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Hua Cheng didn’t particularly like working with people. It was a well-known fact among those who knew of him.

But when his prince offhandedly told him one night that he thought his shrine would look nice with a garden, he decided right then and there that it didn’t matter how many people he’d have to sweet talk and suck up to.

If His Highness wanted a garden, then he’d get a garden, end of story.

Bright and early the very next day, Hua Cheng rose long before Xie Lian was likely to. With a soft groan he stretched out all of the kinks in his mortal disguise, quietly lamenting the fact that he had to wear it at all, before he crawled around his sleeping prince and out of their shared bedding as carefully as he could.

Right away, he began to prepare for the day ahead. He slipped his boots on, straightened out his ponytail, and shrugged the upper half of his coat down over his hips. He rolled his sleeves to his elbows, pausing to admire his tattoo for a second, and then he wiped the faintest sheen of sweat from his brow with the back of one hand.

He could already feel through the gaps in the walls that it was going to be a hot one.

The door to the shrine creaked horribly as he pulled it open, and he made a mental note to fix it later. With his eyes fixed on Xie Lian’s sleeping face he slowly slipped through the small opening that he made and took his sweet time closing the door after himself, ensuring that it made not a single sound on his way out.

He surveyed the yard, and it only took a moment for him to come up with a plan for the garden. He’d check with Xie Lian first before he settled on doing it his way, of course, but in his humble opinion he thought it might look best if it ran along the fence near the gate, flanking the path that led up to the shrine itself. All he needed now were the materials to get it done, and maybe a few extra hands, too, which he knew exactly where to find.

With a clear goal in mind he quickly set out for the nearby Puqi Village.

Nearly two hours later Hua Cheng returned to the shrine, and he wasn’t alone.

He sauntered through the gate with a long piece of grass in his mouth and his hands casually thrown behind his head. Following along after him came a handful of eager volunteers as well as an ox-drawn cart, piled high with wood, nails, stones, baskets of soil, and whatever else he was so kindly told he’d need.

With perfect timing, Xie Lian cautiously peeked out the door. At a glance, he seemed tired, looking around with a frown as he was no doubt puzzled by the sudden entourage. He quickly darted back inside and returned to the porch a moment later, this time with his bamboo hat delicately perched on the very top of his head.

“San Lang? What exactly is… all of this?”

Hua Cheng smiled wide as he stepped aside. He tossed his sprig of grass, and with a brief sweep of his hand he gestured to the crowd behind him. Some of the villagers raised their shovels and rakes up high in greeting.

“You said you wanted a garden, didn’t you?” he asked.

Xie Lian blinked twice.

“Well… yes. But I didn’t say I needed it today,” he said with a sheepish laugh. “Or… at all, really.”

“Need, want—it’s all the same to me,” Hua Cheng said with a shrug. “It’s no trouble, gege. I promise.”

“Let us help, Daozhang!” said one of the older men. “Least we can do for you and Xiao-Hua.”

“I brought plenty of flowers,” said a young woman, as she plucked a heavy basket of soil and plants from the cart. “Take your pick—please! You can plant as many as you’d like. I have lots more at home!”

Even from across the yard, Hua Cheng could see Xie Lian’s cheeks grow warm. It made his heart beat just a little bit faster, reminding him that his mortal disguise really wasn’t as bothersome as he often thought it was.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Xie Lian mumbled. He cleared his throat, and spoke up a little louder to say, “Thank you! All of you. I didn’t expect this, but I’m grateful. Very grateful. I’ll help too, just… give me a minute!”

Hua Cheng watched as Xie Lian disappeared inside once more before returning with a big basket full of fruit in hand. It was promptly passed around and offered to everyone present as a snack for the coming day’s work.

Lastly, it landed in Hua Cheng’s hands. Xie Lian arrived along with it, picking out a nice fresh peach for him.

“It’s awfully early in the morning to start such a big project,” Xie Lian murmured. “Are you sure about this?”

“Mhm. Positive,” Hua Cheng said cheerfully, sinking his teeth into his peach. He politely waited until he finished chewing and swallowing before he said, “It’s getting hot already. The more that gets done in the morning, the better. Besides, gege was right, as always. A garden would be perfect.”

