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When it comes down to it, Shi Qingxuan is actually pretty good at being a beggar!
Being poor had never seemed like something in the realm of possibility growing up, especially after he became a god, so it was something he had perhaps subconsciously feared. But, in reality, it’s actually not so bad! He has good company, fewer responsibilities, none of the weird politics that happened in the Heavenly Capital – he misses the fancy feasts and the ability to dress up whenever he’d wanted, but all in all, it’s not a bad lot in life.
He’s better off than most other beggars, he quickly realizes after a few years in the mortal realm. There are many who have been shunned from society not because of their lack of wealth or status, but simply because of their looks or physical abilities. Shi Qingxuan therefore finds himself spending a lot of his free time helping others – those who can’t walk, children who’ve been abandoned because of a deformity, the list goes on and on. He himself has a lame leg and arm, but his face still retains its beauty, and between that and help from his few friends in the heavenly realm, he can concentrate on helping other people instead of getting absorbed in his own problems.
It’s just another day when Shi Qingxuan comes across a young man covered in sores. He nearly smells him before he sees him; the scent of rotting flesh is pungent, and it causes gooseflesh to rise on his arms. Still, Shi Qingxuan hobbles over and kneels down next to the man. There’s an iron rod nearby, likely a crutch, but he’s in no shape to use it now. Shi Qingxuan barely even touches the man’s forehead before quickly pulling away, a fever more than evident.
“Can you speak?” Shi Qingxuan asks, but the young man doesn’t answer. He’s barely conscious, panting as if he’s just collapsed from a marathon. Shi Qingxuan takes this as his answer instead, and he heaves the beggar onto his back. Despite being mortal and the setbacks with his previous injuries, he’s managed to stay pretty strong, which is (no pun intended) a godsend, as it makes the literal haul back to his shelter a much easier one. He can’t run anymore, but he’s strong enough to carry this man, who’s been reduced to skin and bones, for a few streets.
Shi Qingxuan immediately lays the man down on a mat when he arrives at his tiny shack, then rushes over to fetch water, as well as medicine from inside the rotted-wood cabinets. Upon closer inspection, his wounds don’t look too serious, but they’re at a critical point – untreated, they’ll become more infected, and this poor man won’t stand much of a chance.
As Shi Qingxuan gently massages medicinal cream into the festering wounds, the young man flinches, his chapped lips cracking. The next thing to do is to get this poor guy some water, clearly!
And Shi Qingxuan does just that. Only a little at a time, of course – he doesn’t want to drown the guy – and after about an hour, the stranger finally regains consciousness briefly.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe!” Shi Qingxuan immediately assures him. “I found you on the side of the road – er, but, I won’t ask! It’s not my business!”
Leaning over the young man, he places a cool washcloth to his head.
“Your fever should go down soon,” he continues, “once we get these wounds looking better, hm? You just rest here. I’ll get some food as soon as I can!”
The man’s eyes are surprisingly clear despite the otherwise apparent lack of lucidity, and he slowly closes them again, his head lolling to the side as he slips into sleep.
***
Shi Qingxuan spends the next week tending to the young man. His wounds, as suspected, are nothing too serious; the worst of his troubles seem to be more related to emaciation. Once the fever subsides, he’s able to sit upright and eat solid foods again.
“Thank you,” he says on the sixth day, his eyes bright. He looks younger than he did at their first meeting, but his visage still holds something unique to it, something that shows he’s been through a lot even in his short lifetime.
“It’s no problem at all!” Shi Qingxuan replies, grinning. “I’m glad we had such a chance meeting! And just in time, too!”
The young man nods once.
“Truly, Shi Qingxuan. Truly.”
In the next moment, the entire room fills with bright, white light, and Shi Qingxuan hears the distant sound of what sounds like rumbling thunder.
He recognizes the sensation immediately, despite how long it’s been. His entire body feels alight, and his vision blurs as he feels himself be pulled elsewhere, into cleaner air and colder winds.
When his vision returns to him, Shi Qingxuan is standing in the middle of the Heavenly Capital, and all eyes in the vicinity are turned on him.
“... … …”
He can only stare ahead dumbly, completely baffled by this turn of events. Why is he back here? And more important, how on earth did he manage to ascend again?!
***
“So, you’re saying that the man I helped was actually – “
“A newly ascended Heavenly Official, yes,” Ling Wen tells Shi Qingxuan. “Li Tieguai. He’s quite eccentric, as you may have discerned.”
“I barely spoke with him,” Shi Qingxuan admits, trying his best to ignore the blatant stares from passersby in Ling Wen’s massive office. Despite her previous transgressions, she still managed to keep the same desk and room, but there’s certainly more paperwork than there ever was before. (Shi Qingxuan wonders if that won’t just encourage her to act up again.)
“Well, what’s done is done.” Ling Wen lowers her gaze to the document in front of her, then sighs. “Still, it’s quite a title you’ve gained for yourself. ‘God of Poverty’ doesn’t have quite the same ring to it as ‘Wind Master.’ Though I suppose your first ascension was hardly normal, either. Have you ever even had a normal Heavenly Tribulation…?”
Shi Qingxuan lets out a long, heavy sigh. Of course this would happen. His luck did get turned on its head, after all. Of course , just when he was really enjoying his life in the mortal realm, he would get yanked back up into heaven.
Still, based on everything Ling Wen had told him so far, the previous gods of poverty did not tend to linger in the heavenly realm; it was not that they couldn’t, but that everyone around them treated them poorly, and the mortal realm was an easier place to lie low. So, maybe it wouldn’t be too different. Maybe Shi Qingxuan could still be Ol’ Feng, just with more responsibilities and newly-given immortality. He had grown comfortable in the mortal realm, so it felt like a shame to abandon it so soon.
So, when Ling Wen offers him a place of residence in the Heavenly Capital, Shi Qingxuan politely declines, and after a bit more back-and-forth and needless formalities (and paperwork), he returns to the mortal realm with only a new set of robes in tow.
***
Indeed, being immortal again isn’t too different from before. Sure, his pain tolerance is extremely high again, and having spiritual energy means any injuries from before are healed in a jiffy, but all in all, Shi Qingxuan has barely changed. His friends are going to notice the lack of a limp, but he’ll come up with some excuse. Really, it’s not a bad deal!
