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After everything they’d lived (and died) through, it was nice to simply rest.
So, when Hua Cheng returns to him, Xie Lian lets their lives fill up with little mundane moments.
They sit together beneath the tree, limbs entwined, half-warmed by the sun and half-cooled by the shifting shadows. Xie Lian lets his head rest against Hua Cheng’s chest. There is no heartbeat to speak of, no rise and fall of breath, but his soft humming buzzes between them, where their bodies touch.
They work in the fields sometimes, lending a hand to the farmers in Puqi Village. The old man thanks Xie Lian roughly a hundred times before turning to Hua Cheng, asking him an offhanded question about his beloved. Hua Cheng’s smirk is enough to make Xie Lian look away, flustered.
As they work, Xie Lian watches his lover from the corner of his eyes. He is diligent and hard-working, not minding the mud, only rolling up his sleeves, a small furrow in his brow. A speck of mud finds its way onto his smooth skin, and Xie Lian doesn’t resist the temptation. He reaches out and swipes it away, watching with satisfaction as a light blush rises to Hua Cheng’s ethereal face.
In the height of the summer, they pick strawberries together. Wild ones, glowing red in their bushes along the forest floor. Xie Lian brushes them off with his long sleeves and passes a few to Hua Cheng, taking a bite of his own.
Juice dribbles down his chin, coaxing a startled sound from red-stained lips. Hua Cheng laughs, reaching out to wipe some of the juice away. His lips taste like summer when he kisses Xie Lian softly, with a whispered “happy birthday, my love”.
Xie Lian doesn’t wake up alone anymore. The early morning sun filters through their gauzy curtains, brushing its fingers lightly against every surface and setting their life ablaze with gold. Hua Cheng looks untouchable in that light, like an angel or a story that has been told before, but never found. He feels distant, right up until he gives Xie Lian a soft, fond smile, reaching out to brush a thumb against his cheek, single eye full of tenderness and love.
Hua Cheng cooks them dinner sometimes, though he still adores every monstrosity that Xie Lian creates. His viciousness is nowhere to be found when he chops vegetables into neat, even pieces and sweeps them from the cutting board into the pan, filling their shared home with the sound of sizzles.
At night, Xie Lian reads a book aloud in a smooth, melodic tone. Hua Cheng curls up beside him, resting his head on Xie Lian’s shoulder and he feels his heart expand. Hua Cheng’s body is cold but he makes Xie Lian feel warm, warmer than any fire could ever make him.
After long days, Hua Cheng will help Xie Lian bathe. Always respectful, always polite, he washes his hair ever so gently, making Xie Lian feel loved in a way he hadn’t since his parents had passed away. As it dries, he drags a comb through tangled, damp strands until they lay flat. Smiling, he presses a kiss to the bath-warm skin on the gentle rising slope of Xie Lian’s bare shoulder.
Xie Lian cracks a silly joke, one that isn’t heavy with every scar he still bears from his past, and Hua Cheng laughs. A light and simple sound, one that Xie Lian wants to attach permanently to the inside of his ear, if only to hear it a million times again.
They make tea, the one thing Xie Lian always makes perfectly. Their cups match, a rare find Xie Lian made years ago when scrap collecting. Two small, chipped cups with scratched up paint. He couldn’t bear to part with the solemn little pair all those years ago, and when he sets them side by side on their table and hears Hua Cheng’s thanks, he’s glad for it.
In the light of the setting sun, Xie Lian’s arms loop around Hua Cheng’s waist and they watch as the day slips into the night. Each tree is touched with amber and Xie Lian is so deeply happy and content that tears fill his eyes.
“Why are you crying, my love?” Hua Cheng asks softly. He brushes a tear from the corner of Xie Lian’s face and kisses his cheek.
“I’m just… happy. I’m so happy, San Lang. I’ve never been this happy in my life.”
Hua Cheng’s face splits into a wide grin. “Is that so? Does the setting of the sun really bring you so much joy?”
“San Lang,” Xie Lian says, teasingly exasperated. Hua Cheng laughs, leaning against Xie Lian.
“Tell me what it is making you so happy, gege,” Hua Cheng prompts.
“You already know. You’re trying to make me compliment you again, aren’t you?”
“So what if I am? Just humor your dear husband, won’t you?”
“Fine.”
They stay quiet for a few moments, basking in each others’ presence.
“It’s you.”
“It’s me? What’s me, gege?” Hua Cheng can’t help but ask.
“San Lang! Do you need me to say it so badly?” Xie Lian protests.
“I do. I do, ever so much. Tell me, gege, what it is that makes you cry out of joy.”
Xie Lian gives up, turning to face Hua Cheng entirely. The sun has placed a hand on the side of Hua Cheng’s face, painting it in light gold, so Xie Lian does the same, letting Hua Cheng’s cheek rest in the curve of his palm.
“You. It’s you who makes me so happy, San Lang. It’s you I can’t live without, and it’s you that I live and love and heal for.”
At the intense sincerity of his words, Hua Cheng averts his gaze. Xie Lian takes this as a victory.
They remain seated up on the roof, side by side, inseparable for many lifetimes to come. Just happy to be with the other.
Only after having met you did I discover that it’s such a simple thing to be happy.