to. No more secrets. If you must punish me in some way, I will accept it without complaint.” 

With that said, the ghost king sank even lower, into a full kowtow, his forehead pressed against the damp grass.

“Even if you can’t forgive me, I pray, please give me the chance to atone. And if… if you can never stand to be near me again, you can feel free to smash that ring around your neck, then you’ll never have to worry about it.”

Xie Lian was quiet. In this silence, the distant sounds of city revelry could be faintly heard. Xie Lian suddenly understood and couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it earlier. The ring was Hua Cheng’s ashes. 

It had been a very long time since he was actually treated like a proper god, begged, and prayed to. The sight of him prostrated before him felt almost like a physical blow right to his middle. This was not how he wanted to see Hua Cheng, of all people. The Chengzhu of Ghost City, the Calamity, the Scourge of Heaven should not be cowering before him like he were some wrathful deity. Then again, when he had known him as Wu Ming, had he not acted as such? This behavior made sense.

As uncomfortable as it was, there were things he had to say before he could assuage his fears. He tucked his arms into his sleeve and regarded the ghost coldly.

“Wu Ming… were you ever going to tell me you weren’t… gone? ” he asked. 

“... Yes, Your Highness… just not yet.”

“Why wait?”

He could hear Hua Cheng take a deep breath and slowly exhale.

“I guess… I just didn’t know how His Highness would react. I didn’t know how you felt about Wu Ming. And once we got to know each other again… I didn’t want anything to change.” 

Xie Lian felt tears pricking at his eyes, but he was done with all that. He blinked them away.

“And Lang Qianqiu? You were never going to tell me about him?” 

There was a very, very long pause. Xie Lian began to think he wasn’t going to respond.

“No. I was going to let him go after seventy years. He would have lost his godhood by then. I felt that was his due punishment. I regret only that my actions ran counter to His Highness’s wishes and upset him. I would never regret punishing the person who harmed my God so tremendously.”

Xie Lian shook his head and dropped it into his hand, rubbing at his forehead furiously. He was going to lose several layers of skin there by the end of the night.

“And what excuse did you have planned in case I found out on my own? ” he asked. 

He didn’t hear Hua Cheng’s deep exhale, he only saw the grass move below his mouth.

“Well… I had a fallback plan... someone else to blame for his disappearance.”

“So, more lies then.” 

The ghost said nothing. Xie Lian was frustrated but also slightly relieved he was telling the brutally honest truth. 

“San Lang… Wu Ming… Do you… do you even really understand why I am so upset?”

Hua Cheng lifted his head just slightly, enough for that stormy eye to be seen, though his focus remained on the ground. 

“I went behind His Highness’s back and harmed someone he admired.” Hua Cheng uttered.

“It’s not just that…”

Xie Lian began to slowly but anxiously pace in a small circle. He hated to talk about any of this. He hated to think about any of this. Wind rustled the nearby trees, drowning out the faint city noises, but not the chorus of frogs from the lake. 

When he escaped that coffin he’d wanted to just move on.

“San Lang, I live with so much guilt.” Xie Lian’s mournful gaze drifted up to the starry heavens as he paused in his pacing. “Guilt over the loss of my kingdom, my soldiers—the way all those people suffered from the plague. Guilt for letting down my friends and my parents. Guilt for my own revenge scheme and getting you dispersed. Now I live with the guilt of ending my bloodline and taking the life of Lang Qianqiu’s father, whom I deeply respected.” 

He paused to look down at the kneeling man in red, his eyes fiercely stern. 

“The last thing I want or need is more people whose lives I’ve ruined. Even if you did it for me, what you did to those thirty-three gods and to Lang Qianqiu—that’s on me now. You’ve added to the weight I carry.” 

Hua Cheng’s eye went wide and then his forehead hit the grass once more.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

“Do you know why I agreed to be the State Preceptor in the first place? Why I chose to mentor him?” he asked, throat slightly choked with emotion.

“No, Your Highness.” 

“Lang Qianqiu… reminded me of me, ” Xie Lian said.

He was surprised to hear himself laugh dryly. He had only just realized, just this moment, his own motivations. He’d asked himself this question many times when he was in that coffin. The answer was always that he was running from his atonement and trying to save face. He was grasping at the chance to be someone prestigious again. 

But no. 

It was all about Lang Qianqiu. 

Xie Lian resumed pacing, and steeled himself for his own embarrassing admission.

“It's pathetic and selfish, but I think I wanted him to be the version of me who got everything right. Maybe I was trying too hard to make that happen but… his heart was always in the right place. I wanted him to be a merciful and compassionate leader without having to face ridicule and failure at every turn… maybe I wanted to live through him in that way.” 

Xie Lian looked down at his own hands with deep distaste. 

“I even let myself be nailed into a coffin because I needed him to heal and stay kind. His life fell apart and I was so afraid he’d become like me in the end. Full of hatred. I’ve never forgotten what it’s like to feel betrayed by the ones that were closest to me… to feel despised by people who once revered me. If Lang Qianqiu knew it was Prince An Le… killing his best friend would have changed him forever. He would have hated my people forever. But I was mysterious and distant with him from the beginning. Killing me wouldn’t be hard at all.” 

He dropped his hands and looked back over at the kneeling ghost.

“Does that make any sense?”

“...It does, your Highness,” Hua Cheng whispered. “I understand.”

He could see Hua Cheng’s hands clenching tightly at the grass. The ghost was nothing short of a trickster spirit and an excellent liar, but Xie Lian knew he was being genuine in his remorse. He’d learned how to read this ghost. Xie Lian took a couple steps closer.

“The blame for what happened to me lies only with Prince An Le, whose crime I took credit for, and he died long ago. Lang Qianqiu acted as anyone in his position would have. Can't you let go of your anger towards him?”

Hua Cheng didn’t respond at once, like he was thinking it over.

“The honest truth is… I will always hate him for what he did to you. Always,” the ghost whispered. 

He paused, and Xie Lian wondered if that was really all he had to say. If he was truly remorseless in his actions.

“But punishing him did little to quell my anger, as I found out. He was something easy to aim my fury at, but the source of it was… my failure. I failed you yet again. I was furious that I’d left you in the dark all that time. I will never let that go… but I will let Lang Qianqiu go… for you.”

Xie Lian listened, almost too exasperated for words. 

This again.

“San Lang, no one in all of heaven and earth knew I was Fang Xin. Why must you hold yourself to such an impossible standard?!” 

Hua Cheng’s face lifted from the ground once more. Though he still didn’t look up, Xie Lian could see that his expression was deeply apprehensive. 

“As I am no longer permitted to lie by omission, I must tell you that I was there in Yong’an seventy years ago, looking into the massacre. Had I been more observant, if I had focused at all on the scapegoat Fang Xin instead of just writing him off as an accomplice, I could have discovered the truth. I could have prevented what happened to you.”

Xie Lian stepped back, reeling at this new information, almost swaying on the spot. Truly, the world was such a small place. Though he could better understand the ghosts remorse, this knowledge ultimately did nothing to change his feelings about any of it.

“If’s get us nowhere, San Lang. If I had known I’d actually be trapped in the coffin, I wouldn’t have played dead. We always see things clearly after the fact.”

Xie Lian tiredly sank to his knees in the grass before the ghost, unwilling to hover above him any longer. “You don’t have to be angry at yourself over that. You can just be sad that it happened.” 

Hua Cheng peeked upwards, surprised to hear him so much closer. Their eyes met briefly for the first time. He sat up slightly, though his head remained far lower than Xie Lian’s. 

“Regardless of my actions back then, I have failed you now,” Hua Cheng said evenly. 

“Mn, maybe so, but I don’t believe there is any transgression that can’t be atoned for. If I did, I wouldn’t still be trying to make up for my own mistakes.”

“Tell me what I need to do... to earn your forgiveness," Hua Cheng asked, his voice cracking just slightly. Xie Lian finally let his expression soften.

“Let’s start with freeing Lang Qianqiu.” 

Hua Cheng kowtowed once more.

“Yes, Your Highness.” 

Xie Lian was about to reach over and pull him up when San Lang sprang up again on his own. 

“There is one other thing Your Highness should know while I’m… ridding myself of secrets.” 

“Yes?” Xie Lian asked, almost fearful.

“Prince An Le wasn’t working alone. That’s what I was investigating in Yong’an. He and the other royals were manipulated by the Night Touring Green Lantern.” 

Xie Lian blinked wildly in confusion. 

“As in... the Calamity? W-why was he involved?!”

“Well… vengeance. He was also Xianle royalty. He’s your cousin, Qi Rong.” 

Xie Lian felt the wind knocked right out of him with that statement. 

You’ve got to be kidding me. My foul-mouthed little cousin?! This is all his fault??? 

“San Lang, I think that’s enough huge revelations for today. I can’t take much more of this,” he said weakly. 

He saw an apologetic flash of a smile on the ghost, but it was so quick he might have imagined it. His eye was now plastered back on the ground. 

“My apologies. I’ll save the rest of them for another day.” 

Xie Lian huffed, and some of his old affection for the ghost came rushing back in spite of him.

So did the knowledge that, to Hua Cheng, Xie Lian was not just his God or just a friend. The knowledge that he’d secretly searched for him for centuries. The knowledge that they’d actually met at some point back when Hua Cheng was alive as well. The ghost was still a massive well of unspoken truths.

“San Lang… I don’t want you to have to tell me your every secret. You are allowed to keep things to yourself too. Just... please never do anything behind my back like that again, that’s all.”

Hua Cheng just nodded. He was still practically in a kowtow, and Xie Lian was done seeing it. He crawled the distance between them and placed his hands on his shoulders, slowly lifting him up until they were sitting evenly. The ghost allowed him this, but his eye closed instead of meeting Xie Lian’s.

“Things between us will never be the same now, will they?” Hua Cheng said softly. 

“Things will be different now, sure.”

Xie Lian leaned forward and gently pressed his forehead lightly against Hua Cheng’s. 

“I won’t lie, San Lang. I am angry, I probably will be for a while, but I don’t hate you for what you’ve done. You are probably the one person in the Three Realms I could never hate. We will never be beyond fixing.” He felt the ghost shudder, but Hua Cheng still couldn’t seem to bring himself to open his eye. 

“I don’t deserve such sentiments, Your Highness,” he whispered back.

It was odd. Hua Cheng looked unusually young to him right now. Xie Lian brought his hands up to cup the ghost’s cool face in just the way he’d so often thought about. 

Xie Lian could feel a strange sensation running up and down his arms, like static. It felt familiar.

“Even though all this has happened, San Lang is still my one and only believer, someone who has died for me twice. You are the one who saves me from myself, again and again. You pulled me out of the darkest hell and painstakingly brought me back to life. No matter what you’ve done, it doesn’t erase all of that, alright?”

Xie Lian couldn’t see, but he could feel the dampness of a tear settle into the crease where his hand met Hua Cheng’s cheek. 

Without even thinking about it, he leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to the ghost’s forehead. He held it there for a moment and the ghost slowly relaxed into his hands.

He drew back, wiping the dampness from Hua Cheng’s cheek as he did. Hua Cheng finally opened his eye, and it was shining brightly now. It was an eye full of sadness, and happiness, and guilt, and love, clear and plain as anything. 

That love had been there from the first moment their eyes met through the gauzy red curtain of the canopy bed. All that worrying. All that care. All those gentle touches and reassuring words. He knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, he was San Lang’s Beloved Special Someone. 

He needed to remember that the man was still very much on thin ice, but it was hard not to melt a little under such a gaze.

“Gege is far too merciful to this sinful ghost king,” Hua Cheng said hoarsely. 

“San Lang has probably been far too dedicated to his disgraced and fallen god,” Xie Lian replied with a sigh and a small smile. 

The ghost finally smiled back at him, and for the first time this evening, everything felt like it might be okay after all. 

He realized he was still cupping the ghost’s cheek with the other hand, and suddenly he felt sheepish. He dropped that hand and cleared his throat, eyes darting away coyly. In the moment, his impulse had felt natural, but now his heart was racing. 

He could feel that faint buzz again, but it was running the length of his body. He felt warm all over. Uncomfortable. He knew he’d felt it before, but he couldn’t pinpoint when.

“A-anyways. Lang Qianqiu’s been locked up for a pretty long time... Will you take me to him now?”

“…”

“San Lang?” He glanced back. He’d never seen such an expression on the ghost's face before. 

Pure, naked fear. 

“Uh… Your Highness, there’s actually one last huge revelation for today.”

Chapter Text

Feng Xin bit his tongue as he stormed his way up the grand avenue of Heaven. 

Lord Wind Master was following behind, still going on and on about some of the horrific options at the food stalls in Ghost City, but Feng Xin wasn’t listening. Mu Qing had already escaped and split off to report to Jun Wu. Feng Xin had other things on his mind right now, however, and couldn’t care less about General Tai Hua. If the man was still alive after all this time, he would probably stay that way.

No, Feng Xin had a bigger mystery to solve.

What ignored prayers?

If His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince of Xianle had prayed to him, those prayers should have reached him. A former god’s prayers had to hold greater importance than either his most devout or richest followers. Offering or not, he should have heard them. 

Either way, how could His Highness literally have nothing to offer up? Not even a stale bun? A borrowed stick of incense? Why would he have bothered praying if he couldn’t even do that much? He used to be a god! He should know better than to even try!

Suddenly Feng Xin whirled on the Wind Master who was going on and on about fried human eyeballs on a stick.

“Do you know what happens to prayers if someone fails to make an offering?” 

The Wind Master, now thankfully back in his male form, paused mid sentence, gaping back in return.

“Oh… well, those prayers probably wouldn’t be forwarded to you. Prayers like that aren’t usually asking for direct intervention. Just like… asking for inner strength or luck or whatever. It would be a waste of time to hear all of them.”

“Ok, if they aren’t forwarded, where do they go instead?” he asked curtly.

“I mean, you’d probably have to ask Ling Wen. Sorting prayers is a big part of her job, isn’t it?”

“Right.”

Feng Xin veered off course from his own palace and headed in the direction of Ling Wen’s, leaving the confused Wind Master in his dust.

He made his way up the main hall of Ling Wen’s palace, barely dodging the exhausted-looking officials scurrying by at breakneck speed. He glanced up at the mountain of scrolls constantly deposited here in large piles and did not envy the civil gods one bit. There at the front desk sat Ling Wen, in all her sleep-deprived and nearly all-knowing glory. She was in the middle of simultaneously signing and stamping a truly impressive stack of papers.

“Can I help you, General?” she said flatly, without even looking up.

“I want to search through prayers from followers who had nothing to offer up,” he stated. Ling Wen’s eyebrows rose and she actually glanced up at him curiously for a half-second before going back to stamping.

“Down below is the prayer scroll archive. We only hold onto prayer scrolls dated over the last century. After one hundred years the scrolls are burned. You should have your own shelf. Feel free to peruse, but don’t poke around anyone else’s prayers. I’ll know.”

“Understood. Is there any way to tell the normal prayers from the prayers without offerings?”

Ling Wen tapped her pen a few times, as if offended he would even humor such prayers.

“They are organized by level of importance by their scroll-cases. Prayers rudely made without any tribute don’t get a scroll case.”

Feng Xin gave her a short bow, and headed in the direction of the stairs.

As he descended, the heavenly golden light faded into a dark gloom and he was greeted by a veritable labyrinth of aisles expanding in all directions. The grand heavenly archive. It was still lit by high-hanging lanterns every few feet, but they cast the place in a cool hue that was quite different from what he was used to. They obviously weren’t lit by flames, which made sense around all this paper. It was noticeably chilly down here.

As he made his way through, Feng Xin occasionally bumped shoulders with some scholar racing by with a bundle of cases, either to shelve or burn.

Feng Xin spent about a good half hour hunting down his own personal prayer archive. It seemed no one had the time to pause and give him directions. His shelf was impressively long, and he couldn’t help but feel a dash of pride as he beheld just how many prayers he’d collected over the past century. He’d answered a fair amount of them too. Now… out of these thousands upon thousands… How the hell was he supposed to find Xie Lian’s?

 He had thought that the un-cased scrolls would be few in number, but unfortunately, it was just the opposite. They were the majority. Whenever he placed a finger on the scroll, he’d hear a voice spring into his mind—the prayer as uttered by the devotee. As such, he didn’t have to open one to know if it belonged to Xie Lian. As he began tapping them, they said things like “Forgive me, Nan Yang, I think I’m about to cheat on my husband,” or “Nan Yang protect me, just let me survive this battle.”

The Wind Master was right—most of these prayers really were meaningless. Things people uttered in the moment, usually before making a questionable decision. He had no choice but to tap all that were uncased, making his way down from the most recent to the oldest. Occasionally he would open one up and check the date, just to see how far back in time he’d reached. He was meticulous, but driven, missing not a single scroll, moving through them quickly. He knew he’d recognize His Highness’s voice right away.

Sifting through all the garbage was frustrating and time consuming, but this was something he had to know. Seeing His Highness in the flesh again had been so unexpected and shattering. It brought back many feelings he’d buried centuries ago.

He couldn’t get the picture of him out of his mind now. He hadn’t looked strong enough to even hold a sword. Even his fingers looked thin, like he’d just been completely sucked dry by something. Though His Highness had been in relatively good spirits for most of the conversation, there was a look in his eye that Feng Xin didn’t miss. It was a look that had been in his eye once a long time ago, a look Feng Xin didn't think about until way after the fact. After it was too late. His eyes looked haunted. 

Feng Xin knew all His Highness pleasantries were fake. He wasn't at all happy to see them. And the way he’d said those last few words? The barely suppressed vitriol? That frigid smile was unrecognizable. He was glad Xie Lian couldn’t tell who he was. Well… he was pretty sure he couldn’t tell.

It made Feng Xin sick to his stomach. He’d missed something very important. He was sure of it.

Just then, a voice popped into his head, almost making him lose track of where he was on the shelf. 

“We have a new situation to deal with.” It was Mu Qing.

Whatever it was, it could wait. He did not care about whatever it might be. Nothing short of a direct order from Jun Wu was going to pull him from this archive.