Another convenient part of this is that he can keep his shack for now. After all, who’s going to want to build a temple for the God of Poverty? Most of the prayers he’s going to get are just people begging him to stay away, which is easy. It’s practically the best of both worlds!
When Shi Qingxuan returns home, he sees a small basket on his doorstep. There’s a little blanket covering the top of it; when he lifts it, he sees some of his favorite sweets inside, as well as a folding fan. He opens it, and a pale green silk greets him, with shimmering golden calligraphy that reads,
Give away to the poor, rob the God of Wealth.
The calligraphy is beautiful, and the silk is incredibly high quality. Shi Qingxuan loves fans, even while no longer being the Wind Master, so it’s clearly a thoughtful gift, but the second half of that phrase gives him pause.
In the past, the God of Wealth was Shi Wudu, his elder brother.
It’s been a few years since Shi Wudu’s death, and Shi Qingxuan has had a lot of free time to reflect on what happened, and why, and where everything went wrong. As painful as it is to admit, his brother’s hubris had been the cause of his downfall, and Shi Qingxuan, the catalyst. All logic points to Shi Wudu as the perpetrator, and his death was simply the consequences of heinous actions long ago.
Still, that was his brother. His brother, whom he had known his entire life. It would be a lie to say he didn’t miss him, he didn’t want to talk to him again one more time, he didn’t want to go back to the times when he knew nothing was amiss.
Yet, at the same time, Shi Qingxuan could not blame He Xuan for his actions entirely, either.
Regardless, it was all said and done now, a story in the distant past, and Shi Qingxuan’s newest ascension has no connection to either Shi Wudu or He Xuan. He is just the God of Poverty now, and that’s all. A new Wind Master will ascend sooner or later, and with that, his previous life will fade even more quickly. He doesn’t even know who the current God of Wealth might be, or if there even is one.
So, Shi Qingxuan keeps the fan, stealing one last look at the elegant calligraphy before closing it and tucking it into his belt.
Before he can duck inside to enjoy his little treats, though, a familiar voice rings out.
“Ol’ Feng! There you are!”
“Hahaha, it’s me!” Shi Qingxuan chuckles awkwardly, putting the blanket back over the basket. “Were you needing something, Yi-ge?”
Yi-ge had been Shi Qingxuan’s spirited neighbor ever since moving into the abandoned shack; he’s old, likely in his sixties or even seventies, but his demeanor is more akin to that of a teenager.
“Oh, looks like they found you anyway,” Yi-ge says, glancing at the basket in Shi Qingxuan’s arms.
“They?” he echoes.
“Mm, a young man came looking for you earlier.” Yi-ge strokes his beard, glancing up at the sky. “Maybe two or three shichen ago? I told him you were out, but I suppose he must’ve just left that gift for you.”
There hadn’t been a note, but Shi Qingxuan can think of only one person who would be so kind as to send him a gift, and so quickly after his latest ascension.
Then, to Puqi I go!
***
While Shi Qingxuan has never outright disliked Hua Cheng (only holding a healthy amount of fear and a bit of respect for him), he does wish that, occasionally, he would leave him and Xie Lian to their own devices, like the good old days. Two’s company, three’s a crowd – it leaves Hua Cheng staring at Shi Qingxuan, inspecting him as he tries to keep his focus on speaking with Xie Lian.
“Yes, I couldn’t believe it when I heard the news,” the man is saying, brewing what will probably be a mediocre burnt cup of tea. “You absolutely deserve to ascend again, but what a strange reason…!”
“Oh no, if anything I feel more kinship with you than ever before!” Shi Qingxuan laughs. “After all, the logical progression from a scrap-collector god is a god of poverty! You’re practically my qianbei in all this, ha ha ha!”
“I can think of no one better to carry the torch, then,” Xie Lian chuckles, setting the tray down in front of them. Yep, the leaves are definitely burnt.
“Is that why you left me those gifts?” Shi Qingxuan’s smile broadens as he continues, “There’s really no need – “
“Sorry to interrupt, but what gifts?” Xie Lian asks, tilting his head as he pours Shi Qingxuan a cup and passes it to him. His brow is furrowed in obvious confusion, and Shi Qingxuan feels his own expression change to match.
“Someone left a basket of pastries and this fan for me on my porch.” Shi Qingxuan reaches into his belt and slides the fan across the table. Both Xie Lian and Hua Cheng stare at it. “Was it not you? They didn’t leave a note, so I had assumed…”
“No, I didn’t – whoever it was beat me to it!” Xie Lian exclaims. “I had only just learned of your reascension a couple of shichen before you arrived today.” He picks up the fan and delicately unfolds it. Shi Qingxuan’s heart can’t help but grow warm seeing its design again. “This is very beautiful, though. It must be someone from the Heavenly Capital, right? At the very least, it’s definitely someone who knows you like fans.”
“That was probably most everyone there, but I think very few of them would send such a nice gift,” Shi Qingxuan muses, placing his elbows on the table as he leans forward toward the pair. Hua Cheng’s single visible eye is scouring the fan, as if looking for a secret hidden away in the folds.
“Hmm, I suppose that’s true, but you underestimate yourself! You’re very well-liked, even to this day! And maybe it was from the god that you saved in the first place,” Xie Lian goes on.
“Li Tieguai, you mean? But would they have such brilliant calligraphy?” Shi Qingxuan wonders aloud, and Hua Cheng’s mouth curls at the ends.
“This isn’t Gege’s handwriting,” he announces, and Shi Qingxuan resists rolling his eyes. Did Xie Lian not just say that exact thing? “I recognize it.”
“You do?” Both Shi Qingxuan and Xie Lian stare up at Hua Cheng, whose devilish smirk only becomes more pronounced. Shi Qingxuan huffs, “Then whose is it?!”
“...San Lang, could it be…?” Xie Lian murmurs, and suddenly Shi Qingxuan goes cold, then much too warm.
“That’s impossible,” he says at the same time Hua Cheng nods. “No, you’re wrong – there’s no reason – “
“Black Water Sinking Ships has excellent calligraphy,” Hua Cheng tells them. “Have you never seen it before?”
Shi Qingxuan genuinely can’t remember. It’s honestly just too disheartening to try to remember his days with “Ming Yi,” so he definitely can’t recall small details like handwriting or brush strokes. But, as uncomfortable as the feeling is, he does believe Hua Cheng without too much prodding. He Xuan was, after all, a scholar in life.
It would also make the message on the fan make sense.