Xie Lian smiled, evidently feeling bashful given how pink his cheeks were. He looked down at his feet, but in doing so his hat tipped forward a bit too far, as he hadn’t put it on right to begin with. Before it hit the ground Hua Cheng caught the brim of it in the palm of his hand, and he gently set it back snugly on his prince’s head.

“Be careful,” he said softly. “Keep that on, okay? Don’t let the sun burn you.”

“What about you?” Xie Lian asked quietly. “You don’t have anything to wear, San Lang.”

Leaning in close so the villagers didn’t hear, Hua Cheng murmured, “Ghosts shouldn’t burn. I’ll be alright.”

Truthfully, he had no idea if his mortal skin would burn in the sun or not. He’d never spent enough time basking in it to find out, so only time would tell. But he didn’t feel the need to worry Xie Lian with something so trivial.

“Want to get started, gege?” he asked, offering the rest of his half-eaten peach to Xie Lian, who gladly took it. “It’s up to you how we do this, but if you’re interested, I did come up with a few ideas already…”

“I’d love to hear them, San Lang,” Xie Lian said eagerly, nibbling at the soft flesh of the fruit where Hua Cheng had already bitten it. “It was your idea to do this in the first place, after all. And I trust you. Lead the way.”

Filled to the brim with resolve, Hua Cheng gathered himself, Xie Lian, and the villagers all together near the fence at the front of the yard, and he began to run through an explanation of what exactly he had in mind.

After an hour of breaking ground, Puqi Shrine finally had a solid garden-shaped outline along its entrance.

The land had been cleared of grass and weeds, and the volunteers were working hard to finish flattening the dirt in preparation for some wooden frames. The frames were yet to be built, but with Hua Cheng spearheading that part of the project himself while the villagers tilled the ground, progress was already fairly underway.

There was just one problem. It was terribly hot for mid-morning, and it was already slowing Hua Cheng down.

His collar was damp with sweat, as was his brow, his palms, and just about everything else. Each deep breath he drew in as he panted was filled with dust and heat, burning his airways and his lungs and drying the back of his throat. It was torturous. If he could’ve shed his mortal skin right then and there, he absolutely would have.

But it was hardly enough to make him quit. He’d told Xie Lian that this was no trouble at all, and he’d meant it.

A short break couldn’t hurt, though. For a while now he’d been trying to dig out a particularly irritating splinter from his finger, and a break would let him get that done. Then maybe he could work just a little bit faster. He furrowed his brow as he pinched the skin between two nails, putting pressure on one side to try and force it out. But his tired hands shook, and the only success he found was in making his skin more red and sore.

Suddenly, a gentle hand—one much softer and cleaner than his own—landed on his wrist. He stopped fiddling with his fingertip and looked up to find Xie Lian fretting over him with a worried look in his eyes.

Grinning, Hua Cheng said, “What can I say? I was clumsy.”

“Here… let me help,” Xie Lian murmured.

Without waiting for permission, as if he would ever need it anyway, Xie Lian carefully kneaded the tip of Hua Cheng’s finger until the wooden sliver slipped right out. He blew it away with a rush of delightfully cool air, and with his thumb he slowly rubbed the reddened and swollen skin in circles to try and soothe some of the pain.

“How does that feel?”

“Much better. I hardly felt a thing,” Hua Cheng quietly praised. “Thank you, gege. I’ll be sure to call on you again the next time this happens.”

Xie Lian smiled doubtfully. “Next time? You’re not being reckless, are you?”

“Me? Never,” Hua Cheng joked. “But I’ll be more careful from now on. I promise.”

Apparently satisfied, Xie Lian nodded, before he quickly turned around to fiddle with something.

In the meantime, Hua Cheng looked at his hand. He flexed his fingers a few times, admiring how effortless Xie Lian made the extraction seem. All of the pain, as insignificant as it was, was simply gone. He smiled fondly at his fingertip for a good long while until a soft sound out of Xie Lian piqued his curiosity.

“Here, San Lang,” Xie Lian said, holding a flask of what appeared to be water. “It’s full, and it’s cold. You should have some. I don’t think I’ve seen you take a single drink yet, and you’ve been working for a while now…”

Hua Cheng dropped his voice low, and he dared to tease, “Oh? Have you been watching me work, gege?”