“Not now.” He shot back, and closed his communication array. 

He had no idea how much time passed as he made his way down the shelf, but he knew it had been at least a couple hours. He was beginning to think he must have gone too far and missed it. He was halfway down his shelf—surely the prayers weren’t from fifty years ago?! Whatever His Highness had gone through, this difficult time he spoke of, it had to have been recent. He felt sure he hadn’t missed any though. This didn’t make any sense.

Then, just as he was about to restart from the beginning, he heard it.

He almost went past it. He almost didn’t recognize it. It was so weak. Barely a whisper. It was gritty, as if coming from someone severely ill or who hadn’t spoken for a long time.

“Feng Xin… It’s been awhile since I last tried… It's hard to stay awake now… I just want you to know, while I can still mostly remember how to talk, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I… I couldn't be the person you thought I was. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I guess that’s all. I’m really so sorry. You don’t owe me anything. I'm not entitled to your help. You never owed me anything.”

Feng Xin stood shock-still for a long moment, feeling like he’d just been petrified by a spell. He pulled the scroll with trembling fingers and opened it, reading and rereading the prayer over and over again. It was dated to 49 years prior. Why was this from so long ago? Did this really have anything to do with the troubled Xie Lian he’d just met? Was this something different he’d gone through in the past? He shoved the scroll back, and then continued scouring the shelf. This seemed like the last prayer he’d made so he didn’t think he’d missed anything after all.

Tap. Tap. Tap. His finger’s moved along the thousands of dusty, bent, uncased scrolls stacked on each shelf. He only listened to a word or two before moving on.

Then, again, that voice, just as weak. This time it sounded odd.

“Feng… Feng... Feng Xin. I don’t know why, even now… after all these years… I think it's been years… sometimes I think I’ve gone mad… probably a few times I’ve… What was I saying? I don’t remember what I was… I don’t know. I just wish… I wish we’d…”

It just trailed off and ended. He tapped it again and listened, trying to understand anything. What was going on with him?! Why did he sound like that? Was he drunk?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He checked a scroll— 53 years prior.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He finally hit another one and his heart jumped.

“Feng Xin? Feng Xin listen… I’m scared. I’m really scared this is all I’m ever going to see or feel again. I’m so scared this is really it. This is it forever and I’ll never die. I know you can’t hear me. I have to believe that. I have to believe you wouldn’t have left me to this. I hope you can’t hear me. If you can… if you and the others ignored me on purpose… I’ll never forgive any of you. I’ll never forgive you. I’ll…”

He heard Xie Lian begin to sob in earnest as the scroll cut him off. Feng Xin could feel his knees go weak. He wanted to throw up. Oh god. What had he been left to? His heart raced and he broke into a sweat as he tapped on more scrolls, desperately searching for the next prayer.

Tap.Tap.Tap.

56 years prior.

Tap.Tap.Tap.

“Do you know what I miss most, Feng Xin? I really just miss the sun. I really miss being warm. Warm and dry. I wish I’d been buried in the desert instead...”

Realization hit stronger than any physical blow he’d ever endured in his six hundred years, and Feng Xin was actually staggered, grabbing onto the shelf for support.

His Immortal Highness, Xie Lian, had been buried alive. That's why he couldn’t make an offering. Feng Xin had been his only hope and he hadn’t heard him cry out for help.

Feng Xin bit his fist so he didn’t scream out in fury and despair, trying his best to remain calm while scholars continued to rush around him. They were completely unaware that this martial god was about to lose his fucking mind. He was about to start wrecking shelves and breaking lights. His Highness was still skinny and pale. That means… didn’t that mean he’d only recently been saved?! Did that mean he remained buried alive like that for over fifty years?! Feng Xin felt everything go numb and the world tilted under his feet as the enormity of this revelation sunk in. He could taste blood.

Why ? Why had no one here brought him these prayers!? These were important! These were not random bullshit! These were the anguished pleas of a god! The best friend he'd ever had! Feng Xin knew he had to keep looking. He had to keep reading them till he reached the first one. He may be too late, but he wouldn’t ignore any of them. Once he’d mastered his own violent urges to unleash hell on this archive, he stood up straight and steadied his breathing.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He came across several that were almost unintelligible. Moments of madness, like he’d gone through a period of years where he didn’t even know he was praying. It was like was talking to Feng Xin in his sleep. That or he thought he was back in Xianle and they were still friends. And then—

“I prayed to Mu Qing, Feng Xin. I prayed to him. If he answers my prayer of all people… I’m not sure I’ll ever speak to either you or Jun Wu again.”

Obviously he didn't. Feng Xin was momentarily overcome by the desire to find Mu Qing’s shelf. Not now. Maybe later, Ling Wen be damned. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Feng Xin… I know I’ve asked so many times now but I have no one else… If I stop praying that means… that means I have to give up. But I can’t do this anymore, Feng Xin. Why can’t I just die ? Why did Jun Wu do this to me?! Why do I have to keep living through this?! I SHOULD ALREADY BE DEAD DEAD DEAD. Just send someone to CUT OFF MY HEAD so I don’t have to THINK ANYMORE!”

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap. Feng Xin's hand was trembling badly now.

“Feng Xin… Feng Xin…I’m… oh what’s the point.”

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.

“Feng Xin… Nan Yang… o-or is it Ju Yang? I don’t remember. You know, I... I can’t see anything in here, it's too dark… but all I feel are bones. I think maybe that’s all I am now. Can a skeleton really still think? I don’t think I want to survive this, Feng Xin. I think… it would be easier to die… I wish someone would come finish me off.”

Feng Xin had to stop. He had to stop. He couldn’t listen to this anymore. It wouldn't be so bad if he didn’t have to hear his voice. So broken and so small. That voice that had once belonged to the most important person in his whole world. The person he respected most. 

At this point, Feng Xin had tears threatening to fall. He had to keep rubbing at his eyes, hoping like hell no one around would notice his uneven breaths. Feng Xin couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever cried. Probably the day he left His Highness. Only Xie Lian could make him suffer like this. He was the only one who'd ever mattered that much.

He was already to the scrolls written 58 years prior. He was coming up on a full decade of Xie Lian praying and begging and sobbing for his help. This was ages ago. He’d already missed everything. His opportunity to help. The chance to reforge their friendship, even, by doing so. He had looked for Xie Lian, off and on, but Xie Lian had been determined to stay hidden, even from the Divine Emperor. 

He couldn’t help but selfishly lament that someone else had been the one to save him. That fucking ghost king of all people! But it had taken so long… If Feng Xin had just heard these prayers way back then, so much pain could have been avoided. Feng Xin couldn’t listen to all of his prayers after all. He wasn’t strong enough. He couldn't bear to know how far back they actually went. What if it was over a century and he just ran out of shelf...

He understood Xie Lian’s bitterness now, but how was he even supposed to know if no one sent him the prayers! It wasn’t fucking fair! What kind of bullshit system was this?! Feng Xin shoved the most recent scroll back into the shelf and began walking away. All he could do is try and keep this from happening again. If the system was broken, he'd find a way to fix it.

He only made it about halfway down the aisle before hesitating. He could feel shame creeping up on him. Why?

Was there really anything else to glean from Xie Lian’s 60 year-old prayers? There was no point in continuing to torture himself over circumstances beyond his control. He’d figured out what he needed to know. And yet… 

I’m still ignoring him. 

If he chickened out now, wasn’t he just a huge, despicable coward? He was running away because he was scared to know how long he'd been letting His Highness down. 

Though his heart felt like lead, he knew he had to hear them all. He had to bear witness to his friend’s suffering. Someone had to. He’d had to go through all that alone, and so much more. He should be heard. 

Feng Xin slowly returned to his place and took a deep breath.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Nan Yang…? Anyone? Do I really deserve this?!”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"FENG XIN, PLEASE! WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO?! JUST TELL ME! Please just tell me and I"ll do it... just.. just help me... someone please help me."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Feng Xin… do you really hate me that much?  I knew we left off in a bad place but I never thought... I thought you'd...”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“I don't get it, Feng Xin. Is it really just all about the offerings? That's all that matters? Why do the gods even exist? I didn't think you'd really care if there wasn't an offering.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Feng Xin... I guess you can't hear me after all... Did you know… he nailed me in here. He didn’t have to. He thought I was dead. Why did he have to nail me in too?  I don’t know why I can’t pull it out. It must have a spell. Maybe he actually knew I was immortal somehow… maybe… this is what he wanted. I guess I should be thankful that at least the blood has a way out of here...”

It just got worse and worse. Everything he learned just made it worse and worse. Who had done this to him? Who even could ? How and why did he end up buried alive in the first place? There was some part of Feng Xin now that really wanted to return to the gambler's den. He wanted to grab Xie Lian by those boney shoulders and demand to know the name of the person who subjected him to such a torment. Then again, if they were mortal, chances were good they had already passed. What a shame.

Feng Xin rubbed at his face. There were just so many of these. Each and every one of them was uniquely heartbreaking. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Feng Xin… Feng Xin, I’m sorry,  I’ll never ask for anything else, I promise! Just for old times sake! If there’s still any part of you that cares about me at all… just let me know you can hear me!”

I couldn’t. I’m sorry.

“Feng Xin… I still haven’t heard from you… please just send me a dream. I… I played dead and got myself trapped in a coffin, and I can’t get out of here on my own… I’ve been here… awhile... already. I don't know how many years. I don’t know where I am… close to the Yong’an capital. The casket is black marble… You.. You really can't imagine what this is like. Please, Feng Xin. Please at least answer me!”

I couldn’t. I’m sorry.

“Feng Xin? Can you hear me? Or, no, General Nan Yang? I… I wouldn’t call upon you unless I had no other choice but… I need you. I need someone’s help… if you could just… send me some help. ”

I couldn’t. I’m sorry.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

But that was it. That’s all there was. The last, or rather the first prayer had been sixty one years ago. Xie Lian had prayed to him for twelve years. Who knew how many years passed before he finally gave in and asked for help.

Feng Xin slumped against the shelf and came to sit on the floor, looking rather unprofessional to the scholars who pointedly ignored him, stepping over his legs making disgruntled noises. He didn’t give a shit what they thought of him. Right now, he didn’t care about anything at all. The worst part was that there was nothing he could have done. No one told him.

How could this have slipped the notice of Jun Wu?!

Feng Xin knew, logically, it wasn’t his fault, so why did he feel so guilty? Guilty and so unbelievably furious. No one should suffer something like that, least of all him. Feng Xin still had the last scroll in his hand from when he’d checked the date. He made a dull realization that the wet stains at the bottom were from him. He hadn't even noticed.

I am sorry, Your Highness.

He had no idea how long he sat there processing all he had just learned, but he was torn from his thoughts by an outside force.

“What in the ever-loving fuck are you doing down here?” said a caustic voice above him.

Feng Xin immediately shifted from despondency to anger as he recognized that tone. Mu Qing. He didn’t look up, hyper-aware of the state he must look to be in.

He hastily rolled the scroll back up and made a move to stand.

“What’s that?” Mu Qing asked, gesturing at the scroll.

“A chef’s secret recipe, what the fuck do you think it is?” he spat, as he finally turned to face his fellow martial god.

He saw Mu Qing jerk back slightly, a deeply uncomfortable look passing his face, like a grimace. He hoped to high heavens that his eyes weren’t puffy. Either way, tragically, Mu Qing could read him easily most of the time.

“Whose prayer then?” Mu Qing asked, a little apprehensively.

“None of your business.” Feng Xin growled. “I’ll go report to Jun Wu. That’s why you’re here, right?”

He shoved the scroll back onto his shelf. As quick as lightning, Mu Qing’s hand darted out to touch it.

“D - DON’T –” Feng Xin shouted, seizing his wrist, but it was too late. He’d made contact with it. He saw Mu Qing’s eyes grow wide and then he let go of the scroll as if it burned him, jerking his wrist from Feng Xin’s grasp as well.

“So he prayed to you?” 

“As I said, it’s none of your business.” Feng Xin said furiously.

He had no time for this nosy meddlesome piece of shit. Mu Qing’s eyes squinted at him and Feng Xin could see the gears turning. No doubt plotting something. Some snarky line to bring up in the public communication array, probably.

“This is about how he looked today isn’t it? Why he looked half-dead.” Mu Qing said, clicking his tongue.

Something about his smarmy tone just lit Feng Xin's hair on fire. He was already at his limit. This put him over the edge.

“It’s not like you give a shit. You just want to fuck with me.” Feng Xin said, giving him a harsh shove. Mu Qing was startled by the sudden attack stumbled back a few steps. He scowled.

“Don’t tell me what I’m supposed to care about.” Mu Qing shoved him back equally hard. “You know what happened to him, so tell me.”

“Why? You wanna go back there and laugh at him? Laugh at him because he prayed to us for help?” Feng Xin spat.

Mu Qing froze, and Feng Xin saw a brief flash of fear in his eyes.

“Us?”

“Yeah, us. And Jun Wu. He was that desperate, and none of us heard any of his prayers because he was trapped. He couldn’t go to a temple. He was starving to death but he couldn’t die!”

Feng Xin kicked hard at his shelf, and it wobbled dangerously, several cases threatening to fall.

“HEY, WATCH IT!” shouted a scholar on the other side.

“FUCK YOU! ” he countered. He vaguely heard them grumble something about martial gods.

Oh I’ll watch it. I’ll watch this whole useless archive burn to the fucking ground!

“But… he was a god… banished or not, his prayers still should have reached us…” Mu Qing said with a confused frown, distracting Feng Xin from leaping over the shelf and throttling that guy.

“I know. I’m about to give Ling Wen a piece of my mind.” Feng Xin growled as he pushed past his rival. 

He felt an iron grip on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“For how long?”

“He prayed to you too, why don’t you go find out?”

Mu Qing’s grip tightened painfully, close to cracking his collar bone. He winced.

“How… long.” Mu Qing said through gritted teeth. 

Feng Xin paused, really not wanting to have to say it. Not out loud.

“The prayers lasted for 12 years…”

He felt Mu Qing flinch, and then his grip relaxed slightly.

“But they’re from 50 to 60 years ago. I don’t know when he was buried alive… but I think it’s clear he was pretty recently unearthed.”

He heard a slight inhale, and Mu Qing’s hand slipped from his shoulder. He knew realizations were hitting him properly now.

Feng Xin wouldn’t look back at him. He didn’t even really know what he would expect to see there. Would it be sorrow? Guilt? Complete apathy? Sadistic joy? In case it was the latter, he didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to hate him more than he already did. He really didn’t care what Mu Qing thought or felt anyhow. 

He wasn’t sure what else to say, so he opted for nothing and finally began to walk away, unimpeded.

“How could we have known?” he heard Mu Qing say in a low voice. Feng Xin paused briefly.

“We couldn’t.”  

But I’m going to do something about that.

As Feng Xin reached the end of his aisle and turned, he glanced back at Mu Qing. He was standing in front of Feng Xin’s prayers, staring at them with the same fierce expression he wore before attacking an enemy. Those were his private prayers, and he knew he should stop the asshole from snooping through them, but fuck it.

Let him hear.

Feng Xin stormed in the direction of the stairs. This time, the civil officials darted out of his way.

Chapter Text

“You did what!? ” Xie Lian was standing in the middle of their bedroom, face pale with shock.

They had moved back into the manor before continuing their conversation, in case any of those Heavenly Officials were still lurking around somehow. Also because his God’s robes were getting grass stains, but Hua Cheng didn’t bring that up. The ghost was leaning against the dresser, arms crossed somewhat defensively. His Highness had sat down to rest on the bed until he dropped this bomb.

“I nailed him in,” Hua Cheng repeated, rubbing at the back of his neck now, eyes averted. “Just as he did to you.”

It was only fair…

“With a stake.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“A-and what kept him from ripping it out and breaking out of the coffin? He’s still a martial god,” His Highness asked, clearly horrified but also perplexed.

“I fashioned the stake to suppress his spiritual energy. Like a shackle,” he admitted. 

His God just stared at him. Telling the truth was awful, but it was easier than thinking up more lies. His God whispered something to himself and cursed.

“Your Highness?”

“The wood shavings.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” 

His God sank back down on the bed, cradling his head in his hands for a moment. He then ran his hands up and down his arms like he was cold, even though it was a sweltering summer night. Hua Cheng wasn’t exactly sure what to say. He wasn’t sure how much worse this had just made things. Probably a lot worse. He was waiting with bated breath for his God to throw his hands up and say, “That's it. We’re done!”

“How am I supposed to fix that, ” His Highness groaned. He let himself fall back onto the bed, covering his eyes with a forearm. “I thought he was just sitting in a jail cell somewhere.”

“Your Highness has nothing to fix. Your terrible believer nailed Lang Qianqiu into the coffin. His fury will be directed towards me.” 

His Highness looked sharply over at him, irritated. He wilted under that glare, like a scolded mutt.

“I don’t want an army from heaven on your doorstep either. We need to stop this cycle of revenge, not just start a new one. He’s… he’s not just going to let bygones be bygones after something like this.” 

“I could compensate him with merits,” Hua Cheng offered, walking over to the chair he once practically lived in. He flopped down and crossed his legs. The one leg bounced nervously. He had crossed his arms again but his nails were currently digging into his skin.

“I don’t think he would care about merits.”  

His God chewed on his lip, deep in thought. He was looking up at the butterflies, a permanent fixture of the bed at this point. 

“I told him who you were,” Hua Cheng said quietly, “and I told him you didn’t kill his family.”

“Do you really think he’d believe the words of the ghost who buried him alive for five months?”

“I mean, we are letting him out. That should be a sign of good faith.” 

There was a long pause as His Highness contemplated how he wanted to approach this.

“I’m afraid, San Lang,” His Highness said, almost too quiet for him to hear. Hua Cheng leaned forward and rested his cheek in his hand.

“Afraid of what, gege?”

“Facing him.” His God’s eyes looked very far away. “I’ll have to tell him what really happened. That his best friend betrayed him. Probably hated him from the start.” Hua Cheng wanted to reach over and take his hand like he normally would, but he didn’t feel he had any right to it. He would want no comfort from the likes of him.