Shi Qingxuan goes cold again. No wonder all of the snacks in that basket were amongst his favorites – only He Xuan would’ve known.
“...Why would he,” he mumbles as Xie Lian closes the fan and slides it back. “Doesn’t he hate me? Maybe it’s a taunt…?”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Hua Cheng suggests, cheeky as ever.
“Now, now,” Xie Lian says, patting Hua Cheng’s arm in admonishment. “Maybe he wants to talk with you, but he doesn’t know how.”
Ming Yi had never been that awkward, but that had been because he avoided nearly all human contact whenever possible. He Xuan, however, might be another story.
Then again, Shi Qingxuan barely even knows He Xuan, just his malice and vengeance.
Though, no, that’s not entirely true, he realizes as the three of them sit in companionable silence. He Xuan, when he appeared disguised as Hua Cheng, had shown himself to be an ally at that time. Maybe he’s a little more complicated than Shi Qingxuan gives him credit for.
“Why would he want to?” Shi Qingxuan whispers, pursing his lips. He takes the fan into his hands again, opening it. The brush strokes are careful but artistic, obviously done with care. Why would he bother? Why go this far?
“Since he came once before, maybe he’ll come back,” Xie Lian suggests, and Shi Qingxuan shrugs a little.
“I think…for now, I’m just…” He shakes his head, snapping the fan shut. “I’m going to just. Ignore him for a bit. Not to be mean, or anything like that. I just… don’t know what I’m supposed to do or say.”
“That’s very fair. You have other things to worry about now that you’re newly ascended again,” Xie Lian reassures him, and he sighs, sitting up straight again at last.
“In that case, you two will just have to keep me company for the rest of the day!”
***
Over the next six months, Shi Qingxuan falls into a rhythm. He spends most of his time in the mortal realm at his shack, save for weekly meetings and check-ins with Ling Wen, and he occasionally drops in at Puqi to see Xie Lian (and Hua Cheng too, inevitably).
He Xuan doesn’t show up again.
***
One morning, when the morning grass is frosted and Shi Qingxuan can see his own breath, he ascends to the Heavenly Capital as usual. He’s used to how people always whisper to each other upon his arrival, but he can’t help but notice that the whispers seem more frantic this time, and he wonders what kind of drama has happened while he was away. Unlike before, he doesn’t really spend too much time in the communication arrays; his spiritual power isn’t as plentiful, so he can’t really afford it.
Ling Wen’s office is bustling, as usual, and he smiles at each and every official he sees. They normally either nod back in greeting or ignore him, but today, they stare in wonder, their hurried steps slowing as he passes.
Uh oh , he thinks faintly when he reaches Ling Wen’s desk. She, out of everyone, is the only one with a normal reaction to his arrival.
“Oh, that time already?” she asks, and Shi Qingxuan laughs lightly.
“Indeed, this past week has flown by, hasn’t it? The leaves are already changing.”
“Hm.” She straightens up a small stack of papers on her desk, then continues, “I would imagine you’ve been quite busy, what with the new temple. Congratulations, by the way. I believe this is the first time we’ve ever had a temple for the God of Poverty.”
Shi Qingxuan laughs again.
“What temple?” he says. “I still just live in my little house. No address change or anything.”
“Yes, there’s been no change of address in my records, too,” Ling Wen tells him, “but did you not recently erect a temple?”
“No – why would I?”
Ling Wen stares at him, a slight frown on her face. She doesn’t normally look outwardly concerned, especially these days, but she is most definitely confused. That makes two of them.
“...A temple in your name has been erected, not too far from the outskirts of the city you live in now,” Ling Wen says slowly, articulating each word. “You have…nothing to do with it?”
“Nothing!” Shi Qingxuan insists. “Who on earth would think to build me a temple?!”
“We assumed it was your own effort – doing so makes it easier for prayers to be streamlined, as you know, and merits come in more quickly. I had thought you were going to fall into your old habit of doling out merits again.” Ling Wen eyes him. “...You really have nothing to do with this?”
“Nothing!” he shouts again.
“...We’ll investigate further.” Ling Wen hands him the stack of documents. “Regardless, these need to be filled out and turned in next week. I trust you remember how this works? The location of your temple is listed, so I suggest going to take a look yourself.”
I didn’t even ask for this! Shi Qingxuan thinks desperately, but he finds himself nodding anyway. It’s not worth getting into an argument over it. Honestly, at this point, he’s mostly just confused.
Seriously, who has anything to gain by erecting a temple for the God of Poverty?!
***
Shi Qingxuan has no idea what exactly to expect out of this new temple. In the past, when people had erected places of worship for him, they had coincided with those for his brother, and the motifs and statues were focused on them as a duo more often than not. Sure, there were some temples that celebrated just the Wind Master, but they were few and far between.
If he’s being honest with himself, he’s a little bit excited.
Part of that might just be because he has an excuse to wear a disguise again. It’s been far too long since he’s really been able to enjoy his female form. Wearing feminine robes and doing his hair feels more comforting than he realizes, and while it’s not the entirety of his identity, it’s certainly an important part of it. Not having access to that was, in a strange way, exhausting.
Now, though, he doesn’t indulge in the frivolities he normally would in his feminine form. He wants to blend in, after all, and visiting the God of Poverty’s place of worship draped in fine silks might not be the best idea. (Next time, he’ll go even more overboard as a reward for holding back this time around.)
His hair is still tied up, revealing the slender and pale nape of his neck, but the robes are itchy hemp and undecorated. One glance and anyone would assume he worked in the rice fields on the regular. Still, his face is charming as ever – his soft, plump lips and round, warm eyes remain the same as they always have in his female form, and he refuses to change them now. He’s already making a lot of sacrifices today, okay?!
Thankfully, the temple isn’t as bustling as his old ones used to be. There are a few people coming and going, and they’re all dressed like him – beggars and peasants, the people who are always pleading with him to stay away. He’ll hear their prayers later.
For now, he’s enveloped in the scent of jasmine, and the allure pulls him closer to the main hall.
It’s surprisingly beautiful, for a temple meant for a god of misfortune. Instead of gold there is brass, and instead of jade there is stone, but it is still incredibly well-meaning and well-built. The wood is polished, and there’s not a speck of dust. Yes, the temple is new, but someone is also clearly maintaining it with vigilance.