Xie Lian let go of the flask in a panic, but much like his hat earlier on, Hua Cheng caught it just in time.

“N-No! I mean… yes?” Xie Lian sputtered. “I’ve been watching everyone. Supervising, that sort of thing.”

Having been urged by Hua Cheng as well as some of the townsfolk to take it easy, Xie Lian had spent most of his time running around fetching water and supplies for everyone. He aided the operation whenever he could, as he was plenty capable, but most of the time he ended up getting gently shooed away by Hua Cheng with the insistence that he needn’t lift a finger.

To say that he’d taken on the role of a supervisor really wouldn’t be that far off from the truth.

Hua Cheng snickered, and he said, “I’m only teasing. You’re doing great, gege. You’re an oasis in the desert.”

Xie Lian looked away, smiling bashfully. He scratched his cheek with the tip of his finger as he mumbled, “I… wouldn’t go that far. Anyone can hand out water. I’m really not doing much, to be honest.”

“I disagree. You’re looking out for everyone. Keeping us safe,” Hua Cheng said. He raised his flask, gesturing toward Xie Lian with it, and added, “Thank you for this, by the way. Your timing couldn’t have been better.”

He took a drink, and it was an instant relief on his parched throat. He couldn’t help but to keep going, downing one gulp of cold water after another, even when he shamelessly spilled some past his lips and down his chin.

Alright, maybe he wasn’t completely without shame. He’d hate to look like a slob in front of his prince.

He snuck a peek at Xie Lian as he neared the end of his flask, and what he saw just about made him choke.

It could’ve been his imagination, or perhaps just a trick of the sun. But it looked as though Xie Lian might’ve been eyeing his throat each time he swallowed, and maybe even following those few drops of water as they ran down to his collar and into the top of his tunic, too.

He decided that the unbearable heat had simply made him delusional.

He quickly downed the rest of the water in one big swig, taking in far more than his mouth should ever hold, and he finished with a soft, satisfied gasp. He handed the flask back to Xie Lian with a crooked smile, which he soon hid behind the back of his hand as he wiped his lips dry.

“I’ll go and… fill this up again,” Xie Lian said slowly, as he stared at the flask rather than at Hua Cheng. “Just… let me know when you want some more, okay? I’ll, uh… I’ll come right over. Don’t work too hard, San Lang.”

For whatever reason, Hua Cheng couldn’t seem to make his mouth work, so he hummed and nodded.

His eyes lingered on Xie Lian long after he’d already wandered off to give water to someone else. Absently, he rubbed the tip of his once-sore finger with his thumb, and he began to wonder just how closely Xie Lian had been paying attention to him to notice that he’d not only not been drinking, but that he’d also hurt himself, too.

Like a child guarding a secret, he smiled impishly to himself. Maybe he wasn’t imagining things after all.

He dove back into his work with a renewed sense of enthusiasm, and the blistering heat bothered him less and less. He definitely felt it searing his skin, confirming his suspicion that he could in fact burn. But his desire to see this project through to the end far outweighed his incredible distaste for the sun. Just knowing that he could make Xie Lian smile made it infinitely easier for him to forget how uncomfortable he was.

He sawed planks and drove nails faster than ever before, and in no time at all, he built up the base of one of the frames all on his own, getting it done in the same amount of time that it took for the group to build another.

He would’ve gladly done all of the work himself, if only he could. But there was only so much time he could spend at the shrine before it felt like he was overstaying his welcome, and he hated to impose. As good as he was with his hands, he simply couldn’t get everything done by himself in a timely enough manner, and to him, “timely enough” meant that he wanted it done today, no excuses.

Within an hour, though, he had a frame nearly done, as did the volunteers. He was soaked in sweat and in dire need of another drink, and his head had begun to pound with a vicious headache. But he’d made progress, and that was all that mattered. He vowed to see this frame done before he’d even entertain the idea of taking another break, as he couldn’t be caught slacking when there was always a chance that Xie Lian was watching.

By the end of the day he needed to have something to show for the utter mess that he’d made of himself.