Hua Cheng had caused this problem, after all. He was the cause of this anguish. He thought he had known regret; well, that was nothing to what he felt in this moment. Even though his God seemed to be willing to eventually forgive him, he knew he was still very much in trouble— especially now. That little forehead kiss had come before his God knew exactly what Hua Cheng had done to his old pupil.

“Don’t be scared, gege. If he’s half the man you seem to think he is, I’m sure he will understand why you did what you did.”

“I don’t think he will forgive me for killing his father.”

“Maybe he won’t, but a person can move on without necessarily forgiving someone.”

It was what Hua Cheng was going to have to do, after all. While it was true that Hua Cheng’s ire should be with Prince An Le and Qi Rong, it was still Lang Qianqiu who had buried his God alive. Hua Cheng would let it go, but he wasn’t going to forgive him for doing that. Not ever. Not anymore than he would forgive himself. 

His God rubbed at his arms again, looking exceedingly nervous. Hua Cheng couldn’t see his face well from this angle, but he could see it looking straight down from a butterfly. All the eyeliner had long been washed away. Right now, his eyes were sharp. Hua Cheng could see him planning, calculating. He noted the deep furrow of worry between his brows. 

“He’s not going to forgive you either, San Lang.” 

As if I’d want his forgiveness. 

Hua Cheng chuckled darkly as he thought of that helpless boy trying to challenge him.

“He’s a man who understands the need for retribution. Maybe he will see my point of view. If not, he can declare war. I’m more than happy to finish the fight we started last time.” 

His God groaned again.

“San Lang…”

“I’ll do what I can to avoid that outcome, of course.” 

“Alright. Let’s just get this over with,” His Highness grumbled. “I can’t stand the thought of him in there while I’m laying around.”

Hua Cheng stood up at once. He hesitated before awkwardly offering His Highness a hand. His Highness glanced at it, blinked, and made eye contact, his expression surprisingly hard to read. Hua Cheng held his breath. 

“San Lang is lucky he is handsome,” his God muttered before taking it. Hua Cheng, on the other hand, was completely taken aback by this offhand comment. He only barely remembered to pull him up.

“Your Highness?” he said in a voice a few octaves too high.

“Where did we put my silver mask?”

It took Hua Cheng a second to realize what he was referring to.

“I-I’ll get it for you,” Hua Cheng said, still a bit dazed.

Hua Cheng walked over to his dresser and fished it out of one of the top drawers. It was just as heavy as he remembered. He wondered what on earth it was made of. He had kind of forgotten about it. He handed it to His Highness, who looked at it somewhat sadly. 

“San Lang?” 

Hua Cheng tilted his head at him. 

“When I explain things, please don’t bring up Qi Rong.” 

Hua Cheng raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t think he deserves to know the truth?”

“It's not about that. The real culprit should just be Prince An Le. That’s going to be hard enough.”

“You don’t think having a new target, the actual culprit, would be healing in its own way?” Hua Cheng asked delicately.

“I just…” Xie Lian rubbed at his forehead, clearly torn on the decision. “I just want this situation to be over. Let’s just bury it all today and move forward. I don’t want him to just start a new crusade all these years later.”

“The Green Ghost should be punished, Your Highness.” 

“Then I’ll be the one to do it,” Xie Lian said darkly. “Clearly I didn’t finish the whole job back then.”

“Fair enough,” Hua Cheng said, though he didn’t agree at all with this decision. He wasn’t about to argue with him about it. He’d rather point Lang Qianqiu towards Qi Rong and away from His Highness.

His God laughed suddenly. Hua Cheng was caught off guard by how sardonic it sounded.

“What's the harm in a white lie, anyhow? Just a little lie of omission. What could possibly go wrong?” His God smacked himself lightly on the forehead, “You’re rubbing off on me.”

“Hopefully not too much,” Hua Cheng said with a placating smile. 

His God ran his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated. He’d been doing that almost as often as he sighed and groaned and rubbed his forehead. He was really bent out of shape. Hua Cheng was tempted to ask him if he wanted his hair pulled back up into a bun before they left. Before he could ask, his God was already doing it himself, using a long white ribbon Hua Cheng had once bought him in the markets. 

Hua Cheng was going to miss doing his hair for him all the time.

His God turned away from the mirror then, seemingly satisfied with his appearance.

“Ready to go then?” Hua Cheng asked. 

His God paused, looking around the bedroom, somewhat uneasy all of a sudden. 

“I guess… I just have a weird feeling.”

“Well, it's not going to be an easy conversation.”

“No, I feel like… something is going to happen.” 

Hua Cheng bumped his shoulder lightly with his own.

“Whatever happens, we’ll handle it. You know I won’t let him harm you. He will probably be too weak anyhow.”

“It’s not that. This just feels like… a calm before the storm. Like, after we leave this room, there’s no turning back.”

“You mean, like, what? Backlash from Heaven?”

“I don’t know,” Xie Lian murmured as he reached up and positioned the mask on his face.

His Highness’s eyes observed him through the silver mask, but they were much harder to read than before.

“Whatever happens, don’t untie the red string. Okay?” his God said.

“Of course not. Oh, but gege, I did come up with something a bit better than the red string. If you’re worried about getting separated for some reason.” 

Hua Cheng dug into his robes and pulled out a second pair of dice. He lifted His Highness’s hand and gently placed them in it before curling his fingers back over them.

“No matter where you are, if you roll these dice, I will appear.” 

His God’s eyes widened. 

“When did you come up with this?”

“Right after we talked about how we would stay in contact. I was going to wait… for the first time we ever said goodbye.” 

His Highness looked at the dice in amazement. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips as he safely tucked them away. Suddenly, his body language looked rather shy. His hand went up to his chest and clutched at his robes there.

“What about your ring? I don’t know when we are going to part ways, but I’m sure you’d like it back before then?” His Highness’s tone was conversational, but he could still hear a waver in it.

“I’d rather it stay safely in your hands,” he replied softly.

Xie Lian then turned to face him properly, those eyes shining like pools of liquid gold within the silver wells of the mask.

“Then I promise to protect it with my life. Thankfully, I can’t die,” he said, and those eyes squinted in amusement. Hua Cheng felt a little pang in his heart, not at all amused.

“Your Highness, if you were to die, that ring would no longer have a reason to exist anyway.” 

He hadn’t meant to reply so seriously, so dramatically, but it was the truth.

His Highness stared at him for a long time without saying anything, to the point Hua Cheng was becoming unnerved. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling. The mask hid all of it. Finally, His Highness broke his silence as he stepped closer.

“You stayed for me, didn’t you? Even though I urged you to move on, you stayed to protect me.” 

It took Hua Cheng a moment to realize what he was talking about, and then his blood ran cold. 

He was talking about when His Highness had freed him from that lantern, back when he was a little ghost fire. His own words echoed in his ears. Curse his good memory.

‘I have a beloved who is still in this world’

Oh.

Oh No.

He knows. My God, he Knows.

He knows. He knows. HE KNOWS. 

Hua Cheng’s mind immediately began to spiral into outright panic. His Highness had put two and two together. He knew the full nature of his blasphemous feelings. Hua Cheng was paralyzed, terror ripping through him. 

“Yes. I did,” he said shortly, outwardly betraying nothing of the fact that he was about to shatter right in front of him.

What else was there to say? He wasn’t permitted to lie.

His God smiled then, but Hua Cheng did not relax one bit. He’d been waiting for an axe to fall for hours, but right now he could actually see its slow descent upon him. He wished his God would be truly merciful and just crush his ashes here and now.

“I thought so. Maybe it’s selfish… but I’m glad.” 

“Y-you’re glad?” he sputtered in disbelief. 

His Highness let out an amused laugh and reached over to take his hand. He had a dangerously gentle smile on his face, and there was even a slight flush to his cheeks. Hua Cheng’s vision actually went white for a moment, and he wondered if a ghost could actually pass out. What was happening?! Where was all that anger from earlier!?

"I'm glad,” he said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Your Highness… do you…?”

Do you understand? Why aren’t you horrified? Have you misunderstood something?

“Why are you telling me this right now? ” Hua Cheng asked instead. 

His Highness was really acting too much like this was goodbye. He felt a growing suspicion that his Highness knew something he didn’t and he wasn’t sharing. He was acting like they were heading into a trap or a fight. That, or he was planning something himself. It felt like he was planning to leave after this. He probably was.

His Highness scratched at his cheek, a bit awkwardly, in that charming way he always did. The way that made Hua Cheng’s dead heart remember what it was like to live. 

“Ah, I guess I just wanted to know for sure before we left. But you’re right. Let's talk about it after we deal with Lang Qianqiu.”

Hua Cheng wasn’t relieved by his words, but he was anxious to get this over with so they could continue this conversation. Until he fully understood what His Highness meant, he was not going to be able to relax. He closed his hand around Highness’s finally and nodded. 

“Let’s go then.”

He pulled his dice from a hidden pocket and threw them into the air. Though a part of him expected to roll a two, thankfully a pair of sixes still landed in his hand. His luck hadn’t run out just yet.

The world around them spun briefly, and the red bedroom vanished from view. It was replaced by cool air and pitch darkness. It was the first time Xie Lian had been in such darkness since the coffin, and he found himself instantly fighting a deep fear within him. Hua Cheng must have felt his grip tighten sharply.

“It’s alright, gege, I’ll light it up,” Hua Cheng reassured him.

There was a flash, and suddenly a few of those silver butterflies were floating above, bathing this small chamber in soft white light. Xie Lian felt the grip of intense panic loosen.

It was like a stone cave, but there appeared to be no exit tunnel. Just a few cracks and crevices they’d never be able to squeeze through. This place must have been discovered via butterfly.  At the center of it was an imposing black marble casket. 

Xie Lian forced himself to take a breath. Lang Qianqiu was in there. He could smell the blood and it abruptly transported him back there. That horrifying, familiar stench. He wanted to hurl. He shivered, but not from the cold. 

Was this how it had been when Hua Cheng came to collect him from the coffin? 

He must have swayed a bit, because now Hua Cheng had his other hand on his shoulder to steady him, giving him a worried look.

“Gege… maybe it would be better if you—”

“I’m fine. Just go open it.” 

Hua Cheng gave him a long look before gently letting go and heading over to the coffin. In one swift movement, he had kicked the heavy lid off. He peered down into it, and Xie Lian didn’t miss the smug look that passed his face.

“Last time I was here, I told you I don’t forgive. Thankfully for you, His Highness does.” 

He reached in and pulled Lang Qianqiu up by the front of his robes, dropping him unceremoniously on the ground, just outside the coffin. He landed with a profound thump, and there was a little cloud of dust.

Not off to a great start.

“San Lang, honestly,” he reprimanded as he stepped closer and took in the sight of the man who had once been like a son to him. 

A son he’d kept at arm's length, but someone he helped raise, nevertheless.

He hardly looked like he’d aged, though his facial features were a bit stronger now. Xie Lian would guess he was no older than about 20. He must have ascended very young, just like Xie Lian did. 

He'd been lying in a thick pool of blood, much like Xie Lian, but his clothes were also all torn up. Xie Lian could see a large scar on the right side of his face from his jawline nearly to his eye that was smeared with old dry blood. 

Oh, he won’t be forgiving Hua Cheng for that one.

He wasn’t ‘seventy years in a coffin’ bad, but he was certainly not in good shape. Though not quite skeletal, he was exceedingly skinny—enough so that one would not think him a martial god, at least. All his armor hung loosely from him. Even in this low light Xie Lian could see he was sickly pale, and the front of his robes were thoroughly drenched in blood. The stake remained embedded in his heart and it had the faintest white glow coming from somewhere at its center. 

Lang Qianqiu’s eyes looked wildly between the two of them, but he said nothing. He didn’t move an inch, though it was clear he was frightened.

“Oh, I should mention. I also put a petrification spell on the stake,” Hua Cheng said, almost lazily. 

Though the ghost had acted quite guilt-ridden back at the manor, now that he was in the presence of Lang Qianqiu, it was clear he still harbored feelings of deep contempt and hatred for him. It probably couldn’t be helped. 

Xie Lian managed to pull the man up until he was leaning against the coffin and kneeled down in front of him. Those ferocious eyes were now locked on him. He stared back evenly, noting his sunken cheeks and chapped lips.

“I’m going to pull the stake out, but not until after I’ve said my piece,” Xie Lian told him quietly. The boy was breathing harshly, and he could see tears already beginning to well in the corners of his eyes. 

Ah, he hasn’t changed so much. 

“First, I suppose I have to apologize for what Hua Cheng has done to you. He is… protective of those he cares about.”

 He gently lifted the god’s damp bangs away from his left eye so he could look at him properly. 

He heard Hua Cheng walk off to the side, giving them a little bit of privacy. Xie Lian was relieved. 

“I want to tell you the truth of what happened. Then I’ll let you go, and what happens next is up to you.” 

Despite the petrification, the boy managed to squint his eyes suspiciously.

“You see… back then… I lied about some things to spare your feelings. I didn’t massacre your family. I let you believe I did, but the blame lies with several members of Xianle royalty, the leader of which was Prince An Le. You can still choose not to believe me if you wish. I understand why you wouldn’t want to.” 

The boy’s eyes widened at first, and then that fury returned. Xie Lian could already tell he wasn’t ready to believe this. He looked horrified that Xie Lian would even suggest it. Lang Qianqiu was straining with all his might against the spell. He wanted to speak, but Xie Lian wasn’t going to let him just yet.

“I didn’t know anything about their plans, but I did get a bad feeling that night. By the time I caught on to what was happening, I was too late. When I arrived at the banquet, I found all but your father already dead. I ran in to help your father, but then he said something that… forced my hand.” 

Xie Lian kept his voice as cool and level as he was able. Factual. No nonsense. It was the voice he had always used on his pupil. A voice he hoped this man could still find a way to trust in.

“He told me it was all the fault of the Xianle people. That he would make them all pay.”

 Lang Qianqiu stilled at his words, though his breathing was still uneven.

“Hua Cheng told you who I am, right?” he asked. 

The boy couldn't really move, but he did manage to blink an affirmation at him. Xie Lian finally reached up and pulled the silver mask off, showing his full face to Lang Qianqiu for the first time. 

“Then you know I am the prince who is famously known for failing to protect his people. I couldn’t allow your father to finish off those of them who were left. I liked your father, Lang Qianqiu. I respected him because he treated my people fairly. I would never have killed him out of revenge. I killed him to protect my own. I’m sorry.” 

He paused to let all that sink in, sitting back on his heels.

“You should also know that it was not an illness. It was I who killed Prince An Le. I don’t know if that makes up for anything, but the man did pay for what he did.”

He could tell by the harsh expression on the prince’s face that it probably didn’t make up for a thing. It might have just made it all worse, even. Ah well. He had tried.

“It’s alright if you still hate me. The path of forgiveness isn’t easy and it’s not for everyone. You should know, though, that I literally can’t die,” he said, pointing up to the shackle on his neck. “So you are going to have to find a way to live with this. You can also try to take on Hua Cheng if you wish, but you should know, he’s already defeated thirty-three gods before you.”

He saw the god’s eyes flicker briefly and fearfully in Hua Cheng’s direction. 

“Alright. That’s all I have to say.”

Xie Lian reached over towards the stake, and the boy managed to flinch back. 

“Ah, I apologize, but this is going to hurt. I know better than anyone what that stake feels like.” 

He saw Lang Qianqiu swallow. This was going to be messy. He paused and glanced over at Hua Cheng. He knew it was a lot to ask. The ghost gave him an intensely sour grimace.

“If I must,” he grumbled. 

Xie Lian graced the ghost with the warmest smile he could in return. Hua Cheng came to stand next to Lang Qianqiu and then sat down on the edge of the coffin, waiting. Xie Lian reached over to grip the part of the dowel that was protruding from the god’s heart. 

As he made contact, a strange sensation jolted through him and he quickly pulled his hand back. It was the strangest thing, almost impossible to describe. Not necessarily bad, and actually it was almost familiar, but it filled him with a very strange emotion. It felt something like heartache, but almost a good kind of heartache. Like nostalgia. Like a bittersweet ending. 

“San Lang… what did you use to make this?” he asked slowly.

“What is it, gege? What happened?” the ghost asked, his brow now knitted in worry again.

“What did you use to enchant the stake?” 

Hua Cheng’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“You can tell?” he asked in wonderment.

“Tell what?” Xie Lian asked, turning towards the ghost now with a suspicious glare. 

Hua Cheng’s hands clenched, and his eye darted away from Xie Lian’s. An extremely bitter expression crossed his face.

“It's made from a part of you. The tree this dowel was carved from grew over your casket. The ground all around your gravesite was saturated with blood, and that tree fed on it.” 

Xie Lian’s jaw dropped. A tree had grown from his blood?! He had absolutely no idea what to do with this information. No idea if he should be offended or not. 

He looked back at Lang Qianqiu’s face. His pupils were completely blown out and he looked as confused as Xie Lian felt.

 Xie Lian hesitated, but reached out once more and touched the dowel. That same rush. It was like a part of him, and yet it was so foreign at the same time. Like a little piece of his soul that he didn’t even notice had gone missing, only they’d remained apart so long they hardly recognized each other. It surged into him and he gritted his teeth, this time not letting go. He could feel the weight of it settle into him. It hurt, but he welcomed it just the same.

Suddenly a groan escaped Lang Qianqiu, his eyes squeezed shut like he was now in deep pain. Xie Lian didn’t know what had happened, but he understood needed to do this next part quickly. 

“Prepare yourself, Lang Qianqiu.”

The boy’s eyes opened and locked onto his, fierce and determined. He met that gaze with an expression he hoped would convey no hard feelings. 

In a swift motion, Xie Lian pulled the stake from his heart. 

The man gasped, but thankfully did not scream, as blood gushed forth. All the spells broke, and Lang Qianqiu’s hands swiftly leapt up to stem the flow. He groaned as he slumped over, landing on his side. Xie Lian would have liked to catch him, but he didn’t dare touch him further. He had no idea what he would do now that he was free. He still had his godhood, so he wasn’t weak like a newborn the way Xie Lian had been.