Maybe the same people who built it ? Shi Qingxuan wonders as he slowly approaches the altar. It’s the most luxurious part of the temple, if it can even be called such, and there is incense burning atop it. He lights another stick without a word.
Shi Qingxuan then kneels and begins to pray.
Or, at least, he pretends to; he’s hoping that by lingering, he can at least meet one of the caretakers and figure it out from there. He wishes he had Xie Lian’s help for this today – that guy is always so good at piecing things together. Shi Qingxuan isn’t so clever.
After kneeling for a few minutes with his eyes closed, Shi Qingxuan senses a presence nearby. They kneel beside him soundlessly, but he can tell they’re there from his senses as a cultivator. He counts to 100, and the person hasn’t moved, so he finally opens his eyes and pretends to startle at the presence beside him.
It’s a young man with hair gathered atop his head, pulled back into a severe bun. His robes are plain but well-kept, in unfaded dark greys and blacks. While his eyes are intense, he has a kind smile, and he seems a bit amused at Shi Qingxuan’s feigned surprise. The corners of his lips curl briefly before returning to a more neutral expression.
“I apologize for startling you,” the man says, his voice rich and smooth as silk.
“Oh, it’s nothing, nothing!” Shi Qingxuan insists, waving his hand.
“I am the caretaker of this temple, but I have not seen you here before. Yet you were so deeply engaged in prayer, this one admired your piety.”
Shi Qingxuan lets out a tinkling little laugh. If only he knew! This poor man has been thoroughly duped!
“I only just heard from the jiejie down the street that there was a newly erected temple here,” he says bashfully. “I thought a visit would help further ensure our safety.”
“Your safety?” the priest echoes. Ah. Shi Qingxuan wasn’t expecting him to engage like this, so he spits out the first lie he can think of.
“Yes, my husband and I have just learned I am with child,” he says slowly. He’s a notoriously terrible liar, so he really has to watch what he says here! “It is our first, and we are but poor farmers. We are concerned that the recent economy in the city will affect our fortunes, so while my husband prays to the gods for harvest, I decided to pray here to ward off misfortune.”
The priest stares at him for a moment, and for a few long seconds, Shi Qingxuan wonders if he’s been seen through, but then the man’s small smile.
“I see. Congratulations,” the priest murmurs, his gaze nearly unblinking in its intensity.
Who is this guy? Is he a Middle Court official that became a fan of Shi Qingxuan or something? Or, if he is human, is he just a weirdo rejected by society? …Actually, that would probably be the more likely option, considering whose temple this is.
“But, did you know, the god worshiped at this temple is not only responsible for poverty?” the priest then states, his smile almost playful.
“Is that so?” Shi Qingxuan laughs, nervous. As far as he knows, he’s the God of Poverty, and that’s it! No more Wind Master business here, no sir!
“Perhaps you don’t know, since you’re so young, but the god of this temple here used to be an Elemental Master.”
Nooooo! It’s over now! Please, I don’t want anything to do with all that anymore!
“It’s been some time since they were stripped of their powers, yet they managed to ascend again,” the priest continues over the shouting in Shi Qingxuan’s head. His tone is measured and calm, almost like he’s reciting a story or piece of poetry. “People say that they ascended due to not their poor luck, but the strength of their character and heart.”
Oh. This is new. Shi Qingxuan blinks rapidly, then gives a small nod to show he’s still listening. He can feel the creep of cold sweat on the back of his neck, and his stomach turns.
“That is why, at this temple, we do not just refer to this god as a god of misfortune – but instead, they are the god of perseverance and resilience.”
The priest smiles again, more broadly this time, then nods toward the courtyard.
“In the spring, return here and see the plum blossoms for yourself,” he says softly. “They are proof of this god’s other identity. And, if you look up…”
The priest looks toward the rafters, and Shi Qingxuan does the same; there, over the exit, is a phoenix carved into deep, smooth wood. There’s nothing else said, but Shi Qingxuan understands what he intends to say: the god here was reborn into something just as powerful and meaningful.
“Ah,” Shi Qingxuan breathes, an emotion he can’t describe tugging at his throat. “...I see. Thank you for sharing with me.”
The priest returns his gaze briefly before inclining his head and rising to his feet. At the altar, the jasmine incense is still burning, but when Shi Qingxuan gets up and turns away, he could swear he smells the scent of the ocean.
***
So, okay. Shi Qingxuan isn’t the brightest, but he recognizes who built that temple. He’s not so stupid as to not piece together all the evidence before him. No one else would’ve done this for him.
Even the priest was probably by design, perhaps one of He Xuan’s clones, or even He Xuan himself.
The question is, why ?
As Shi Qingxuan lies in his cot that evening, he stares at the wall with his brows scrunched and fists clenched in his blanket.
Why would He Xuan build him a temple?
After the incident a few years ago, when He Xuan appeared in disguise as Hua Cheng, Shi Qingxuan figured that maybe He Xuan’s hatred for him no longer ran as deeply as it once had. Which is good! Great, even! They were on the same side, and that’s what mattered!
Still, they aren’t friends. (The idea that they maybe never had been briefly pushes to the forefront of his mind, then is promptly stifled.)
So if He Xuan wants to sabotage him, it would contradict his actions back then. Then again, he could’ve changed his mind. Maybe after reflecting on it for all these years, he’s decided that, yeah, Shi Qingxuan is the Absolute Worst and needs to be taken down, humiliated, and given a fate worse than death, for real this time.
(He considers how losing “Ming Yi” and his brother was already more than enough. That thought is also immediately stifled.)
Okay, so if He Xuan perhaps doesn’t want to hurt him, then why would he build a temple? And not just build a temple, but build a temple and proclaim him as a god of perseverance?
It hits Shi Qingxuan like a spiritual blast – is this, perhaps, an attempt at an apology?
The thought makes him laugh out loud. In all his time knowing He Xuan, even when he went by a different name, he was never apt at expressing himself. When he did express himself, it was through actions, not words.
This is, admittedly, kind of his style.
Or, maybe he wants to apologize, but also doesn’t want to contact him anymore. Maybe this is his way of penance. Shi Qingxuan can see that, too. Getting him started off on the right foot after taking his powers away and then sending him off without another word.
But from Shi Qingxuan’s perspective, He Xuan doesn’t owe him anything .
Yes, of course he was upset with He Xuan for killing his brother. He still is, to some degree, but he doesn’t hate him. He never could. Had their places been switched, he might’ve done the same, if not worse. He Xuan was well within his right to be angry and full of resentment. He still is.