Between his flushed skin and the wet hair that was plastered to his face, or even the way he’d been panting like a dog for the better part of an hour, he couldn’t decide which part of him was more sad and off-putting. And that was before he considered whatever had been going on with his clothes, which were usually so neat and tidy and befitting of a man who’d fooled the townsfolk into thinking he was a wealthy young noble.

A glance at his pants revealed that they were far more brown with dust and dirt than they were white. The same applied to his tunic and even the inside of his coat, as it was turned inside-out while it draped over his hips. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how much dirt there was in his boots, or even in his hair.

He looked about as distasteful as it gets. He could only hope that Xie Lian didn’t come too close before he had a chance to wash up, as there was a very real chance that he might’ve smelled every bit as filthy as he looked.

In other words, the sooner he finished the garden, the better.

After wiping his brow for the dozenth time, smearing dirt across his forehead and through his messy hair, he threw himself wholeheartedly into his work. He willfully ignored his growing need for water and the worsening pain that throbbed behind his eyes, focusing only on the tools in his hands and his need to please his prince.

Nearly a half hour later, however, he began to miss his hammer strokes.

The first nail bent to the side when he struck it, and he didn’t think twice about it. He couldn’t afford to stop and think about anything else with his head pounding the way that it was, as he’d surely lose his concentration if he did. But then the second nail bent, too. Then the third. By the time he’d ruined the fifth one, he snarled out of frustration and shut his eyes tight for a while.

When he opened them again a short time later he felt unusually nauseous.

His eyes twitched and shook from left to right, and he couldn’t seem to get them to focus on anything. His vision swam, shifting from sharp to blurry and back in an instant, over and over. He raised his hand, trying to see if he could make sense of what he was holding, but even then, his hand trembled, as if the hammer he’d been holding all morning was suddenly far too heavy for him to hold.

Something was very wrong, but… he had no idea what.

He took a deep breath through his nose, but it burned on the way in as if he’d inhaled fire. His hammer fell to the ground with a dull thunk as he threw his elbow over his face, stifling a terrible cough that seemed to tear the back of his bone-dry throat and rattle his aching head even more. When it subsided, he tried breathing through his mouth instead, but after the damage to his throat, he just couldn’t seem to get any more air in.

He actually started to panic a little, until he remembered that he could shed his mortal skin if he really had to. Whether he wore it or not, he wasn’t truly in any danger, anyway. Problem was, it could be troublesome for Xie Lian if he wandered around the shrine in his true form, but at this point he wasn’t sure that he could bear the heat or the pain of being “mortal” for too much longer.

His heart suddenly shuddered, and he clutched at his tunic. He couldn’t possibly quit on His Highness now.

A ghost king should scoff at the sun, not fear it.

He grit his teeth, and with some help from the wooden frame he hauled himself up onto his feet. If he could just get to the nearby river to cool off for even a moment then he might be able to salvage the situation completely.

Once he was upright, however, his pain and suffering only seemed to increase tenfold.

His vision darkened, then constricted. His head suddenly felt as though it were only seconds away from bursting, and he clutched at both sides of it with his hands. Somehow, the sweat that had once drenched his entire body was now gone without a trace, although it did very little to cool him down in the first place. But in that moment he would’ve done almost anything to feel even one drop of it on his blistering skin.

His agony seemed to go on forever, whereas his one saving grace in all of this did not. Xie Lian’s soft voice, which he’d been passively listening to all this time, started to fade, until eventually it fell silent. His vision finally left him entirely, and his legs grew numb to the point where he could hardly feel them. For the first time in quite a long time, he found himself feeling oddly afraid.

Gege? Are you still there?

I… I need…

“That looks perfect right there. Thank you—”

Thump.

Xie Lian’s warm words of gratitude were cut short as something heavy hit the dirt nearby.

“Hm? What was…?”

He looked around between the faces of the villagers on either side of him, but they were all present and accounted for, and seemingly every bit as confused as he was. The only one who wasn’t among them was Hua Cheng, but the last time Xie Lian checked on him he seemed to be making out just fine all on his own.

He turned to see what he was up to, at least, and what he found left him feeling sick to his stomach.