Hua Cheng languidly balanced his shiny black boot on the thigh of the prince in order to transfer spiritual power, and Xie Lian shook his head in mild disapproval. Hua Cheng just crossed his arms, his eye averted. The boy continued to gasp and cough and writhe, but within a few moments, it was clear that the spiritual power was beginning to heal him. Once again, Xie Lian had to marvel at the sheer amount of spiritual energy Hua Cheng must carry at all times.

Lang Qianqiu’s breathing finally calmed, and he looked blearily up at Xie Lian. His hatred was as plain as day, and as expected as it was, it still hurt. Hua Cheng took his boot off of him and stood up.

“You’ll live,” Hua Cheng spat at him.

“You can access your spiritual powers now, so you’ll be back to normal in no time. Drink lots of water and be glad you don’t have to recover the hard way,” Xie Lian said tiredly.

The boy just stared at him, making no move to even get up. He just stared and stared, saying nothing. Eventually, Xie Lian stood up to go. He had nothing left to say. He tossed his silver mask into the coffin as he did. He was done with all of this. Lang Qianqiu was probably calling for backup, so he was itching to retreat before anyone might arrive.

“All this time,” the boy spoke up finally. His voice was like gravel. Xie Lian turned back around and glanced down. “You’ve been in that coffin?” His expression was surprisingly inscrutable. He used to wear his heart on his sleeve.

“Until six months ago, yes,” he stated. “Then Hua Cheng finally found me.”

Lang Qianqiu slowly managed to pull himself back up into a sitting position. He was trembling heavily. He coughed a mouthful of blood into his hand and swallowed.

“You’re right, I do still hate you. You still killed my father. There is this part of me that would love to nail you right back in,” he said icily. 

Xie Lian could see Hua Cheng stiffen in his periphery. Oh, this could get really bad . They should leave. He could feel that warm buzzing under his skin again, like his nerves were frayed. 

“But,” Lang Qianqiu continued, “I would never… knowingly… do that to someone, no matter their crime… especially not to an immortal.” 

He curled forward suddenly and convulsed, hacking up blood once more. Xie Lian winced, glad he’d been unconscious after getting his own stake pulled out. Lang Qianqiu took a few wet, labored breaths before he could speak again.

“At least… not now ,” he said, spitting more blood into the dirt. 

Xie Lian couldn’t see, but he could sense Hua Cheng’s satisfaction. It annoyed him.

“I’ve really been in here less than six months?” Lang Qianqiu asked then, somewhat skeptical. 

Xie Lian nodded and though he felt terrible he almost laughed at him. Lang Qianqiu just shook his head, disbelieving. Xie Lian knew it probably felt longer.

“Seventy years… I’ll consider your sentence served,” he said, wiping blood from his mouth.

Xie Lian felt his body finally relax for the first time since entering this cave. There wasn’t going to be a fight after all. At least he didn’t think so. He didn’t miss the way Hua Cheng's fists tightened, offended at the thought that his God deserved any kind of punishment. The ghost also knew he was still in trouble and was smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself.

Either way, Lang Qianqiu was willing to move on. Xie Lian gave the god an appreciative bow.

“Thank you. I am sorry that I lied to you,” he said softly. “I should have told you it was Prince An Le. I just didn’t want to add his betrayal on top of everything else.” 

Lang Qianqiu’s expression had remained fairly frigid for all of this, but at the mention of his friend, his face crumpled slightly. His eyes were shining with tears again. 

“Why should I believe you, master? Why should I believe any of this?”

“I said at the beginning that you didn’t have to believe me. Believe whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Why would you let me punish you? You could have defeated me soundly.” 

Xie Lian bundled the ends of his sleeves into his own hands as a swift wave of that old grief washed over him. That old guilt.

“Even if it was necessary, I still killed your father,” Xie Lian said quietly. “I also failed to stop the massacre. Protecting your family was a part of my duty, and I failed.”

They were both quiet and solemn for a moment. 

“Did the Xianle people really hate us that much? Even after everything my father did for them?” 

The boy’s voice was now strained by the burden of his own grief. Xie Lian wanted to reach over and pat his head like he always used to do. It would be wildly inappropriate, but it was interesting that after all this, it was still his natural impulse. 

“It was only the royals who were still holding onto the past.” 

“But you’re a royal. You should have been the one who hated us most,” he said, his own golden eyes piercing into Xie Lian’s, Crown Prince to Crown Prince. Xie Lian smiled at him sadly.

“Ah, my kingdom… was fated to end, or so I was told. I tried to stop it anyhow, but I just made its inevitable fall even worse. What right do I have to punish what grew from the ashes of my failure?” 

Lang Qianqiu frowned deeply at him. For a moment, he wondered if this stubborn boy would have done the same as him in that situation. They were perhaps too much alike.

Xie Lian felt itchy all over. It was time to wrap this up. He looked the boy up and down, getting his last look. Such a pitiful state. He’d really like to see what he looked like once he was filled out again. Standing tall and proud as a heavenly general.

“The moment I met you, I knew that you were honorable and good, like your father. I am not surprised to see you’ve ascended. You should report back before you lose any more worshipers,” Xie Lian said, pride dancing in his eyes. 

Lang Qianqiu’s eyes actually lit up at this, and Xie Lian could see a little flash of that young boy again in him, always so hungry for his praise. He quickly schooled his expression and looked away coolly. 

That pulse under his skin again. 

He really didn’t have long.

Lang Qianqiu moved to stand, but he swayed, and though Xie Lian reached out a hand to steady him, he pushed his hand away. 

“Don’t. Don’t get the wrong idea. I still don’t forgive you.”

“Right,” Xie Lian said, pulling his hands back. 

Lang Qianqiu laboriously stood on his own, though it was clear his legs were struggling just to hold his weight after all this time. He straightened, and faced Xie Lian squarely.

“I am willing to believe you. I believe you meant me no harm, at the very least.” 

Xie Lian gave him a puzzled look. The god suddenly looked awkward. 

“It’s just that all that time I spent in there… that dowel never hurt. It didn’t make sense why, but I think now it does. It was made from you so… I think that means you never really wanted to hurt me. So I believe it.” 

Xie Lian felt his heart swell up at these words, and indescribable relief flooded him then. Lang Qianqiu hadn’t had to feel that pain, that constant horrible pain after all. All because Hua Cheng had used something made from him. In his own strange way, he’d been able to shield Lang Qianqiu without knowing it.

“You still deserved to be punished, State Preceptor,” he said, pushing that awkwardness aside. “But I’m sorry that I couldn’t have just executed you outright. I am sorry you went through that instead.” 

He heard a snort from Hua Cheng from the corner of the cave. It was full of scorn. Xie Lian resisted the urge to shoot him a look. 

“You don’t need to apologize. I never held it against you.”

The look in Lang Qianqiu’s eye wasn’t so cold now, though he wouldn’t call it warm either. It felt like… they were even. Lang Qianqiu gave him a proper bow of the head.

Xie Lian tucked his hands into his sleeves and did the same. 

“Gege?” he heard Hua Cheng somewhere behind him. He seemed alarmed. 

“Gege!” he heard from somewhere far away.

In that moment of reconciliation, Xie Lian ascended for the third time.

Hua Cheng stood there, stunned, utterly dumbfounded in a cloud of dust. 

Every hair was standing on end, the buzz of static still clinging to his robes. Lang Qianqiu had been blown back a couple feet and had landed square on his ass. They were both staring at the ground where His Highness had been standing, and it now stood empty save for a shaft of moonlight illuminating the scorch marks on the cave floor. They both looked up in tandem to see a massive hole blown right through the top of the mountain, no doubt from the heavens. 

His Royal Highness had ascended again before their very eyes. Hua Cheng glanced over at the inferior Crown Prince and sneered. 

“Your way out, General.” He said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the new skylight. “When you get back up there, you should watch what you say. If I hear any word of you trying to turn people against him, I’ll know, and I will make you regret it.”  

Lang Qianqiu just stared at him in alarm, and his gaze warily drifted to a butterfly floating just a few feet away. Before he could respond, Hua Cheng threw his dice and exited the tomb. If he remained any longer he might be tempted to knock the boy around again. 

The darkened world around him swirled and faded into something more red, but no less dark. The balcony of Paradise Manor. Two fingers instantly went to his temple.

“Black Water. Don’t ask questions, just head to the ascension gate. You all should have a newcomer. I need to you to give me a play by play of everything that’s happening.”

Hua Cheng was tempted to message His Highness, but he probably didn’t want to hear from him right now. He had enough to contend with anyhow.

“What the fuck, Crimson Rain, just who in the hell is this guy?!” He Xuan replied, sounding stilted and uncharacteristically frazzled.

“What do you mean?” 

“This place is falling apart! The bell has been going crazy, several palaces have outright collapsed from all the shaking. What kind of fucking ascension even is—OH FUCK—” his sentence was cut off abruptly. 

“Black Water? Black Water!” 

Hua Cheng cursed and had to resist the urge to just grab his dice and head up there himself. He did have a personal door he used in Ming Yi’s palace. The only thing stopping him was the fact that doing so might make things more difficult for His Highness. He would only go up if he needed to. If they threatened him in any way, Hua Cheng would turn the place upside down. He’d paint the grand avenue with blood if need be.

Damn it. If only a butterfly had gone with him.

Hua Cheng was reeling, consumed by an odd mixture of elation, pride, and fear. It sounded like a hell of an ascension. His God would likely be upset by it, but Hua Cheng was tickled pink at the thought of his arrival toppling half of their golden palaces. It’s what they deserved for kicking him out twice. He clearly belonged there. It was about time they recognized that Xie Lian was more of a God than any of them. 

“The fucking bell fell from the tower.” Black Water’s cold voice popped into his head once more.

“It didn’t land on you, so who cares. Are you at the gate?” Hua Cheng asked impatiently.

“Not yet. It did almost land on someone, but they cut it in half to avoid it. Ah, I can see a crowd ahead.”

“Who’d it almost hit?” Hua Cheng couldn’t help but ask.

“General Xuan Zhen.”

Hua Cheng erupted into what could only be described as a howling fit of manic laughter. Perhaps it was the result of being so on edge for several hours, but he was now doubled over, holding onto the banister for support. By the time it was out of his system, it sounded like the rabble in the streets below was decidedly quieter. Hua Cheng actually wiped tears from his eye. 

“Perfect.” 

“Looks like he’s landed. Ling Wen is greeting him. Can I ask who he is now?”

“It’s Fang Xin. My one and only friend,” Hua Cheng replied wryly. “But you may also know him as the already twice-ascended Crown Prince of Xianle.”

Black Water was quiet for a pronounced moment. 

“What the fuck Crimson Rain? Are you sure he’s Fang Xin too?”

“I pulled him out of the coffin six months ago,” Hua Cheng said darkly. “So yes, I am.”

“… you mean that whole time he was actually—Oh.”

“What is it?” 

Hua Cheng was starting to feel positively mad. He should just use a soul shifting spell and be done with it.

“So… about the big elaborate scheme that we’ve concocted these past months…”

“Oh, did Lang Qianqiu arrive?” Hua Cheng asked with deep distaste. He got back quicker than expected.

“Why is he—”

“Later, Black Water. Just keep telling me everything that happens.”

For the next hour or two, He Xuan gave Hua Cheng a full breakdown of the drama that was to unfold. Ultimately they all ended up at the foot of the Divine Emperor’s throne with Lang Qianqiu giving an account of all that had happened and Hua Cheng’s imprisonment of him. The General must have listened to his final dire warning, because he did stick to the facts. He didn’t embellish nor attempt to smear Xie Lian’s name, other than outing him as the State Preceptor Fang Xin. 

His Highness told his side of the story as well, also explaining that Hua Cheng had been the one to free him from the coffin and nurse him back to health. When asked why Crimson Rain Sought Flower, Scourge of Heaven, would do such a thing for him, particularly the revenge, His Highness merely replied that they had been friends long ago, before he was a Ghost King, and they had lost contact. 

He’d then been bombarded with questions about Hua Cheng and who he really was, but His Highness remained vague or just kept his mouth shut.

As things finally began to wind down, Hua Cheng asked one last thing of He Xuan, and then he exited the balcony, finding himself in their empty bedroom. He was reminded of the words His Highness had spoken just moments before they’d left. He said that once they left this room, everything would change.

Did he know what was coming?  

Hua Cheng silently surveyed the room. This place really wasn’t the same without His Highness in it. An empty shell of a home. He would go visit His Highness soon and make sure he was alright, but first thing’s first. 

Once again, his fingers were to his temple.

“Yin Yu. To my chambers. Now.”

Hua Cheng paced the bedroom for the ten or so minutes it took his subordinate to arrive. His eyes kept resting on the little things that had belonged to His Highness. His discarded Gambler’s Den attire. One of the many hair crowns he’d been given, now cast aside on the floor near the bed. Hua Cheng raised an arm and summoned the wraiths that had hung perpetually over the bed. They lazily returned to their home in his vambraces. 

The room darkened considerably, as did his mood. 

For whatever reason, Yin Yu had failed to mention his city was overrun with Heavenly Officials. Heavenly Officials investigating the fucking plan they had worked on together for months. All of this had spiraled rapidly out of control because the one person in the world that he trusted he could rely on had let him down. 

He wanted to know why.

The door opened, and the shadowy figure of the Waning Moon Officer slipped in and stood before him with a short bow.

“Chengzhu. How can I be of assistance.” 

Hua Cheng gave him a long, hard look. Yin Yu had to look up. His expression was impossible to discern behind the mask.

“Do you know why I’ve summoned you here?” Hua Cheng asked coldly. He saw the man stiffen slightly, clearly aware that something was wrong.

“No sir,” he stated. Hua Cheng saw him glance around, clearly noting that His Highness was not present.

“You don’t know?” 

His officer seemed at a loss for words. He just shook his head. 

“Remove your mask,” Hua Cheng instructed. 

He saw the man swallow, and his hands shook, but he did as he asked. 

It had been quite awhile since the last time Hua Cheng had looked at the Waning Moon Officer’s real face. He’d almost forgotten what he looked like, not that it was the most memorable of faces. He had pronounced dark circles under his eyes.

“You’ve been working for me for quite a long time now, Yin Yu. You’ve more than earned my trust. That’s why I’m giving you one chance—one chance, to explain how you could have fucked up so spectacularly, and not even realized it.” 

He saw Yin Yu’s dark eyes bulge in fear and felt gratified. His fingers twitched with barely suppressed violence. The Waning Moon Officer opened his mouth, but almost no noise came out.

“I– I…”

“I won’t lie, were you anyone else I would tear you to shreds… but again, this is the first time this has happened, and I’m a fair man. Explain why I wasn’t informed of the band of heavenly officials parading around Ghost City this evening?”

“H-Heavenly—” 

“You didn’t know at all?”

Yin Yu’s whole body was visibly shaking now. Hua Cheng wondered if he might actually run.

“No.. Sir… I wasn’t aware.”

Hua Cheng nodded, as if in understanding. 

“Tell me, how could His Highness know, but not you? Were you not both at the Gambler’s Den together?” Hua Cheng asked, taking a dangerous step towards his underling. 

The man shrunk down within his shadow, but he did not attempt to put space between them. Instead, his eyes darted quickly down. 

“I… I’m afraid I did step out for a bit.”

“You… stepped out. For what, an extended bathroom break?” Hua Cheng asked as he took the front of Yin Yu’s robes in one hand, nearly lifting the man onto his toes.

“No, No! It was… I was…”

“You were WHAT?!” Hua Cheng growled in his face.

“I was looking into something else.”

“And what might that be? What could be so important?! ”

Yin Yu slowly raised one hand and reached into the breast of his robes. Hua Cheng half expected a weapon, but he knew his officer was smart enough not to dare. He pulled from his robes a very old, vaguely familiar book. Hua Cheng released his lapel and snatched up the desiccated looking tome. He glanced in it and paused. 

“This? I told you to add it to the Mount Tonglu collection and move on. Why do you still have this in your possession?” 

He saw Yin Yu wither, head lowered, almost like he was in physical pain.

“I was… researching. Trying to translate it. I thought… I hoped…”

The situation suddenly became clear.

“You thought it would show you how to break your shackle,” he said with a sigh. Yin Yu nodded glumly.

“I… I’m sorry it distracted me from my post. I was meeting with someone I thought could tell me where it came from. If I could just figure out the language it was in… I thought…”

Hua Cheng pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Yin Yu, I can read it.” 

Yin Yu tensed, looking still as a statue, eyes bulging once more. He very slowly looked up and met Hua Cheng’s eye.

“What? You… but… you said… then why did you say—?!”

“I know most of the language it’s in but it’s nonsense. Random words. Code. Unless you want to spend years agonizing over it, you need the cipher its author used in order to read it.” 

Yin Yu looked utterly demoralized and Hua Cheng could only wonder at how many countless hours he had wasted on this instead of just asking. Though Hua Cheng had begun this conversation furious with his officer, he couldn’t help but feel almost sorry for him now. 

What an idiot. 

“Before you kill or fire me, could you just tell me where it came from?” Yin Yu asked in a quiet and thoroughly defeated voice.

“It came from the same place it was found. Mount Tonglu. There used to be a kingdom there a couple thousand years ago. You can still find ruins.” Yin Yu looked dubious.

“Then how the hell can you know the…  nevermind. Thank you, sir, for telling me.” He then made a low bow and remained in it, ready to accept whatever Hua Cheng’s punishment would be. Hua Cheng regarded him grimly, as he considered this himself.

“Yin Yu, tonight’s failure was inexcusable. The Heavenly Officials snooping around were investigating Lang Qianqiu’s disappearance, and because you weren’t there to mitigate things, His Highness learned about it.” He saw Yin Yu flinch.

“I had to take him to Lang Qianqiu. I had to free Lang Qianqiu. After all our hard work in nailing him in.”

Yin Yu dropped immediately into a kneeling position. 

“I’m sorry, Chengzhu!” he cried, the magnitude of his mistake now clear. 