So maybe, He Xuan wants to put an end to the conflict altogether, to call it even instead.
But Shi Qingxuan can’t accept that. This is too much, way too much more than “even.” He can’t just take all of this without some kind of thanks.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Shi Qingxuan turns over onto his back. Is there anything He Xuan needs?
…Well, maybe that’s the wrong question.
Is there anything he needs help with? Or wants?
Something tickles the back of Shi Qingxuan’s brain, and he recalls a previous conversation with Hua Cheng and Xie Lian nearly three years ago. Hua Cheng had off-handedly mentioned that He Xuan owed him a fair amount of money for various things over the years. He might be in even more debt after building that temple.
The thought twists Shi Qingxuan’s stomach a bit. He doesn’t want He Xuan to owe him anything, or the other way around.
(Why that is, he can explore at a later date.)
For now, he resolves to contact Xie Lian in the morning and confirm the details of this debt. Maybe, just maybe, it’s something he can help with, as a proper way to say thank you for all of this unprompted kindness.
***
“Oh… That’s…that’s a lot of zeroes,” Shi Qingxuan stammers as he looks down at the calculation written before him. He’s never been a superstar at math, but he’s smart enough to know that Hua Cheng’s calculations make sense. It’s just –
“How did he manage to get himself into this much debt?!” Even Xie Lian sounds like he’s in disbelief as he rubs his forehead, eyes wide.
“It wasn’t cheap to be a spy, y’know,” Hua Cheng tells him. “Hundreds of years of sucking up to Heavenly Officials cost him a lot of money that he didn’t have.”
Shi Qingxuan’s stomach tightens; he’s definitely responsible for goading “Ming Yi” into picking some rather expensive gifts for holidays and the like.
“He also spends a lot keeping all those bone fish fat and happy,” the Ghost King continues languidly, seemingly carrying no empathy for He Xuan’s plight. “Food’s not cheap. For both him and his pets.”
“Doesn’t he cook sometimes? Surely he’s not eating out at every chance he gets,” Shi Qingxuan insists.
“He does, but don’t you remember how much He Xuan can eat?”
That’s true , Shi Qingxuan reminds himself. As Ming Yi, he would eat massive meals, often hiding away from others to enjoy food on his own. Apparently that habit has continued, for whatever reason. Shi Qingxuan wonders if it has to do with his time as a mortal.
“...Okay, I get it,” he sighs, hands on his hips. “How does he usually go about repaying these debts?”
“Hm, there are a few options.” An impish smile appears on Hua Cheng’s face, and Shi Qingxuan glances at Xie Lian, who seems to still be reeling over the amount of debt He Xuan has. “Money, of course, is the most obvious, but sometimes he brings me treasures – things that wash up from ships that he’s sunk, priceless items and the like. I can also settle some of it with favors.”
“Favors?” Shi Qingxuan echoes.
“Oh, you know what I mean.”
“I do?”
Despite having only one visible eye, Hua Cheng’s gaze becomes piercing.
“Giving some people a hard time, causing some mild mischief. It’s not so bad.”
Shi Qingxuan thinks back to the last few years and Hua Cheng’s general disdain for nearly everyone in the Heavenly Capital. He’s not sure he should take him up on those particular offers, unless they’re just harmless pranks.
The problem is, he’s a god of misfortune – the God of Poverty. How, exactly, is he supposed to earn money? He earns some from the temple, of course, and he can convert merits into something of value as well, but it’s not going to be an easy task.
Shi Qingxuan then remembers what was said at his temple, that he is also the god of perseverance. While that could be a new marketing strategy to help with paying off this debt, it’s more than just that. He can deal with this hardship. What is it really, amongst all he’s already endured?
“...You promise not to tell him?” Shi Qingxuan says quietly, but his tone is serious enough that Hua Cheng raises his eyebrows.
“He’s going to figure out that someone is helping him eventually.”
“That’s fine if he figures it out on his own.” Shi Qingxuan shakes his head. “Hopefully, by then, I’ll have a good chunk of it gone.”
Hua Cheng snorts, but Xie Lian claps his hands and closes his eyes.
“I’ll be sure to send as many people your way as I can!” he declares. He opens one eye coyly, then adds, “A god of both misfortune and determination… somehow, it suits you well.”
***
By the time Shi Qingxuan has paid off half of He Xuan’s debt, Shangyuan Jie has already passed. It hasn’t been easy, but with a little rebranding and creativity, Shi Qingxuan’s reputation amongst the populace has improved.
(For most, at least. There is the stray prayer here and there for bringing down misfortune on a wicked aristocrat, and if they happen to be answered, well, the money and valuables lost are going to a good cause.)
He doesn’t visit his temple again, but on the first visit to heaven after Shangyuan, Ling Wen greets him with an incredulous expression.
“A second temple?” she says, and Shi Qingxuan purses his lips.
“I didn’t build it,” he replies quickly.
“...I believe you, but forgive my reaction. It’s simply…an anomaly.”
Isn’t this whole situation strange?! he wants to shout, but he simply takes the documents Ling Wen hands him and leaves without another word. He decides to fill them out while relaxing near one of the many waterfalls on the edge of the capital; he’s finished by evening, and he turns them in with a small smile on his face.
“Have you met the believer responsible for these temples yet?” Ling Wen asks him as she flips through each page to make sure they’ve been properly filled out.
“Not yet,” Shi Qingxuan answers. “Though I think it’s become a matter of the utmost importance.”
“Hmm.” Ling Wen stares at him, clearly searching for a hint as to what in the three realms is happening here, but Shi Qingxuan simply shrugs and bids her farewell.
***
Two weeks later, and Shi Qingxuan has more prayers coming in than he can believe. The ones begging him to stay away are still plentiful, but there are more and more worshipers asking for something else – perseverance to survive an illness, resilience to continue working as a merchant, determination to pursue the love of their life. And he bestows as much power as he can upon them, sending nearly all rewards reaped directly to Hua Cheng, leaving only enough for him to get by on what little he’s learned he really needs.
One cold spring morning, Shi Qingxuan receives a hurried knock on his door. He assumes it must be Yi-ge; now that it’s getting closer to warm weather, the old man has recruited him to help in his garden, and who is he to say no?
He pulls the door open, but the person standing on the other side isn’t Yi-ge. In fact, it’s not any of his friends in the city. It’s a face he knows well, yet somehow almost doesn’t recognize at first.
“Shi Qingxuan,” He Xuan says, his voice low and teeth gritted. “Why are you paying off my debt.”
“Long time no see,” Shi Qingxuan responds, trying to keep his cool. His mind is on the edge of panic, but he refuses to show weakness right now. Especially when he’s been waiting for so long to have a proper conversation with this man. Hell, even just seeing him around would’ve been nice. If the atmosphere weren’t so tense, he might start crying.
“Answer my question.”
“Is it really such a sin?” Shi Qingxuan places his hands on his hips and adds, “Is your pride really so great that you can’t accept help with such a massive debt, hm? Should I have only tried to lower the interest rate instead?”
“You – “ He Xuan snaps his jaw shut, then grumbles, “It was not any of your business.”
“Neither was you building me a temple, yet here we are.”
He Xuan goes rigid, and Shi Qingxuan sighs deeply.
“Did you build the second one, too?” When there is no response, he continues, “See, if anyone should be asking questions here, it should be me. But for the record, I’ve been helping with your debt because you clearly spent a lot of time and energy and money into building me a temple, and now two , so I wanted to thank you.”
“...I owe you,” He Xuan murmurs, closing his eyes. “I owe you, so that is why I built the temples.”
“Did you owe me so deeply that you also felt the need to rebrand me? As the ‘God of Perseverance’?”
There is no response, but the silence is telling.
“He Xuan.” Despite calling his name, He Xuan refuses to make eye contact. Shi Qingxuan tries another method. “He-gongzi.” Still, nothing. The conversation can not stop here. “He- xiong .”
A wince, then a tentative glance upward. He’ll take it.
“I have something to say to you, that I should’ve told you the last time we met in the capital city,” Shi Qingxuan declares, crossing his arms. “Are you listening?”
“...I am listening.”
“Good.” He takes a deep breath, then: “I don’t hate you.”
“But why – “
“No, I’m not done.” Shi Qingxuan holds up a hand to silence him, and it somehow works, despite the scowl on He Xuan’s pale face. “I don’t hate you. I think I…maybe even forgive you for what you did. My brother and I wronged you so, so terribly, and while what you did was also terrible, it was well within your right to be angry and hold resentment. So, when I reascended last year, I couldn’t help thinking of you, because, y’know, you really were my best friend. And I’ve come to realize that I really, truly do not hate you.”
(He doesn’t add the “and I never could.” He’s still too much of a coward.)
He Xuan is silent, but Shi Qingxuan had expected as much. He’s never been particularly expressive with his feelings, especially with words. Still, Shi Qingxuan wishes he would say something .
“...Your sense of justice has always been strong,” He Xuan finally mumbles. “It would have been nice to have from the beginning.”
Shi Qingxuan can’t help but let out a laugh.
“Oh, I’ll bet! You’re not wrong!” he exclaims, slapping his thigh. He Xuan’s eyes are drawn to the noise, and he lifts his gaze at last.
“Your injuries – they’re healed now?”
“Yep, ever since reascending!” Shi Qingxuan grins. “Were you worried about me, He-xiong? I really don’t blame you, for goodness’ sake!”
“...I’m glad it worked,” he replies. There’s a beat of silence, and then Shi Qingxuan freezes.
That wording… could he possibly mean…?
“What do you mean, ‘it worked’?”
He Xuan blinks at him, then finally says something that truly startles Shi Qingxuan.
“I sent that god to your area.”
Shi Qingxuan stares up at He Xuan, who towers over him with what ought to be menacing energy, but right now, Shi Qingxuan can only see him as the most contradictory man in the fucking universe .
“You mean!” Shi Qingxuan shouts, his voice cracking as he points at He Xuan. “You mean you sent Li Tieguai here!”
“I did.”
“Did you know?! Did you know he was trying to create another god of misfortune?!”
“Yes.”
“What the heck!” Shi Qingxuan jabs his index finger into He Xuan’s exposed chest. “What the heck!!! You knew I would probably ascend again! I’ve been so poor for so long now! I’m literally good at being poor! So you knew !”
“I knew.”
“BUT YOU TOOK MY POWERS IN THE FIRST PLACE!?” Shi Qingxuan squawks, now jabbing He Xuan with both index fingers rapidly.
He Xuan’s face contorts with frustration. “I know!”
“SO EXPLAIN!” Grabbing He Xuan’s biceps, Shi Qingxuan shakes him hard. “Please, explain with words, for once! For once!!!”
“Would you stop shaking me ?!”
Still frenzied, Shi Qingxuan releases He Xuan, but his hands desperately need something to claw at, so he begins to pick at the embroidery on He Xuan’s robes, his short nails pulling at loose threads wherever he can. He feels like he might be going insane. This makes no sense. This makes no sense!!!
Why would He Xuan bend over backwards for him!? Without a word! Without a word !!! Especially because he was the one who took his spiritual power and godhood in the first place! If it had been an accident, Shi Qingxuan could maybe understand feeling bad, but it just doesn’t make sense.
“...I want…” He Xuan starts, but his voice trails off, face still scrunched. He looks uncomfortable, practically constipated, which also makes no sense! Gods can’t poop, so ghost kings surely can’t either!
“Is it really such a bad thing for me to hear, if you’re hesitating this much?” Shi Qingxuan asks with a slight pout. He can’t help but fall back into the dynamic he had with He Xuan before, and for whatever reason, He Xuan isn’t really resisting it either.
“...I simply wanted… I want to undo what I can, of what I’ve done to you.”
Shi Qingxuan’s hands still on He Xuan’s robes, fingertips brushing against the cool fabric. The world goes silent around him, and he himself also feels frozen.
“You…regret it?”
“I do not regret killing your brother,” He Xuan says in a quiet voice, and Shi Qingxuan winces. “But, I… I’ve had years to think… And when it comes to you, I…”
It would be sweet, seeing him stumble over his words this much, if Shi Qingxuan wasn’t dying to hear the conclusion of these sentences. There has never, ever been a time where He Xuan – even in his time as Ming Yi – expressed himself this fully. Clearly this is important to him.
“...You said… Back then, you said you wanted to die,” He Xuan murmurs. He’s been avoiding Shi Qingxuan’s gaze this whole time, but at this, he lifts his face and reveals nothing but deep hurt and remorse in those unfathomably dark eyes.