Hua Cheng stared down at him, his heart filled with spite knowing that his hands were actually tied. The path of forgiveness certainly was not easy.

“Earlier, I had thoughts of tearing you apart with my butterflies. Cutting you down to nothing. However, something unexpected happened as a result of all these… unfortunate circumstances. Something… good. For that reason, and that reason alone, I will spare you the worst possible death,” he said darkly.

He watched Yin Yu’s forehead hit the rug. He looked just like Hua Cheng had just a few hours ago.

“I did as you asked.” Black Water’s voice suddenly interrupted. He felt a small wave of relief. He didn’t bother to respond.

“Does that mean… a less terrible death still awaits me?” Yin Yu asked, utterly resigned.

“One month.” Hua Cheng answered.

“One month… to live?”

“A suspension. A forced vacation. Get out of my sight for one month.”

Yin Yu’s head shot up, his eyes confused but bright.

“S-sir?!”

“I’m not going to kill you, idiot. This is the first time you’ve failed me. Besides, after we freed General Tai Hua, His Highness ascended again.”

He saw Yin Yu literally jump at that news, blinking in utter disbelief. Hua Cheng felt a proud smile pluck at the corner of his lips.

“I suppose it's time to get my own house back in order anyhow,” Hua Cheng said, cracking his neck.

“Scram.”

Hua Cheng then chucked the weathered old tome at him. The man practically dove in order to catch it. He clutched it to his chest like it was his own dear infant. Strange. He had never suspected that Yin Yu cared so much about being shackled.

“Take this fucking thing with you and tell me if you happen to come across the cipher. I’m not translating a thing without it.” 

The man’s throat bobbed, and he actually looked choked with emotion. Hua Cheng wasn’t sure if it was gratefulness or just relief that his life was spared.

“Yes sir!” he said, nearly breathlessly.

“Get!” 

Yin Yu scrambled to his feet and practically fled the room. Hua Cheng just shook his head, feeling mildly unsatisfied. Of course he couldn’t actually harm his subordinate. His Highness would never have forgiven him for that. He might be proud of Hua Cheng for letting him go, however. 

One step closer to being forgiven himself, he hoped.

Chapter Text

Mu Qing leaned back against the edge of the pool and cracked his back before settling deeper into the steaming water. He pulled the guan from his hair and let himself slip beneath the surface for a moment or two before coming back up for air. He rested the back of his head on the ledge and looked up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused. He was exhausted.

Today had been… a lot.

He’d spent half the day trying to get right here, where he was now. One thing after another had gotten in his way. 

He’d only been to the ghost realm a small handful of times, but that place—especially Crimson Rain’s cesspool—always left him feeling dirty in a way that was hard to describe. Like the air itself was putrid and corruptive, and it was still clinging to his clothes. The stink of ghost qi, perhaps. Upon returning to heaven, he’d wanted a bath more than anything in the world. He’d also wanted the chance to rest and think about who he had happened to meet in that gambling hall. 

A ghost from his past, but one that yet lives and breathes.

It had been incredibly disturbing to see that face again after six centuries. His Highness’s soft voice still dripped with irritating sincerity, but his eyes had grown much harder than he remembered. Even more jarring, other than his garish attire, was the deflated physical state they’d found the Crown Prince in. 

It shouldn’t have bothered Mu Qing, to see His Holiness so thin and pale. Mu Qing shouldn’t have to care about anything he’d gone through after his banishment. His Highness had made his choices. Mu Qing was no longer the prince’s attendant. It wasn’t his job to tend to him or try to fix his problems. He was not his friend. He didn’t even need to refer to him as “His Highness” anymore. Xie Lian’s spiritual powers were sealed, so really, he wasn’t even a fellow cultivator anymore.

Mu Qing looked down at his pruning fingers and the callouses there. His mind just kept drifting back to Xie Lian sitting at that gambler’s den table. The way the lighting had made his cheeks look so sunken. How thin his neck looked, and his wrists. He now knew why, of course, but it was hard to imagine that this was really the same person who had always made him feel so pathetic in comparison. It wasn’t right.

At the time of their meeting, Mu Qing had thought the world had just taken its toll on him. He couldn’t imagine how the perfect white lotus had ended up living in Ghost City of all places, but it couldn’t be good for one’s health. No doubt he was downtrodden after 600 years wallowing in the mortal and ghost realms, apparently as a lowly scrap collector, if rumors were to be believed. He more likely was still working as a street busker, using all the incredible skill and grace he’d been born with as a cheap performance.

Mu Qing had always known the prince was no better than anyone else. He’d had an auspicious birth, and that’s all. Xie Lian spent his early life prancing around and pretending he was the best because he could get away with it. Sitting across from him in that den of sin, Mu Qing thought that perhaps he had been properly humbled. Working at such a depraved place, working for someone like Hua Cheng, it was clear now that this white lotus had sunken into the mud once things became hard. 

Feng Xin had been bent out of shape at his choice of employment, but not Mu Qing. Not really. Xie Lian was old news from a very tiny portion of his life. He was a stepping stone on Mu Qing’s path to godhood and that's all. Mu Qing moved on a long time ago. He was the one who now lived in a palace. Xie Lian probably swept the Ghost King’s floors. He didn’t care about him anymore.

So why had it stung so much to look at him? Why had his first instinct been to start fussing over him? Like old times. He’d held his tongue, kept up his front, but only barely. He might have overcompensated and acted harshly, in retrospect. Knowing what he now knew about Xie Lian’s circumstances, he couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy about his own behavior. He shouldn’t. Xie Lian didn’t even like him back then, and by the time they parted ways he probably hated Mu Qing. 

I don’t care. I don’t care. I don't.

After that encounter at the Gambler’s Den, he’d almost wanted to break his cultivation and have a drink. He’d dragged himself back up to heaven, hoping to bathe first and foremost. He wanted to wipe himself clean of everything that had occurred there. His plans to go home and scrub Ghost City from his skin had been deterred once he reported their findings to Jun Wu, however. 

Instead of dismissing him, Jun Wu had asked him instead to go collect the underling from the palace of Lang Qianqiu that was being investigated. It was time to interrogate him. Jun Wu was going to question him personally, so Mu Qing shouldn’t have to be involved further. Normally he’d be all over this kind of intrigue and insert himself into the situation, but right then all he’d really wanted was to go home. Collecting this individual should have been quick; half an incense time at most. He’d gone to Lang Qianqiu’s palace but the official in question was nowhere to be found.

Either he’d been tipped off or he already knew the writing was on the wall. He’d run off to the mortal realm and attempted to hide. Up to this point, this official had vehemently cried that he was being set up, but if this was the truth, running was a very bad call. It made him look guilty. 

Mu Qing thought it must be him. There was no hard proof, but there was an overwhelming amount of circumstantial evidence. Most officials were more than happy to just accept he was to blame—he had a reputation when it came to his ambition and what he was willing to do to get ahead. He had very few friends. 

In a way, Mu Qing could relate. If he was being falsely accused just because he was the most obvious choice for a scapegoat, then he certainly could relate. At that point, however, it didn’t look like it could be anyone else but him. 

Mu Qing had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t Hua Cheng. Lang Qianqiu wasn’t in Ghost City, and they had no evidence to support a case where he was involved in any way. There had never been any accounts of the two of them interacting at any point. Though Hua Cheng was preferable to one of their own, just blaming Hua Cheng because he also seemed the obvious choice was also wrong. If it was him, it meant he had thoroughly set up that junior official, but why would he bother? Why not just take the blame? If it was him, he would be gloating about it. 

No, it had to be the junior deputy.

Though he was already exhausted from the hours spent searching Ghost City, now Mu Qing had a whole other heavenly official to look for, and he could be anywhere in the world.

Mu Qing tried to contact Feng Xin through his personal communication array, and all he’d received was a curt ‘Not now ’ and no more responses after that. He was even more distraught than Mu Qing over seeing their old prince in the flesh. Well, someone had to be the responsible one. Mu Qing wasn’t going to let his own emotional baggage get in the way of his job. That’s why he was still a god.

It had taken him and the Wind Master almost three hours to track that official down, which wasn’t bad considering it could have taken weeks. Insights from his fellow junior officials had given them a more targeted area to search in. They hauled him back to Heaven and that should have been the chance for Mu Qing to finally take a breather and a bath.

Then, of course, at the last minute Shi Qingxuan had to say something about Feng Xin. He’d had to go and blurt out that he was probably in Ling Wen’s archive looking up prayers. 

At first Mu Qing had stormed off towards home, annoyed at Feng Xin for putting his palace's matters first. Then, another possibility crept into his head. What if Xie Lian had prayed to him? If this had anything to do with Xie Lian, it meant Feng Xin knew something he didn’t about the situation they found him in. If he knew, then Mu Qing wanted to know as well. 

Either way, he was still pissed at being blown off and he’d love to tell Feng Xin so before retiring.

He hadn’t bothered trying to contact him again with his private communication array. He was going to confront him in person. Punching distance. He’d stormed down there in a haze of anger, not at all expecting to find what he did: Feng Xin in probably the worst state he’d ever seen him in. 

He’d just been sitting in the middle of the aisle, like a child, his eyes still red after reading the now dampened contents of a scroll. It was deeply disturbing to see him of all people like this. The tough and sturdy martial warrior, Lord Big Dick, wilted in impotent defeat. 

Mu Qing hadn’t even had it in him to make fun. It had to be something really bad. It had to be related to Xie Lian, because who else could hit below the belt in such a way?

Mu Qing still was not ready for it. He’d braced himself, and still felt blindsided.

Feng Xin revealed that His Highness was trapped and starved for decades and that he’d prayed to them both in his desperation. He couldn’t die, but he was still entirely mortal. He would have felt all of it. That’s why he was thin and pale now. It wasn’t a side effect of making Ghost City his home. He had suffered something unimaginable.

After Feng Xin left, Mu Qing had rummaged through all of Feng Xin’s prayers, finding all that involved the Crown Prince. There had been many. They were very hard to listen to.

Then, like a masochist, he’d found his own shelf and went through his own prayers from that same decade. Despite his mounting exhaustion, he’d spent over an hour searching. There had only been three prayers total, one of which probably didn’t even count, as it was just his name whispered. 

Of course, Mu Qing had probably been Xie Lian’s absolute last resort.

It made sense, but it also left him feeling incredibly upset at the difference between them. They’d both left him behind and reached for heaven. Sure, Xie Lian and Mu Qing left off on pretty sour terms, but it’s not like Mu Qing wouldn’t have reached out a hand in that kind of dire situation! He wouldn’t have just left him to that kind of torment out of spite! 

Mu Qing had left the archive feeling about how Feng Xin looked. He hadn’t let himself cry, not over the old news that was Xie Lian. He wouldn’t let evidence of his aching heart show on his face. Mu Qing had then dragged himself towards his palace at last, weighed down now with sadness and fury, though he didn’t know what to do with any of it. It was far too late now. 

He had been so ready for that bath. It was so late.

And then.

Rumbling. Crashing. The bell of heaven clanging so hard it sounded like it might shatter. 

The streets had been silent and deserted moments ago. Now Mu Qing found himself running around with the other heavenly officials just trying to figure out what in the hell was going on. It seemed like an ascension was occurring, but no ascension had ever been like this. It was usually just a stroke of lightning or two, a thunderous crash, and then the joyous clanging of the bell to announce the arrival of a new god. 

This was more like the arrival of a calamity. An invasion. That bell was shrieking in horror and warning. Mu Qing’s first thought was that Hua Cheng had come here in response to their intrusion in his city. His arrival last time had not been heralded by earthquakes shaking the very foundations, however. 

The bell was swinging with twice the usual vigor, and of course Mu Qing had to be the one below when it swung itself from its perch and came crashing down. It had nearly landed right on top of him, but thankfully Mu Qing never went anywhere without his saber. He’d had to slice the thing in two in order not to be pulverized by it. 

He knew Ling Wen would have something to say about that. If memory served, that bell had been hanging there since heaven was established.

After this, Mu Qing had completely forgotten about taking a bath at all. He, like all the other officials, needed to find out what in the world had just happened. Was that even an ascension? They all headed towards the ascension gate to see who could possibly be powerful or important enough to make such a remarkable and devastating entrance. 

Mu Qing could not have been happier to be so far away when the new god arrived. He was glad he was preoccupied by that bell. It meant he was in the back.

What were the odds?

What were the odds that the very day he and Feng Xin had found their long lost prince, he had ascended yet again. It almost felt like somehow the two of them had unwittingly brought him back with them.

Xie Lian was no longer old news that Mu Qing could just put into the back of his mind and forget again.

The moment his eyes had locked onto Xie Lian’s thin frame and apologetic smile, Mu Qing had panicked and darted behind a large pillar. He wasn’t ready to face him again just yet. Not with his mad, desperate, sometimes furious prayers clinging to Mu Qing’s mind like a leech. 

Mu Qing knew that it was not his fault that Xie Lian’s prayers hadn’t been answered. No offering: no audience. That’s how it worked. And yet. 

And yet, Mu Qing felt like he was to blame for something. It was like he was a mortal again, standing in His Highness’s shadow, terrified of screwing something up or letting him down. Afraid to see Xie Lian’s disappointment in him, his judgment. He hated this feeling. He hadn’t felt this way once since becoming a god. 

Others may not like him, but he had worked his ass off to be treated with his due respect. He’d never been made to feel lesser by anyone's mere presence, other than perhaps the divine emperor himself. 

Instead of sticking around to watch the drama unfold, Mu Qing simply left. He didn’t want to look at Xie Lian right now and he didn’t want Xie Lian to look at him. He’d hear all about it later. That was fine. For once, he didn’t need to be on top of all the gossip. He didn’t need to linger in Heaven’s public communication array.

He’d slipped into the night towards his palace, and that long awaited soak in the tub.

He’d finally made it here. 

He couldn’t relax at all, however. 

He had manically scrubbed and scrubbed at his skin until it was bright pink. He’d washed his hair four times until it squeaked under his fingers. He hadn’t been able to wash away any of his tension. Hot water didn’t seem to work on his overactive mind.

Xie Lian is here. He’s really here in heaven. He’s a fellow god.

Mu Qing couldn’t imagine what he’d done in the past few hours to warrant an ascension. He didn’t especially care. It was Xie Lian, center of the known universe, after all. Heavenly Tribulations could be really bizarre things, so it didn’t really matter what specific thing had happened. The Wind Master ascended while drinking wine, for fuck’s sake.

It was oddly humiliating that he’d have to welcome him back after centuries of feeling like he had surpassed him and left him in the dust. 

Xie Lian, for all his gifts and talent, had made idiotic decisions. He’d only even been a god for a small handful of years before throwing it all away. He’d been one of the most powerful beings in existence, with follower numbers only rivaled by the divine emperor himself, but the fool put his own feelings above it all and jumped down to burn with his kingdom. 

Mu Qing may not win popularity contests, but at least he had staying power. He knew how to play the game. He wasn’t a fool.

The question was why in the hell Heaven was so determined to keep bringing Xie Lian back here. Just what was so great about him? How could Heaven be fooled? Was it because he was that good with a sword? He couldn’t even swing one in his current state! Did he ascend through the sheer magnitude of his suffering? Did that warrant godhood?

Why am I getting so heated about this?

Mu Qing slammed his fist down into the water, causing a large splash as frustration rolled through him. He hated that Xie Lian’s claws were so deep in him after all this time—that he had, in fact, not moved on and put these petty feelings to rest. 

He wished he could approach the prince like a stranger—impartial, uninterested—but god he was still bitter. Xie Lian’s mere presence still had the power to make him feel defensive. Inadequate. He was still ashamed of his actions back then, even if they still felt logical to him. He’d made the right choice in leaving instead of being dragged down with him. 

Memory of that day was still fresh somehow. Their last moments together on that mountain. Sometimes it still felt like he’d never been able to wash those mud-stains off. He just had to remind himself that he had stuck around longer than most would have. He didn’t owe Xie Lian anything. He’d been his servant. That’s all.

Xie Lian's return would be so much easier to contend with if he hadn’t learned about the prayers though. The fact that Xie Lian had reached out to him and he never knew it was killing him. He hated that under all his anger was a solid layer of pity he couldn’t be rid of.

I wish I’d never followed Feng Xin down there.

Mu Qing sunk down lower into the water, only his eyes and nose hovering above its surface. He should have dried off ages ago, but getting out meant going to bed finally, and that meant facing whatever news tomorrow would bring. It meant he could no longer hide.

There was bound to be plenty of jokes about him sweeping up Xie Lian’s new fucking palace. Well, if he could ever afford to have one erected. He’d probably have to pay for all the damages first. He had no followers so it wasn’t like he had access to any merits. That foolish prince really couldn’t do anything without causing himself problems, could he? Mu Qing almost wanted to laugh. Some things never change.

Sitting here in silence, nothing but the gentle sounds of lapping water, Mu Qing realized that there was also a little sliver of him that was pleased about all this. 

A tiny little bud of something happy that he wasn’t sure he wanted to even address. 

Relief, perhaps.

Relief that His Highness’s seemingly endless banishment had reached its end. That he’d apparently redeemed himself from whatever the fuck had apparently occurred during his second ascension. 

Relief that this person who had suffered, who had at one time actually been rather important to him, would be okay now. He wasn’t stuck working for that menace to survive, at any rate.

Mu Qing didn’t hate Xie Lian. He’d lost a lot of respect for him back then, but he’d never hated him. He liked for people to recognize that the Crown Prince wasn’t all he had been chalked up to be, but he would never want to watch him suffer and struggle. In fact, as he now realized, he might have even missed him just a little bit. He even hoped Xie Lian wouldn’t immediately fuck it all up again and end up banished once more. Though in some ways, that happening would actually be hilarious, Mu Qing now wanted the chance for a new beginning. 

He didn’t know how well they’d be able to get along, but it almost didn’t matter. Mu Qing looked forward to interacting with him god to god—as proper equals. He wouldn’t be talked down to now. He wanted to reforge their relationship into something new. Something that didn’t make Mu Qing feel small.