“He Xuan, I barely even remember that day,” Shi Qingxuan admits, forcing a smile onto his face. “Did I really say such a thing?”
“You did.” He Xuan’s voice is tight. “I asked if you had anything left to say, and you said you wanted to die. And I told you…”
His voice trails off again, but somewhere from the darkest depths of Shi Qingxuan’s memory, he hears a cold voice: “dream on.” Recollecting that moment must show on his face, because He Xuan gently pushes Shi Qingxuan’s hands down from his robes and to his sides.
“You’ve always been headstrong, always finding a way to get what you want,” he says softly.
“You thought I would kill myself,” Shi Qingxuan mumbles, and He Xuan nods once.
What happens next startles Shi Qingxuan so badly that he stumbles backward a few steps, colliding with his doorway. The rough wood scrapes against his back, but he barely even registers the pain.
No, he’s too busy trying to comprehend why He Xuan, a Supreme, a ghost king with the power to kill him where he stands, a person who has probably never even liked Shi Qingxuan as a person, is sinking to his knees. His inky black hair flows over his shoulders as he places his forehead to the ground in front of him and kowtows.
“S-S-Stop that! Stop that!!!” Shi Qingxuan yells, dropping to his knees and tugging on He Xuan’s arms. “Get up! There’s no need for that! No need, d’you hear me?!”
After a bit of struggling, Shi Qingxuan finally yanks He Xuan to his feet again, and he hurriedly dusts off the man’s robes.
“I just told you, I barely remember that day now,” he huffs, folding his arms across his chest. “And even if you are sorry, the sorriest you’ve ever been, there is no need to – to – prostrate yourself before me like that!”
He Xuan says nothing, and Shi Qingxuan lets out a long, long sigh. Without thinking, he reaches into his belt for his fan, then stops. It’s too late, though; He Xuan notices the movement, and something unrecognizably soft flickers in his eyes for a split second before it disappears.
“Even if you kowtow like that to me, it doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you!” Shi Qingxuan continues, flustered. He’s imagined a scenario like this more than once, but for it to actually be happening feels nothing short of absurd.
And he’s so, so glad it is.
“But! Maybe, if you really want to right the wrongs you’ve done! I can think of something!”
“...What might that be?” He Xuan asks, clearly hesitant.
“Do you even know why I was so upset that day?”
“I killed your brother right in front of you, despite you pleading for me not to,” He Xuan states dryly.
“Okay, that’s true, but it only accounts for fifty percent of the damage, you know!” Shi Qingxuan cries, pulling the fan into one hand and slapping it against the other. He Xuan narrows his eyes in confusion. “...You really don’t know?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about anymore,” He Xuan mutters, nearly under his breath, and Shi Qingxuan resists rolling his eyes.
“Do you know who else I lost that day? My best friend .”
“Best friend” doesn’t feel like enough to describe how Shi Qingxuan felt about Ming Yi. They were inseparable, by his own design to some extent, but he truly did believe he could find no better company in all the three realms than that sullen, sarcastic man.
“So if you really want to fix things,” Shi Qingxuan says, a smile pushing its way onto his face, “then you have to be my friend again. My best friend.”
He Xuan stares at him, lips drawn tight across his face. Shi Qingxuan clears his throat before adding, “Because even though I don’t remember that day very well anymore, I’m positive that what would’ve hurt me even more than my brother’s death was losing you.” He lifts his nose, puffing up his chest. “You’re going to be my best friend, and we can travel around to taste all the best foods, and when the plum blossoms at my temples are in bloom, we can drink wine under the falling petals. We’re going to be together, forever.”
Ah, too direct, perhaps, but well, he’s said it!
He Xuan is as still as an ink brush painting, which Shi Qingxuan doesn’t entirely blame him for, but after a few minutes of stunned silence, he clears his throat again, louder this time.
“Well? Is it a deal?” he prods, taking a small step toward He Xuan.
“...” He Xuan blinks slowly, almost cat-like, then reaches into his sleeve. Shi Qingxuan actively has to keep himself from flinching; surely he’s not bringing out a weapon now, right?! This talk has been going well, hasn’t it?!
Instead, He Xuan pulls out a small box, slightly bigger than Shi Qingxuan’s hand, and lifts his chin, motioning for Shi Qingxuan to take it. It resembles a jewelry box, brass with carvings too small for Shi Qingxuan to make out right away, though he can see something that looks akin to He Xuan’s bonefish.
“What is it?” Shi Qingxuan asks.
“To show I trust you, and that you may trust me,” He Xuan replies, folding Shi Qingxuan’s fingers around it. “Keep it.”
“Can I open it?” When He Xuan nods, Shi Qingxuan eagerly opens the tiny chest. Inside lies several tiny pearls, but instead of the normal cream or pink or beige, these are silver and black. These kinds of pearls, Shi Qingxuan learned long ago, do exist naturally, but they’re very rare and consequently very valuable. Even small ones like these might fetch a small fortune.
Reaching in to touch them, Shi Qingxuan notices they are strung together in a dainty bracelet. The rest of the loop is cool silver beads and some kind of durable string. It might be charmed to stretch but not break, but regardless, it’s far from tacky.
“They’re so beautiful!” he coos, unable to stop himself. “Can I wear it?”
“It would be safest on your person,” He Xuan murmurs, nodding again. Shi Qingxuan reaches for the clasp, then halts. Once again, He Xuan has said something rather revealing, but this time, Shi Qingxuan doesn’t recover as quickly.
These are his ashes , he realizes, his hands beginning to tremble.
Shi Qingxuan has heard about ghosts’ ashes before, about how the only way to destroy a Supreme is to find their ashes and burn them away, but even after learning He Xuan was a ghost king, Shi Qingxuan never once thought about where his ashes might be. He didn’t want to get rid of him, after all, so the thought hadn’t crossed his mind.
Ah, damn, I love him , Shi Qingxuan then thinks, and the trembling becomes outright shivering.
He’s been trying to avoid the idea for years, and it got easier after everything that had happened before, but Shi Qingxuan wonders if perhaps he’s always loved He Xuan, if he didn’t immediately meet him and fall for him and those feelings just escalated from there. It wouldn’t be the craziest thing to happen to him.
“Why… Why are you giving this to me? To me ?” Shi Qingxuan says haltingly. He Xuan picks up the shakiness of his voice, and he must put two and two together for once, because his response is telling.