Mu Qing hoped… 

He buried his steam-flushed face in his wrinkled hands. He didn’t even want to think about that. He didn’t want to admit to himself what he really hoped for.

He finally stood up from the water and reached for a towel.

Just then, a voice popped privately into his head. Shi Qingxuan, Lord Wind Master:

“Where the hell have you been? I know you must be lurking in the array. Can you believe that the new god is the villainous State Preceptor Fang Xin?!”

Mu Qing slipped, nearly knocking himself out on the pool ledge.

Chapter Text

In a roaring whirl of light and thunder and the ringing of a distant bell, Xie Lian found himself standing in Heaven once again.

What followed shortly thereafter would be spoken of and gossiped about both in Heaven and on Earth for many months. It began as a simple conversation with Ling Wen, as witnessed by a number of officials who swarmed there to greet the newest god. It ended in a spectacle, as Lang Qianqiu managed to drag his emaciated body back to the heavenly realm.

Just about everything came to light then. Xie Lian half expected Hua Cheng to arrive in the middle of it, but thankfully, he did not. Xie Lian did not want to begin his third ascension by bringing on a war with the Ghost Realm. His violent arrival had already caused property damage and he didn’t want to make anything worse.

His identity as State Preceptor Fang Xin became immediately known, as did both his time spent in the coffin and his rescue by the terrifying Ghost King, Hua Cheng. Lang Qianqiu gave a thorough report of his experience to Jun Wu in front of nearly everyone. 

Thankfully, Xie Lian was not blamed for the god’s entrapment, but he was grilled about his association with the Scourge of Heaven. He was glad he hadn’t been wearing his Gambler’s Den attire.

Ultimately, it was decided that, moving forward, Xie Lian would be the lead for any affairs or interactions with the ghost realm. Xie Lian agreed to it, essentially becoming an ambassador to Ghost City. Jun Wu didn’t like their friendship one bit, but he did state that it could be useful to them. Oddly, it didn’t seem like he planned retribution against the Ghost King for Lang Qianqiu’s god-napping. Perhaps he thought it would cause too many casualties on the side of Heaven. Then again, it’s not like Lang Qianqiu died. Hua Cheng had eventually agreed to let him go. No real harm was done, was it? 

By the end of all the deliberations, Xie Lian was positively exhausted. Though he had mostly recovered over the last half-year, this was still a long day. He’d never had to push this hard. He was just glad he hadn’t ascended with his coffin-body or something.

After Jun Wu adjourned the meeting, the crowds dispersed and all the heavenly officials drifted away to their respective palaces. At one point, Xie Lian thought maybe he had caught sight of Feng Xin, but now he was nowhere to be seen. It was just as well—according to Ling Wen, some of the property damage included his palace. He was probably pissed.

Though he’d been informed that his own palace would be constructed in the next couple days, at the moment, he had no idea where to go. 

No one seemed eager to talk with him either. No warm welcomes or anything else of the sort, other than a short, lukewarm moment between him and the Emperor in which he was mostly just scolded for staying out of contact. As if he hadn’t tried.  

The other officials were now actively avoiding him, walking all the way to the other side of the street to avoid walking next to him. None of this behavior was surprising. 

God of Misfortune. Laughing Stock. Friend of Hua Cheng.

He had lurked briefly in the heavenly communication array, but once he heard himself referred to as the “doormat god,” he was done. The last thing he heard before slipping out was someone hushing them.

“He’s close with Crimson Rain Sought Flower. You should be careful with how you speak of him publicly. Heaven is full of leaks.”

He couldn’t help but smile a little bit at that. No one here respected him, but at least now they were too afraid of Hua Cheng to insult him openly.

As he wandered down the grand avenue, feeling a bit forlorn and adrift, he considered calling in on Hua Cheng to let him know he was alright. He knew his awful password, and while he was in Heaven, he could borrow the ambient spiritual energy to do whatever he needed, even with a shackle. 

Before he had the chance, he was suddenly approached by a heavenly official he didn’t know. The god was very pale, with long, dark hair pulled up high and eyes like pools of black pitch. His clothing was dark, muted, and utilitarian. He looked rather grumpy, and Xie Lian braced himself for something unpleasant. 

To his surprise, the god had approached him to offer a place to stay. He called himself the Earth Master, Ming Yi. While his countenance remained somewhat tired and crabby, Xie Lian had no choice but to assume he was actually good-hearted, as he was the only Heavenly Official who decided to lend a helping hand. Xie Lian accepted his offer, and the two made their way to his palace. 

By most standards here, it wasn’t a massive place, but it was stylishly appointed in the same muted colors the god liked to wear. He quietly directed Xie Lian to a guest bedroom and then he left without another word. Xie Lian thought he was a rather strange fellow, but then again, so was Xie Lian. The Scrap Immortal. The Doormat God now, apparently, because he didn’t hold a grudge after being buried alive for seventy years. 

Ah well. Even if he was now counted among them again, he didn’t have to start caring what they thought. 

Though he now had a bed he could sleep in and he was very tired, Xie Lian had no desire to turn in just yet. As he opened his bedroom door to see the adjoining courtyard, what greeted him was a black void. He took a few steps back, astonished, until a figure in red materialized from the deep shadows and stepped into the room—none other than Hua Cheng, of course.

“San Lang!” he cried happily. Xie Lian could not fathom it. He really could just waltz into Heaven as he pleased.

“Hello, gege,” the ghost said with a warm smile. The first warm smile he’d encountered in heaven so far.

It had been a very trying past few hours, and part of Xie Lian wanted to run up and hug him out of sheer relief. Hua Cheng stepped into the room properly, looking around with an appraising eye.

“This is the Earth Master’s home. He’s letting me sleep here for now.”

“I’m aware. I asked him to invite you, and he invited me,” Hua Cheng said, giving the bed mattress an experimental push. “Not as good as mine, but I suppose this will do.”

“You… asked him? So you know him?”

“Ming Yi and I go way back, and he owes me a sizable debt,” he said cheerfully. “I had him giving me a play-by-play as the drama up here unfolded.” Suddenly, Xie Lian understood how Hua Cheng gathered all his gossip from Heaven.

“I see.”

“Do you really think I wouldn’t have charged right up if I thought you were in real trouble?” he asked with a sharp grin. Xie Lian rubbed at his forehead.

“I-I’m glad it didn’t have to come to that,” he stammered back. 

Hua Cheng sank down on his bed and regarded him with a soft but reverent look. 

“So then, gege is a god once more. Just as I predicted.” 

Xie Lian sat down next to him, his hands twisting into the robes on his lap.

“I suppose I am. Though I’m not exactly sure why. No one knows how to classify me. I think most of them are calling me The Door—” Two of Hua Cheng’s fingers came up and stopped his lips before he could finish the words.

“You don’t have to say it.” 

Xie Lian took that cool hand in his and pulled it down from his face.

“Heaven hasn’t changed much.”

“If you want to leave, I can take you back to Ghost City,” he said gently.

“I don’t especially want to be here, but… I think I should stay for a little while. While I’m here, I should be able to recover physically a lot faster. I know I’m almost back to normal, but…”

“It would probably speed things up. You aren’t wrong,” Hua Cheng said with a sigh. “What happens then, my God?” he asked. 

Xie Lian faltered. He had no idea. He hadn’t exactly planned for this. He was just going to be a scrap collector again who sometimes moonlighted at a ghostly gambling hall. 

“Well, I ascended without any worshipers other than you. I suppose my first goal should be to find some more. I’ll probably have to go down and build my own temple to start.”

“Why not just use the building in Ghost City? The one I haven’t found a use for?”

Xie Lian gave him an incredulous look.

“It's far too grand for a god of… whatever I am. I think I’d like to find a place among mortals anyway. I miss the sun.”

Hua Cheng humphed dramatically.

“I suppose I’ll just keep it as a personal shrine to my God then.”

“Well, at least the one worshiper I have is very dedicated,” Xie Lian said with a laugh.

“Mm, that I am. Gege, do you know what I think you are now?”

“What’s that?”

“A god of forgiveness.” 

Xie Lian blinked up at him and then burst into laughter again. 

“What a silly thing to be a god of,” he said, wiping a tear away. "Who would need such a thing?"

“Plenty of people. People make bad decisions. Lots of people deal with guilt and want to make amends,” Hua Cheng said, beaming at him. Xie Lian’s eyes softened.

“I can forgive you, San Lang,” he said. The ghost’s eyes flickered away briefly.

“It’s very generous of gege to give me another chance. Thank you.” 

Xie Lian heaved a sigh and leaned ever so slightly against him.

“I suppose… I suppose I actually need to ask for your forgiveness as well.” 

He felt the ghost straighten next to him.

“What on earth would you need to ask forgiveness for?” Hua Cheng asked, almost horrified by the prospect.

“Ah, well… back then. Wu Ming… the way I treated you was…”

“Gege—”

“There’s no excuse for it. I was terrible to you, and I’m sorry.” Xie Lian’s grip on the ghost’s hand was tight, his knuckles white. The ghost exhaled and hung his head slightly.

“Gege, you don’t need to apologize for that. After all you suffered at the hands of others, you had no reason to trust in me.” 

Xie Lian felt his chest tighten. It took a monumental amount of effort to suppress the sob lingering in his throat. He’d made such an effort over the years not to think about this, even in the coffin. He still felt rather raw about it all.

“Still… I was so cold. I was no longer the same god you worshiped. I really don’t understand why you would stay by my side even then.” 

He felt the ghost rub his thumb gently over his.

“Even if you were angry and hurt, gege, it was still you. I would have followed you even if you became the White-Clothed Calamity.” Xie Lian actually cringed at his words.

“Why?” he asked, finally willing to look up and into the dark eye regarding him calmly. The ghost seemed to think for a moment.

“I still don’t think you would have been in the wrong. If someone is punished or treated horribly over circumstances outside of their control, they are well within their rights to strike back. That’s only fair. You shouldn’t have to lay down and accept it.”

Xie Lian’s eyes lowered once more, and, without realizing it or meaning to, he found himself somberly resting his temple against the ghost’s shoulder. Maybe there was some truth in that, but it would never excuse what he’d almost done. That punishment didn’t fit the crime. He didn’t have the energy to argue with him about it, though. He didn’t expect he would change the ghost’s mind.

“Thank you, Wu Ming,” was all he could think to reply. 

“Please don’t thank me, Your Highness,” Hua Cheng said, almost too quietly to hear. 

There was such a weight in those words, and they settled heavily against his heart. Xie Lian pulled himself away from the ghost to give him a measured stare.

“San Lang, as your god of forgiveness, I want to ask something of you,” Xie Lian said. The ghost’s eyebrows rose at the change in his disposition. 

“Name it.”

“Forgive yourself. You have made some mistakes lately, sure, but you’ve also been punishing yourself over circumstances outside of your control for a very long time. I think it’s time to let it go.” 

Hua Cheng’s face went sort of blank, and then his shoulders slumped slightly, defeat written in his expression.

“You say it like it’s easy.”

“I know there’s nothing harder. Forgiving Lang Qianqiu is probably easier in comparison.”

“I still can't forgive him either,” Hua Cheng said, a little bit childishly.

“You don’t have to forgive him. Forbearance is more than enough. Either way, you can’t let your anger continue to poison you. At least try to start forgiving yourself… for me.” 

Hua Cheng’s eye was like a dark, roiling storm as he considered it. 

“For you, gege, anything.” 

Hua Cheng said it with conviction, but his expression betrayed a severe lack of confidence. Xie Lian smiled before lifting the ghost’s hand and placing a small kiss on the top.

“I believe in you.” 

Hua Cheng stared at him, and Xie Lian realized what he’d just done. He really needed to stop acting on impulse like this! It just kept happening! The events of the past day suddenly flooded back, and he remembered that now was really not the time—he was supposed to be shaming this ghost for his deplorable actions. Why did he keep planting kisses on him?! 

“Gege… earlier today, you said you were glad I stuck around to protect you.”

Xie Lian felt the blood drain from his face. Oh, right. The rest of this conversation was yet to come as well. He really shouldn’t have started it in the first place, at least not yet. He felt his stomach lurch in panic, his eyes naturally seeking out escape routes. 

“Ah…haha… yeah, I did,” he replied, appearing far calmer than he felt. He was breaking into a sweat, but hopefully Hua Cheng couldn’t tell.

“Do you remember how that whole conversation went?”

“...most of it, I think.”

“So then, you know what that means? Who you are to me?” Hua Cheng asked slowly. 

Though Hua Cheng’s voice was level, under the surface, his cool demeanor was beginning to crumble. Xie Lian’s blood had first run cold, but now he could feel his face turning hot.

Stay calm. Remember that you’re mad at him. That should ground you.

With every ounce of bravery Xie Lian possessed, he looked up and replied.

“I am that Special Someone you once spoke of. The Beloved that Wu Ming... wanted to avenge.” 

He forced himself to look Hua Cheng in the eye as he said it, forcing himself to see what his reaction would be. His face was like stone, and he seemed to recede into himself slightly, almost pulling his hand away.

“And you’re okay with that? Y-you aren’t… uncomfortable?” he asked.

There was a noticeable tremor, a fear in his voice that was truly heartbreaking. He had always thought Hua Cheng secretly knew how he felt. Why else was he always teasing him? How long had they both been dancing around one another, thinking the same damn thing? They were both fools!

Xie Lian turned a bit more towards him, all of his own fears and uncertainty dispersed to the wind. The ghost’s hand was still firmly in his, and he held it now in both hands. 

“I’m not uncomfortable. As I said, I’m glad. It would be inappropriate for a god to fall for his believer, but if his believer already feels the same, isn’t it okay then?”

Time stood still. It felt like all the air in the room had been sucked away, everything frozen into place. Hua Cheng’s expression was a perfect picture of shock and confusion. If Xie Lian hadn’t been so terrified, it would have been hilarious.

“San Lang?” Xie Lian asked nervously.

The ghost blinked.

“Sorry, I think I might have just hallucinated,” he sputtered out. Xie Lian did laugh then. 

“You didn’t. That was just a terrible way of saying that San Lang is my special someone,” he said softly. 

Xie Lian could practically see Hua Cheng’s mind racing.

“Gege, I…” 

His lips parted, but he still didn’t seem to be able to find the right words. Xie Lian knew that experience very well. Seeing the all-powerful Supreme that even Heaven feared in awkward shambles like this was rather endearing. 

If he couldn’t find the words yet, that was okay. Not every situation needs words. Right now, Xie Lian was actually done with words. Done with talking. Done with wishing and thinking, and holding himself back. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to let himself have it.

To end both their suffering, Xie Lian leaned over, taking Hua Cheng’s face in his hands, and pulled him down into a firm kiss. He was probably a bit clumsy in his eagerness, but Hua Cheng’s lips were just as soft as they always looked, and though cool at first, they warmed almost immediately. 

The ghost froze completely in his grasp, unable to react, and for just a moment, Xie Lian panicked, thinking he’d done something horribly wrong. Just as he was about to pull back and start to apologize, Hua Cheng abruptly leaned into it. His arms circled around Xie Lian’s middle, and he returned the kiss fiercely. The sudden passion of it thrilled Xie Lian and wiped all the remaining thoughts from his head. There was only Hua Cheng, his mouth, and the wonderfully torturous feeling of his hands on him again.

Though he kept his eyes firmly closed, Xie Lian felt himself swept over into the ghost's lap, and those long arms held him very tight—his upper body pressed flush against the ghost’s. He nestled into the embrace like he’d always belonged there, looping his arms around Hua Cheng’s neck as he had done hundreds of times while being carried around. Xie Lian’s grasp tightened, as a wave of overflowing pent-up emotions threatened to completely ruin the moment.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

The ghost seemed to sense his urgency, and with very little hesitation, Hua Cheng tilted his head and boldly deepened the kiss. Xie Lian jolted in surprise. 

Oh.

At first, he was a little unsure of how to respond to this lovely intrusion, but he found himself easily falling into a natural rhythm. Xie Lian quickly decided that he liked this—he liked this a lot, actually. In all these past months, even with all those little urges that Hua Cheng was able to elicit from him, he never considered what it would be like to actually kiss him—to taste him. He hadn’t dared let his thoughts progress that far. He was pleasantly surprised to find the ghost’s mouth was so warm.

In fact, right now, there was nothing cold about their embrace. The ghost king was like a furnace. He kissed him like a man starved. Hua Cheng’s hands tangled in his hair and the back of his robes, trying in vain to hold him even closer, and Xie Lian could feel within his fervid touch the many long years spent waiting and wanting. Wanting him, of all people. 

This was heaven. It was everything Xie Lian had been shamefully yearning for these past months and so much more. He felt nothing even close to guilt. Who deserved what no longer applied. They both wanted each other, so what else really mattered?

Eventually Xie Lian had the unfortunate need to breathe, and he pulled himself back slightly, noticing that—of course—the ghost didn’t share that same need. He was the only one left gasping for air. Hua Cheng, not yet sated, continued to press small kisses around his mouth as Xie Lian caught his breath, and then that one dark eye drifted open, capturing his gaze. For a fleeting moment, such close intimacy filled Xie Lian with the urge to leap up and start making excuses. 

As tightly as Hua Cheng was holding him, he probably couldn’t have even acted on that impulse. There was so much molten affection in his eye, however, that the sudden attack of self-consciousness dissolved. He still felt dangerously heated, and his skin continued to buzz under Hua Cheng’s cruel fingertips, but he wouldn’t even think of pulling away. 

“How long have you felt this way?” Hua Cheng whispered, still with a dazed look of pure disbelief on his face. Xie Lian smiled, feeling timid despite the fact that he’d initiated this.

“Ah… I don’t know… I suppose from the start,” he said with a breathy laugh. “You are, well, you, so it's not like I ever stood a chance.” 

At this distance, he saw Hua Cheng’s pupil grow as his jaw went slack, and Xie Lian knew that if he were not a ghost, he’d be blushing at the compliment. 

“You will be the death of me,” Hua Cheng said in a defeated voice.

“I’ll never let that happen again, San Lang,” Xie Lian replied rather seriously, bringing his hand around to cup his face. He meant it, too. “That can never happen again."

Hua Cheng’s eye softened, and he pulled him into another kiss, this one firm but gentle. Xie Lian melted into it at once. All the remaining tension in his body fled from him, and he felt oddly boneless in Hua Cheng’s arms. He was helpless and completely at his mercy, yet as safe as he could possibly be.

“After I returned, I never stopped searching for you,” Hua Cheng murmured against his lips.

“Thank you for finding me,” Xie Lian whispered back, so relieved to hear him admit this finally. No one else would ever have come looking. He nuzzled the ghost’s nose with his own. 

“Thank you for remembering me.”

He saw the ghost’s eye squint from the smile this brought to his face.

“I told you I wouldn’t forget.”

A small voice from a long time ago drifted into his head, words that had been spoken like an oath, even as he disregarded them. For the thousandth time today, he found himself fighting back tears. And then the ghost’s hungry mouth was on his again, and once again, there was nothing else worth considering. 

To be sure, he was still angry with Hua Cheng. His trust in the ghost would still need to be rebuilt. But there would be plenty of time for that later, he decided. 

The anger would pass, but these feelings would not, and he wasn’t going to throw away this moment for any reason. After the past few hours, after the ridicule and cold shoulders of his fellow gods and the hatred in Lang Qianqiu’s eyes, this was all he wanted to feel right now. 

Here, in Hua Cheng’s arms, he felt cherished and loved without expectation. No demands. No pedestal to balance upon. Hua Cheng still loved him after seeing him pushed face-first into the mud and starved all the way to skin and bones. He’d watched him drink and curse and stumble and weep from his own nightmares. It changed nothing. Though he was a god, with Hua Cheng, he was allowed to be human. What an odd thing to be so relieved over.

The two of them remained wrapped up in each other for a long time. 

Both of them had lived long lives bereft of the simple pleasure of a loving touch, and now it seemed neither of them could get enough. Xie Lian indulged in almost every impulse he’d ignored over the last half year. Their kisses were long and slow and soft, which was nice because Xie Lian had very little energy left. In contrast to the previous spine-breaking hug from earlier, Hua Cheng held him now as though he were made of priceless porcelain. Those hands that had clutched at him so desperately were now tender and attentive. As worshipful as they had always been. 

It brought back many memories from the past half year, and it tugged at his heart to realize his devoted caretaker had felt this way about him all that time. He’d been so completely blind to the true nature of it. Too afraid of being hurt to even consider it. 

Eventually, the evening found the two of them sprawled out in the middle of the bed. It would be more appropriate to call it morning at this point. Xie Lian’s head was resting in the crook of Hua Cheng’s neck, and he was trying very hard not to fall asleep. Despite all the insanity of the day, he felt light as a feather, as if a great crushing weight that had slowly been building had been lifted from his chest at last. The first gentle rays of dawn sunlight were just beginning to stream through the window, painting the room in a rosy glow. 

What an odd place for a first kiss, he thought absentmindedly, hiding away together in some heavenly official’s spare guest room. 

Not even yesterday could he have imagined this scenario. Hua Cheng seemed to agree.

“This doesn’t feel real,” Hua Cheng mumbled into his hair. 

“It is,” he replied sleepily.

“Promise?” he asked, his grip on Xie Lian’s shoulder tightening just slightly. Xie Lian smiled.

“I promise,” he whispered, trying not to laugh. “This is real.” 

He felt a kiss pressed to the top of his head.

As he lay here, his eyes drifted to the red bead tied into Hua Cheng’s hair.

“San Lang, what is this?” he asked, giving the bead a little tap. It still looked familiar to him, but he’d never managed to recall why. The ghost king was quiet for a long moment, and Xie Lian almost wondered if he’d actually fallen asleep.

“Gege, I know you beat me when we made those wagers in the gambling den, but can I still ask you for a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Let me tell you about that bead some other time.” 

Xie Lian had to glance up to try and read his expression. It was an unreadable mask, but Xie Lian noted the tension in his jaw. Well, he had told him he could keep his secrets.

“Alright. Tell me whenever you feel ready.” He felt the ghost relax slightly under him.

“Thank you, gege.”

He nestled back in, thinking it was rather comfortable to lay on someone so cool in this warm weather.

Thinking of favors, just a bit ago, Jun Wu had agreed to build him a palace even though he had not a merit to his name and even though he’d racked up a sizable debt from a destructive ascension. When Xie Lian had insisted he find some way to pay for it, Jun Wu had simply told him he’d owe him a favor sometime in the near future. He’d only been a god for a few hours, and already things were going wrong left and right. The debts were compiling.

How appropriate for the god of misfortune. Just how disastrous would everything be a month from now?

He really didn’t know what kind of god he was even supposed to be. He had no followers. A sudden new future was stretched before him that he hadn’t planned for, and he had no idea what shape it would take yet. It was both terrifying and exciting. He knew his life wouldn’t instantly change for the better just because he had ascended—his luck was still shackled after all—and godhood meant a direct invitation to the drama and politics that came with a station in Heaven. 

Even so, it felt like perhaps he had finally managed to atone for his failed past ascensions, at least as much as he was able to. He could actually try to move forward. He could be any kind of god he wanted, and since no one below even remembered his name, maybe it could be a proper fresh start. Hopefully, it wouldn't be the start of a brand new disaster.

Despite his wariness, he was emboldened by one singular and immutable fact. 

No matter what happened next, he wouldn’t have to face any of it alone. Hua Cheng would be right there with him. Even if he fell into the deepest abyss, even if the world finally broke him down one day and made a monster of him, this ghost had already proved that he was never going to abandon him. He didn’t need the support of heaven, or Jun Wu, or an ocean of believers.

Just one person, just this person, by his side was more than enough. He wasn’t afraid of anything.

Hua Cheng stood before the altar table of The Temple of a Thousand Lights. 

He had built this structure a long time ago, before he understood just how long the search for his god would even take. It was always supposed to be a temple for His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince of Xianle, and that’s why the architecture reflected the style of that old kingdom. For those who were well educated in such things, this temple stuck out from the rest of Ghost City for reasons far beyond the dazzling white of its lanterns. 

It was his finest work, architecturally speaking, and yet it had sat here dormant. Mostly empty. Collecting dust. Waiting for its God to appear at last. Hua Cheng wasn’t yet ready to unveil it to His Highness. He needed to clean it up. He needed to make it worthy. 

It needed a statue. 

Hua Cheng was more than competent in the art of sculpture, and he wasn’t half bad as a painter either. In fact, should he have lived a full mortal life and had their country not fallen, he sometimes wondered if he would have stayed a soldier or just become an artist. He had honed his craft over only a decade, after all. He probably would have been very skilled by the age of 30. Of course, he would only have made statues of his God for a living. What else could possibly inspire him so? 

Hua Cheng made his way into an annexed room. He’d been storing something precious in here for some time.

It was a massive block of marble. Special marble. The most expensive marble one could hope to find. It had been waiting for this very day—waiting to take the form of His Highness in all his glory.

Of course, His Highness was a modest soul. He still did not carry himself with much esteem, even having ascended a third time. He would appreciate Hua Cheng making him anything, but he would likely claim that an idol of this size was not necessary for an unknown god. 

He would probably worry about it toppling over in an unfortunate accident.

But that’s why this marble was special. It wasn’t natural. Only his specially crafted tools were tipped with something strong enough to break this marble. This divine statue would never crumble, no matter what kind of bad luck followed his highness.

There were probably many other matters the ghost king should be attending to first, what with Yin Yu on a forced vacation, but this was all Hua Cheng felt up to at the moment. With his God sequestered up in heaven to recuperate, he would have plenty of time. He would carve this statue, and he’d also carve a smaller version as well; a statuette his god could place in a shrine of any size. One he wouldn't think of as being too ostentatious.

Hua Cheng took out his tools and got to work. 

As he worked, Hua Cheng reflected on the last couple days. What an unexpected turn they had taken in such a short time. He’d been forced to reckon with the sheer magnitude of his mistakes. He’d put in all that work, only for it all to be undone over one simple oversight. He never expected Yin Yu to fail him. He had almost ruined the relationship most important to him in the world—his reason for existing—due to his own inability to forgive or move on. In retrospect, his behavior seemed completely mad. How could he put his own selfish wants first? Why did that revenge seem so important at the time?

His Highness finding out should have been a complete disaster. While it certainly hadn’t been good, in the end, Hua Cheng’s luck had held out, and his God had once again proven that he could forgive any transgression. In the span of a few hours, Hua Cheng had somehow gone from complete despair and regret to a kind of happiness so great that he wasn’t even sure how he was supposed to contain it all. 

His God had ascended again. Even more miraculously, his God felt the same.  

Somehow, at some point, he had become his God’s beloved, and he hadn’t even realized it. In a way, it shouldn’t surprise him. After all, he had flirted pretty heavily a number of times without any push-back. Any sensible man who didn’t feel the same would have been offended or disgusted by his actions. 

Not an hour had passed that his thoughts had not drifted back to that moment in He Xuan’s guest room. He could still taste his God on his lips. His Highness, even though he was struggling with the weight of many sudden truths and even though he was still furious with Hua Cheng’s actions, still admitted his feelings. 

Of course, Hua Cheng had never felt so unworthy of anything in his life, especially considering the pain he had no doubt caused him. What could he do, though? He was powerless in the face of His Highness's wishes. His Beloved had chosen him, and Hua Cheng wouldn’t deny him anything that he asked for. Hua Cheng would not question his choices, even if His Highness’s choice was someone as lowly as himself. He would simply be grateful and pray every single day for forgiveness. 

He would make himself better. He would find a way to become the confident man he had been before he found His Highness in that coffin and tore himself to pieces. 

Much like his time in Mount Tonglu, Hua Cheng found himself pulled deeply into his work. His musings faded and there was only the marble. He would remember very little of the actual process by the time he was finished. Time had a way of slipping past him when he practiced this craft. He was so focused on bringing the stone to life and pulling the perfect image of his beloved from it that he went almost into a trance. It was a kind of euphoria—a boundless joy and anguish found in such a direct method of worship. Something tangible in his hands as a sign of his unwavering devotion, his thankfulness, a declaration of love and reverence, a promise of forever. 

Every inch of that marble was treated with the utmost respect. Every curve of his face was perfectly measured and meticulously smoothed, entirely accurate. All that was missing were his shackles, but they were a temporary nuisance at best, and Hua Cheng would soon see them removed. His Highness’s expression was gentle and serene, his pose elegant, and his robes flowing and ethereal. 

And yet this divine statue did not depict the Crown Prince of Xianle. 

To Hua Cheng, His Highness would always be His Highness, but Xie Lian was adamant that this old title was no longer relevant. He saw the person he was back then as a failure, something painful to remember. This statue was not covered in jewelry or an elaborate hair crown. He was dressed not as a prince but as a simple cultivator. Atop his head rested a weather-worn straw hat. The same one given to him in his darkest moment. The same one all the stories of him mentioned. The one he was going to either have to track down or replace.

Despite the changes, this statue was still His God, that same lovely God Hua Cheng had always devoted himself to. In one hand, carefully hidden behind his back, he still carried a sword, and the hand in front still held a flower. 

It was not a blossoming tree branch. It was not a star jasmine. It was a puffy white dandelion.

Most would probably see a statue as grand and large as this and wonder what the point was. Why build such an elaborate and majestic statue depicting such a humble figure? Why was he not holding something like a lotus flower or something more classically symbolic—perhaps one of the Four Noble Gentlemen?

The truth was that, while dandelions were rather unsung in the world of art, they also held a significance of their own. Dandelions were a symbol of resistance. Courage. They could pop up just about anywhere in the world, no matter the harsh conditions—even pushing their way through tediously manicured rock gardens. They seemed to return to a garden no matter how many times they were pulled out and thrown away. A symbol of stubborn willpower. 

Hua Cheng’s beloved was gracious, noble, and pure, and a great number of flowers would suit his altar. And yet, when he had stood in Hua Cheng’s blooming night garden, he’d been drawn not to the peonies but to this determined little weed. The unwanted but resilient survivor. 

Hua Cheng stood back and analyzed his work. It would not compare to the figure he had carved into the side of Mount Tonglu, but it would suit this temple. He thought it suited the man that Xie Lian had grown into over the centuries, and he could only hope that Xie Lian would agree. It suited who he was now. 

This was a God that could endure any horror or cruelty and remain gentle and forgiving. He was not some doormat; he was a man who actually lived by his ideals and stuck to them, even in the face of anger and pain. He was the living embodiment of “Body in the Abyss, but a Heart in Paradise.” He was stronger than all of those in heaven combined, and his selfless heart was the only reason he wasn’t the divine emperor himself by now. 

Hua Cheng walked in a large circle around the statue, looking for any unfinished edges. As he rounded the back, he smiled at the sword, partially hidden by the graceful dance of his long hair. 

His Highness may be a god of forgiveness, but he was still a martial god too. His God believed in justice and would do what was necessary for the greater good. That was not to be forgotten. It was something he hoped those fools in heaven would remember soon. Qi Rong would be finding this out very soon, hopefully.

He nodded to himself as he came full circle. 

Yes. Hua Cheng was pleased with this. 

This special marble had not been wasted. He was glad that he waited until they met again before finding the God within it.

Now, to carve the smaller version. 

Chapter Text

Epilogue

Xie Lian opened the creaky door of his shrine and was greeted by a sunny, clear summer morning. 

A little over a month had passed since the night of his ascension, but he’d only lived here for a few days. This little shack still needed a lot of things fixed, but thankfully, he now had the strength required to work on it.

His first “temple” was very small, shabby, and probably doomed to collapse eventually, but he liked it. It was fitting for a scrap-collecting god of forgiveness and misfortune. He had collected a small group of worshipers from the nearby village by ridding it of a rather dangerous haunting, and their donations had been very helpful in fixing the place up. That and, of course, the hard work of his most devoted worshiper. 

As it turned out, Hua Cheng was a competent carpenter. It really seemed like there was no subject he wasn’t well versed in. Though originally the shack was punched through with many holes, after last night’s rain, not a drop made its way through the ceiling.

Xie Lian was surprised to find that Hua Cheng wasn’t here this morning. Every morning prior, he’d awoken to his shrine’s other attendant sweeping, cooking, or chopping firewood. It felt like such trivial chores should be far beneath someone like a Supreme Ghost King, but he seemed happy to do it. Xie Lian knew, in part, that the ghost was still trying to placate him after all that had occurred a month prior. The new god was happy to let him.

Xie Lian enjoyed cooking, but thus far his worshiper had taken the lead on that and he hadn’t had the chance. He wasn’t too excited at the prospect of introducing the ghost to his, ah, style of cooking, so he’d let him take care of it. Maybe today he’d finally have the chance to cook for himself. He hoped it would be edible for the ghost as well. He set to work, cutting up the last of the vegetable donations. As he settled into this old pastime, his thoughts drifted back to his stay in heaven.

He’d lived first at Ming Yi’s palace and then spent the last few weeks in the palace Jun Wu had built for him. He still wasn’t sure why the Divine Emperor had been willing to pay for it. He hadn't really been thrilled to stay there, but it would do until he had his strength back, and at least he was no longer imposing on the Earth Master. It had come with a small staff, but Xie Lian had dismissed all of them.

He was glad to be gone from there now. He had no interest in living like royalty again, and he really didn’t care for the constant politics. Heaven was flush with rumors about him, especially his ‘dalliances’ with Crimson Rain Sought Flower.

The rumors came in all flavors. Some thought he was a fool being taken advantage of by the trickster. Some thought that Hua Cheng was holding some kind of debt over him. Some thought that due to his years of banishment, he’d simply become a man of lesser morals with zero standards for friendship. Thankfully, Nan Feng and Fu Yao hadn’t let anyone know he’d been working at the gambler’s den, so at least he didn’t have to deal with any blowback from that. 

There were also a few hushed guesses that the two of them were lovers, but most dismissed it as preposterous. Xie Lian had to laugh. They refused to believe the only bit of gossip that was actually true.

These past few days, he’d spent parading around as his own priest, so in a way, he was a bit of a trickster too. He and the ghost king made quite a pair, indeed. The villagers thought Xie Lian was just a humble cultivator in service to an old, relatively unknown god. Hua Cheng had taken to using a different skin while here, bustling around in the guise of a young devotee. This form was just as beautiful as his true one, and it ended up being a major draw for the young women of the village. He probably had Hua Cheng’s magnetic presence to thank for many of his donations. 

Other than his reliance on donations, Xie Lian had gone back to scrap collecting in order to procure most of the basics of survival. Though this cottage was already much improved, it still needed a lot of work to be properly comfortable.

Hua Cheng had offered up many luxurious additions, but Xie Lian refused nearly all of them. He’d accepted a decent mattress to place under the straw bed mats he’d collected, and that was about it. He’d mostly caved because it seemed that they would be sharing a bed, and he wanted the ghost king to be comfortable if he was choosing to stay the night here. 

Hua Cheng had pouted endlessly about him sleeping here instead of the luxurious bed back at Paradise Manor, but Xie Lian wanted to live here so that he could tend to prayers in the village more efficiently. He had lived most of his life sleeping outdoors and in caves, so really, this little shack was already lovely in his eyes. This was more aligned with his humble chosen way of life. That was what he told the ghost king, but it wasn’t the whole truth.

Xie Lian hadn’t forgotten he was still a god of misfortune and he knew Hua Cheng’s luck couldn’t be endless. As such, he still worried his continuous presence within his manor would eventually spell disaster. If this shack collapsed? No big deal. That said, Xie Lian knew that once it started to get chilly out, Hua Cheng would likely become insistent. 

Perhaps when winter arrived, he would split his time between this village and Ghost City. He was apparently growing a small following there as well, though the ghosts more so worshiped both he and Hua Cheng together now that they knew who Xie Lian was.

The stew on his small stove had reached a hard simmer. Xie Lian deposited his vegetables, as well as what little spices he had, and put the lid on. It was nothing like the immaculate fare he had eaten in Heaven, but in its own way, this was better.