“Because I trust you,” He Xuan answers him, his voice barely above a whisper. “I trust you with my life. Or whatever may be left of it.” He nods at the delicate bracelet, then looks back up at Shi Qingxuan. “You could do anything to me, and I would not complain.”
He Xuan speaks of betrayal and violence, but Shi Qingxuan’s pounding heart directs his mind immediately elsewhere. He feels almost crazed, but he tries to settle himself down as he slips on the bracelet and lets out a soft laugh.
“Anything?” he pushes. He Xuan nods once, still solemn. “Really? Anything at all?”
He Xuan squeezes his eyes shut, clearly bracing himself for something horrible.
“Yes,” he grunts, nodding again, and Shi Qingxuan’s ears begin to ring.
This stupid, cynical, uptight, awkward, violent man . Shi Qingxuan reaches forward and grabs the lapels of He Xuan’s robes, pulling him forward and down to his height. I love him.
It’s freeing to let himself think those feelings; it’s even more exhilarating to let himself act on them, he realizes as he presses his lips to He Xuan’s cold ones. Though it’s far from his first kiss, it’s easily the one with the most significance to him. He Xuan is trembling in his grasp, and he wants to shout –
Aren’t YOU the one who’s supposed to be scary?! Shouldn’t I be the one shaking like a leaf?!?
It’s only a few seconds, but it feels both too long and too short before Shi Qingxuan pulls away. He Xuan stares at him unblinking, eyes a little wide. Shi Qingxuan wonders if He Xuan can still blush.
“Why did you do that,” He Xuan breathes. His breath is quickened, and for the first time, he seems more like prey than predator.
“You tell me!” Shi Qingxuan cries, flustered. “Why did you let me!? You’re not pushing me away!? I thought you hated my guts!” Shouldn’t they be sworn enemies or something, instead of sucking face out in the open?!
“No,” He Xuan says sharply, his eyes narrowing. “No. I don’t hate you.”
Shi Qingxuan then remembers something. “The fan you gave me! It was menacing!”
He Xuan pauses, his mouth twisting.
“I realized later what I wrote could be misconstrued,” he admits. “But by then, it was too late. You had already taken it with you. And I will point out, you still have it on your person, despite how menacing it is.”
Shi Qingxuan feels his face turn scarlet. He Xuan simply huffs, shaking his head.
“Regardless, there was no malice meant by it. Especially not to you.” He Xuan straightens up and once again says, “I do not hate you.”
“...Okay, maybe you don’t now,” Shi Qingxuan admits trying to find the loophole that he knows must exist, because this is too insane, “but surely before, you had to have – “
“I have never hated you,” He Xuan declares, and though his voice is low, his words hold that certain intensity that Shi Qingxuan has no choice but to believe him. “I tried very, very hard to hate you. I thought it would be easy, all things considered, but it never worked. I never could.”
He Xuan shakes his head, then continues, “There was a time when… I cared about other things more than you.” Like revenge, probably. Shi Qingxuan frowns. “But now you’re the only thing I care about anymore, and I’ve realized that, of all those things, you have perhaps always been the most important.”
“...Damn,” Shi Qingxuan mumbles under his breath. “God. I love you for some insane reason?” The pitch of his voice reaches such heights by the end of that statement that he’s sure a dog started barking, but he can’t help it; his throat is tight with a fear he’s never really known, and looking into He Xuan’s eyes, he know he understands it too.
The last time Shi Qingxuan let himself care this deeply about someone, it didn’t end well. He Xuan is the same, if not twice over.
“Well.” Shi Qingxuan adjusts his hold on He Xuan’s robes, straightening out some of the more defined creases. “What are we meant to do now, huh?”
“...Whatever makes you happiest,” He Xuan replies. Shi Qingxuan sticks out his tongue; it’s too sweet, too sweet!!! He really needs He Xuan to say something mean or snarky again, and fast, or he’s going to melt into a puddle right here!
“You were the priest at my temple that one time, weren’t you?” he asks, and He Xuan nods. Shi Qingxuan laughs. “Did you recognize me?”
“Of course I did. How many times have you made me look at your female form by now?”
“Was I cute?” He grins up at He Xuan, ignoring the choked-up feeling in his throat and the wetness in his eyes. “Were you jealous? I had a husband, and a baby on the way – “
“I knew you were full of shit,” He Xuan says dryly, and Shi Qingxuan laughs again.
“We can do all of that together, you know,” he then says, and He Xuan startles. “Taking care of the temples, I mean. Maybe we can split the time between realms?”
He Xuan calms at this, and he nods. Shi Qingxuan can’t stop smiling.
“What’s that reaction for? What else did you think I meant?” He prods a finger into He Xuan’s cold chest. “I’m the God of Poverty, I’ve no dowry for a marriage. Or did you mean – “
“I did not,” He Xuan mutters, and finally, finally , grabs his chin roughly, pulling him into another kiss. Shi Qingxuan moves his grip, arms folding around He Xuan’s neck. It’s the only way he can stand upright at this point. He could die happy right here, right now.
Really, what a long, arduous, unnecessarily complicated road to get to this point! But Shi Qingxuan finds he’s glad he walked it. He hopes He Xuan feels the same, and when they pull away to meet each other’s gazes again, it’s obvious he does.
“WOW! Now THAT’S how it’s done, Ol’ Feng!”
Shi Qingxuan whips his head toward the intruder’s voice to see Yi-ge standing nearby, waving with both arms.
“Go away !” Shi Qingxuan shouts, his ears growing hot.
“I wish I’d’ve known you were like this – I might’ve stood a chance!” Yi-ge guffaws, slapping his bony thigh in amusement. Shi Qingxuan is mortified, and there’s only one thing he can think to say.
“Dream on!”
And with that, he sharply tugs He Xuan into his house and slams the door shut.
***
They say that the God of Poverty visits the mortal realm from time to time, in human form, often visiting his temples. Sometimes he takes on the guise of a male cultivator, but other times he appears as a beautiful yet poor young woman. Either way, there’s always another figure lurking right behind him, a handsome yet somewhat unnerving young man, who dresses like a head priest or scholar. The God of Poverty must’ve taken someone under their wing! Or perhaps he is their most devoted believer? Some even say that the pair are romantically involved, or maybe even a married couple!
But surely not, most townsfolk insist. For who would ever so gladly accompany such an unfortunate being?