He had no intention of returning to heaven unless absolutely necessary. That golden palace in Heaven reminded him too much of all he’d lost, and he didn’t have many friends up there anyhow. Pretty much the only one who was willing to talk to him was the happy-go-lucky Lord Wind Master, but that god was happy to talk to just about anyone. He was the definition of a social butterfly. Xie Lian had appreciated his efforts to be friendly and welcoming, but even the Wind Master wasn’t worth living in that place for long.

During his stay up there, he did have a few very short, relatively awkward conversations with both Feng Xin and Mu Qing. He felt like he’d been pretty normal and neutral around them, but they acted exceedingly strange. He still didn't know if they, or Jun Wu, had ever heard his prayers or not, and he didn’t want to know. It was partly out of hurt feelings—he liked to think they wouldn’t ignore him in his time of need. But a little bit of it was also humiliation. He didn’t remember all those prayers, some uttered in a fit of madness. In retrospect, it was not a good look. 

It was much easier to just assume they had not heard. He hoped their uneasiness had more to do with how they’d left things off all those years ago.

Awkward was okay. At least things between them weren’t openly hostile. 

Mu Qing had a bit of an attitude, but not so much so that Xie Lian felt like he was going to be an enemy or a problem. The two of them had found at least one excuse to check in and talk to him at his palace– his birthday. It was under the pretense of professionalism, but he appreciated the effort.

Feng Xin, miraculously, even forgave the debt he’d accrued from accidentally destroying half the Palace of Nan Yang during his ascension. Apparently, Mu Qing had paid off the ruined bell. He’d made the case that he was the one who cut it in half and that perhaps if it had just fallen, it would have survived in one piece. 

His debt was still sizable, but he still appreciated any bit of help anyone was willing to offer on that front. 

If things with his old friends were awkward, that was nothing compared to his short interactions with Lang Qianqiu. The boy seemed to have no idea how to act now, so he avoided Xie Lian like the plague. He was still left with a large scar on his cheek that not even Heaven’s potent energy could fix. Xie Lian wondered how he might feel about that. 

At one point, Lang Qianqiu had chosen to leave his old sword, Fangxin, on the doorstep of his palace. Xie Lian had mixed feelings about its return, but a sword was a handy thing to have around if he got into a particularly dangerous fight. 

He’d already had to use it once since descending back into the mortal realm. Xie Lian had spent most of his time in heaven cultivating in the ways he still could, trying to get his full strength and reflexes back. He’d begun his training up there and continued it here at his shrine now. Despite many long years out of practice, the sword still felt natural in his hands. He would probably have to use it again soon.

First thing this morning, Jun Wu had sent him a message about returning that favor for rebuilding his palace. He still needed to go up and get all the details from Ling Wen, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He wondered where Hua Cheng had run off to in the night. He hoped the ghost might accompany him.

As his vegetables stewed, Xie Lian took to stretching in the middle of the shrine floor. He’d been meaning to ask Hua Cheng if he would spar with him. A few times, the village children had come to watch him practice. If Hua Cheng joined in, it would probably draw in a crowd of gaggling girls as well. Though he knew they were not competition, this did occasionally rub him the wrong way. Until he met Hua Cheng, he’d never imagined he might be the jealous sort. 

He couldn’t blame them for their interest. This other form of his was similar to the form his clone took, and still dangerously attractive. His outfit was now mundane but still red, and Xie Lian eventually noticed that the red coral bead was always present somewhere. It was always hidden on him, either as jewelry or threaded in his hair, and finding it had almost become kind of a game for Xie Lian. Hua Cheng, now going by Xiao Hua to the villagers, looked a bit younger and shorter and had both his eyes, though of course one was still technically blind. His voice was deeper than you’d expect when he spoke, but not as deep as it was in his true form. Xie Lian had often thought that if you put some armor and a smiling mask on him, he’d probably look a great deal like Wu Ming, though he never voiced this.  

A summer wind kicked up, and the shine around him creaked and almost seemed to sway dangerously just a little bit. The breeze through the window helped cool him off from his exercises. Whenever Hua Cheng wasn’t here with him, a part of him was always wary of this structure collapsing on top of him. That was his usual luck and such things had happened many, many times. His bad luck was just that potent. He was beginning to think that his bad luck was truly neutralized by Hua Cheng. Only Paradise Manor and his Golden Palace had survived his misfortune in all the years since his second banishment. 

Though they hadn’t been able to see each other too much while he was in Heaven, they had spent the past few days together very blissfully. They weren’t fully out of the weeds, but he felt like the ghost king was committed to keeping his word and earning his trust back. Xie Lian really didn’t think he would ever dare pull such a thing again.

His meal finished cooking and Xie Lian ate a bowl of it. As usual, something horrific had occurred between putting the lid on and taking it off. He knew the contents would turn most anyone’s stomach, but he ate it happily. He decided maybe he wouldn’t leave the leftovers for the ghost after all, and promptly hid them. 

After this, he swept out his shrine and cleaned up his altar. He let his eyes gently rest on the statuette Hua Cheng had carved for him. He’d whisked Xie Lian from heaven for a few hours on his birthday and presented him with this beautiful work of art. He was surprised that Hua Cheng even remembered that straw hat after all this time. Xie Lian was really going to have to get a new one of those so he’d match. Then again, the statue was of such a perfect likeness to him, he was probably already in danger of being recognized as the god of this shrine. The hat might make it too obvious.

Eventually, Xie Lian was re-cleaning things he’d already taken care of. He knew he was putting off his trip back to Heaven. He was really hoping to see Hua Cheng before he left. He didn’t have the spare spiritual energy to send him a message, however. He was beginning to grow lonely now. He’d been terribly spoiled, getting to spend all day and night with the ghost during his recovery. Now, whenever they were apart, all he could think about was the next time he’d see him again. He knew the ghost had his own matters to attend to, but it really was unusual for him to just disappear in the night without explanation. He didn’t care for waking up alone anymore.

As the afternoon puttered on, he finally gave in to his own neediness. 

He pulled out the red dice Hua Cheng had given him and tossed them on the altar. 

As if summoned by magic, within a few moments his door opened and in swaggered the ghost king, donning his chipper Xiao Hua disguise. Though Xie Lian preferred his true form, this form was still a feast for the eyes. Today the red coral bead was at the end of a thin braid, which was tied back with the rest of his long ponytail.

"Sorry, gege, I was helping out an employee this morning and it took much longer than I expected,” he said, striding over and planting an apologetic kiss on Xie Lian’s forehead.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt something important,” Xie Lian said, now feeling guilty for having pulled him away.

“Nonsense, he can take care of the rest.”

“Which employee?” Xie Lian asked, genuinely interested.

“Yin Yu.”

“Oh, is he back from his vacation?”

He saw the ghost’s lip curl slightly.

“That’s right. I was getting him back up to speed.”

“I see. Well, I called you because I have to pay back a debt today. I was wondering if you might accompany me.”

“Of course,” the ghost chirped. “But first…” 

He walked over to Xie Lian’s altar. Hua Cheng produced a small white flower and placed it in the statue’s extended hand which had been designed to hold a flower stem in its small grasp. Xie Lian’s heart melted, even though he’d done this every single day since presenting him with the statue.

The ghost smiled, then turned to him.

“Now. What is it you need to do?”

“It’s a bit of a favor for Jun Wu. I never asked for a palace, but he insisted, so this is the least I can do to honor that generosity. I would also accrue some merits in the process, so I can start to pay off some of the damages from my ascension.”

“Gege, I could just pay that debt off.” Hua Cheng said, clicking his tongue.

Xie Lian waved in dismissal.

“It's no problem. Since Feng Xin forgave me what I owed by destroying part of his palace, and Mu Qing paid for the bell, it's much less now.”

He saw the ghost’s eye twitch slightly at the mention of those names. Xie Lian had been reminded that they were two of the gods Hua Cheng had targeted back then. He was glad they’d been smart enough not to take him up on his challenge.

“Besides,” he continued, “this sounds relatively easy. Kind of interesting, even. On Mount Yu Jun, apparently the new bride of someone important went missing the day of their wedding.” 

“I see. This devotee must be important if Jun Wu wants to intervene.”

“It was a sizable offering, apparently.”

“Of course. That’s all most of the heavenly trash cares about.”

“Aha, also, Ling Wen already asked if any other officials wanted to come down and help. I don’t think they know, you know, that you might be coming along.”

“They are not necessary,” Hua Cheng said with deep distaste. 

“I know, but she’s already asked. I doubt anyone would volunteer,” Xie Lian said with a laugh. “I won’t win any popularity contests up there.”

“You know…” Hua Cheng said, now twirling the bead at the end of his ponytail, “they say that that region is also where the Night Touring Green Lantern has been spotted. This might be a good time to catch up with your dear cousin and have a little chat.” 

Xie Lian sighed heavily and walked up to the ghost, staring up into his beautiful face with a stern expression.

“San Lang, our goal today is a bride-snatcher.”

“How about after, then?” the ghost asked, an eyebrow raised. Xie Lian crossed his arms.

“Are you still hellbent on revenge?” 

Hua Cheng stood there, playing innocently with that red bead, his eyes sharp and inscrutable.

“Of course not, gege.”

“You’re incorrigible,” he muttered. 

“You’re not wrong, but I promise I’ll follow gege’s command.” 

“I suppose afterward we can look into it,” Xie Lian relented, shaking his head in defeat. 

“For all we know, the Green Ghost could have snatched up the bride,” Hua Cheng said with deeply fake concern in his voice. “If so, she may be eaten soon. We should hurry.”

“Hmm, maybe. Let's go find out,” Xie Lian said, a smile playing on his lips. “But first, I have to go get all the details from Ling Wen. Just a quick trip up to heaven.” 

The ghost’s put on a sour expression and sighed a little bit dramatically.

“First you call me here, and then you just leave me for Heaven.” 

Xie Lian chuckled, uncrossing his arms and reaching over to take Hua Cheng’s hand.

“Ah, well, I was actually thinking… maybe you could go up there with me? Since you’ll be assisting anyhow?”

Hua Cheng looked positively stunned, his eyes widening in surprise.

“I’m not sure they’d be very happy to see me,” Hua Cheng said, trying not to laugh.

“I know it might cause a bit of controversy, but as long as you behave yourself, I can deal with the consequences. They already know we’re friends.”

Hua Cheng squeezed his hand and then laced their fingers together, taking a little step closer.

“Is there a particular reason you’d like to take a stick up to the hornets nest?” Hua Cheng asked quietly. Despite his apparent caution, Xie Lian could see wild excitement dancing in his dark eyes. 

“Well, the fact of the matter is this: you and I are a package deal. If they want to work with me, they’ll have to also work with you, right?”

The ghost nodded readily in agreement, looking exceptionally smug. Xie Lian continued.

“That place has run wild with speculation, and I… I just want to set the record straight. I don’t want to feel like we’re sneaking around or something. This needn’t be some kind of scandalous thing, and if it must, then I’d rather meet it head-on,” Xie Lian huffed, feeling indignant that he even had to defend his relationship with the ghost. 

Xie Lian understood that Heaven was not especially fond of the Calamity, and vice versa, but they were all just going to have to get over it and compromise. Was this not his job as diplomat to the Ghost Realm anyhow?

“I suppose we could go up there during a meeting, take the stage, and just kiss. That would probably tell them everything they want to know. You wouldn’t have to say a thing,” Hua Cheng suggested.

Xie Lian choked on his next words, feeling himself turn a deep shade of red as he visualized it.

“N-no! Nothing so… so… brazen as that!”

“Ah, gege is embarrassed to be courting a ghost king,” he said with a knowing nod of the head.

“That’s not it either! I’d never feel embarrassed about that! I just… I don’t think I’m the sort who would want to make such an immodest scene! I certainly wouldn’t want to watch someone else kiss either!”

“My God is very shy about such things. It’s okay, I understand.” 

Xie Lian started rubbing at his forehead. 

“Or maybe I just think such displays should be a private matter. It wouldn’t matter who you were; I wouldn’t want to kiss anyone in front of all of heaven. All I want is for them all to know that they don’t get me without you. We’re partners, aren’t we?” 

He saw the ghost’s eyes soften. 

“Of course. As long as gege will have me,” Hua Cheng replied, as he pulled Xie Lian closer by the waist. His smile then turned mischievous. “Are you going to tell them we’re together?” 

Xie Lian felt his face warm.

“I mean… honesty is usually the way to go with such things. We could at least inform Ling Wen about it. I think eventually it will become known either way…” 

Hua Cheng’s cool hand rose up and took Xie Lian’s chin in his grasp, as he leaned in close.

“You know, we could also make bets. How long do you think it would take them to figure it out on their own?” he whispered with a devilish grin. 

Xie Lian was so helpless under that look. He found his arms instinctively curling around Hua Cheng’s middle back.

Of course he’d just said he wanted to avoid that exact scenario; sneaking around, dodging questions, and feeling like he was doing something improper or hiding a scandal. As he thought about it, though, he realized that this could actually be fun for a while. Maybe he should be more like Hua Cheng and embrace a bit of chaos.

“We could keep them guessing,” Xie Lian replied in a conspiratorial tone.

“We could drive them insane.” 

The ghost’s warm breath was ghosting over his lips now, incredibly enticing after a full morning without him around. 

“We could drop little hints here and there, but nothing solid enough to prove anything for certain,” Xie Lian added, a wide smile growing on his face as he considered all the possibilities.

“Mm, or big hints, but only with one person present, so no one will believe them. Like this.” 

Hua Cheng pulled Xie Lian into a sweet, lingering kiss that made Xie Lian’s toes curl in his boots. When Hua Cheng was in this form, Xie Lian didn’t have to get up on his tiptoes to reach him.

“Not in front of Jun Wu,” Xie Lian insisted as he pulled back.

“Very well. That would probably end the game, anyhow.” 

Xie Lian laughed. Why did he feel like he was getting himself pulled into a game he’d soon regret? 

It would probably be much easier to just mention their relationship up front and deal with the consequences instead of letting rumors fester. Still, it was also a terribly awkward and personal thing to proclaim to all of heaven, and this was Hua Cheng giving him a grace period of sorts. 

He didn’t want Hua Cheng to think he was ashamed of their relationship, though. 

The Lord of Ghost City had given him a whole debut before the entire ghostly realm, never hesitating to make it absolutely clear that Xie Lian was precious to him. Xie Lian wouldn’t let his special someone think for a second that he was not just as committed to him in return. If Heaven ever gave him an ‘us or him’ ultimatum, he’d jump down from heaven so fast he’d leave a city-sized crater in the mortal realm below.

“We should set a date. If they haven’t guessed by then, we’ll just put them out of their misery,” Xie Lian insisted. Hua Cheng chuckled. 

“Well, next month is the Zhongyuan Festival, how about a year from then?”

“Alright. Although… making bets would probably just incentivize one of us to be more obvious about it, don’t you think?” Xie Lian said, tilting his head as he considered it.

“Hmm, maybe you make the bet that they will know early on. If gege is shy about showing his affection in public, he will not go out of his way to be obvious.”

“And you’ll bet that they won’t find out within the year?”

“Mn. I’ll take that bet. I do like a challenge.”

“It won’t be easy for you. I think San Lang is very affectionate without realizing it.”

“Perhaps, but I am competitive. What does gege want if he wins?”

“How about a favor again? A big one this time.”

“I’ll wager the same,” Hua Cheng said, a small edge to his voice.

It was actually probably a dangerous thing to give the ghost king. Who knew what kind of nefarious thing he’d ask for now that they were together? He really hoped it wouldn’t be kissing in front of Heaven.

“Are you still coming with me to see Ling Wen?” Xie Lian asked, stepping back a little.

“Of course, gege. I would not miss the opportunity to watch my God speak on my lowly behalf.”

Xie Lian dropped his head into his hands.

“Please, behave.”

“I will if they do.”

“I’m already regretting this. Why was I the one to suggest this again? This is actually a really terrible idea!”

“Don’t worry, Your Highness. I’ll do nothing to tarnish your good name. I promise you won’t regret this.” 

Xie Lian sighed and reached up to tug on Hua Cheng’s little braid.

“I could never regret having San Lang by my side. There’s no reputation left to soil anyhow. It doesn’t matter how they react, as long as they don’t try to threaten you. I’m already considered an infamous weirdo, so I should just lean into it.”

“My God, if you only knew the hell I would rain upon them if you’d only ask.” 

Xie Lian raised his eyebrows. 

Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.

“I’ll never ask that,” Xie Lian said shortly, with a hint of steel in his voice.

“I know, my love. But the offer is always on the table. You are better than any of those merit-grubbing rats. They should show you proper respect.” 

Xie Lian just smiled and shook his head. He didn't want to encourage him.

“Come on. Let's try to get through this without a major incident.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The Ghost King then shape-shifted, his body stretching into a much taller form. Bold red robes with silver finery. Long, unruly black hair. A black eyepatch and silver vambraces. The most feared man in heaven. The god’s heart skipped a beat, seeing the true shape of his beloved one before him again.

Xie Lian took his hand again, smiling warmly. Hua Cheng squeezed it tight, reaching to pull his dice back out. Then, suddenly an odd look flashed across his face and he hesitated.

“Are you sure about this, gege? I shouldn’t have pressured you earlier. You don’t have to take me up if you think you’d be drawing a line in the sand.”

“I want you to come with me.”

“You promise you aren’t just humoring me now?”

“I promise, I’m not. This was my idea, remember?”

“Alright. No regrets, then.”

Xie Lian looked up at him happily.

“I’ve regretted many things in my life, San Lang, but I’ll never regret you.”

The ghost seemed momentarily lost for words. Instead of thinking up a witty reply, he just grinned.

Then, hand in hand, the god and his ghost king made their way up to Heaven.

Chapter Text

This update is for any super early readers of NFNF who don't follow me elsewhere and who were otherwise unaware that this story has continued.

If this is news to you, you may also not know there are 4 extra bonus chapters in-between as well. Check the Series that 'Never Forget, Never Forgive' is in: '(NFNF) Coffin Rescue AU.' 

The first chapter of the sequel 'Paper Memories (Part One)' has been posted and will be posting weekly.