Collapsed in the dirt with his back to the group was none other than Hua Cheng, and he wasn’t moving.

Stunned, Xie Lian slowly whispered, “San Lang…”

It took a moment for what he saw to sink in. When it did, his pupils shrank, and his breath caught in his throat.

“San Lang!” he shouted.

He nearly tripped over his own feet as he raced to Hua Cheng’s side. He fell to his knees, covering his own white clothes in dirt, but he didn’t care. His trembling hands quickly and carefully rolled Hua Cheng onto his back, and he whimpered frightfully when Hua Cheng’s head turned limply toward him.

Gently, he shook Hua Cheng by the shoulders, but it wasn’t enough to open his eyes. He called his name a few times, sharply crying, “San Lang?!” but still, nothing happened.

Though he was already dead, Hua Cheng still somehow looked utterly lifeless.

In a panic, Xie Lian put his hands all over him, touching his face, his neck, his chest—anywhere he could reach to try and find out what went wrong, and how. Before long, he noticed that every inch of bare skin he felt was as hot as a cooktop, and he could only imagine how much worse it must be beneath Hua Cheng’s clothes.

He touched his own forehead, and then his wrists, too, seeing as how they’d been in the sun while his face had not. He found that he was only a little warm, despite spending the same amount of time outside as Hua Cheng.

In other words, Hua Cheng’s heat was coming from the inside. He was fevered. Question was… why?

“He’s burning up…” Xie Lian mumbled. “What happened? What’s wrong with him, what… what’s going on—?”

“—Daozhang.”

A firm hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. He looked up and discovered that the villagers had gathered around him, and all of them were staring down at Hua Cheng with worried looks on their faces.

“Please,” he said desperately, his eyes darting between them. “I don’t… I don’t know what happened…”

He looked back at Hua Cheng, who still hadn’t moved. He’d never seen him lie so still before. He should have known what to do at a time like this, and deep down, he did. But for some reason, at the moment, he didn’t. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he couldn’t hear himself think, and he was too scared to move a single muscle. If he did something wrong and somehow made everything worse, he knew he’d never forgive himself.

“Looks like sun-stroke, Daozhang,” said one of the men. “Better get him inside where it’s cool.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” said another. “We should move him quick, else he’ll get worse in no time.”

The two volunteers came a little closer, their hands reaching toward Hua Cheng. Instinctively, Xie Lian moved.

He surged forward, almost shielding Hua Cheng from them both. Without thinking, he scooped him up in his arms, cradling Hua Cheng’s head against his chest as he held him behind the shoulders and under the knees.

“It’s alright, I’ve got him,” he said hurriedly. “I’ve got him…”

He gazed down at Hua Cheng’s face, half expecting those eyes to fly open at any moment. It would be just like Hua Cheng to “wake up” at the perfect time and tease him about being held so sweetly. But he still didn’t stir.

Pressing Hua Cheng a little tighter to himself, Xie Lian carefully rose to his feet. He walked quickly toward the shrine with everyone else in tow, and one of the villagers kindly jogged ahead to open up the door for him. He rushed inside, and he laid Hua Cheng down gently on their bedding before he untied his hair for him and slipped a straw pillow beneath his head, making sure that he was as comfortable as he could be.

After that, Xie Lian felt a bit better. But he still couldn’t seem to make sense of what he needed to do next.

He sat on his knees with his shoulders drawn in, doing nothing and saying nothing. He stared blankly at Hua Cheng while the villagers bustled around them, talking amongst themselves and offering suggestions to one another that he could barely hear over the sound of his racing heart. At one point he heard a woman offer to fetch some water, but before he could try to do so much as thank her, she had already run out the door.

Beside him, someone stepped up to take his hat from his head. He finally lifted his gaze to see who it was, and he found his hat in the hands of the same man who’d kept him grounded earlier with a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t you worry, Daozhang. We’ll finish up the garden for you while Xiao-Hua rests,” the man told him.

Xie Lian turned his upper body around and he meekly extended a hand toward him as if to try and stop him.

“Please, don’t trouble yourselves!” he begged. “I can’t let this happen to any of you as well.”

“We’ll be alright. We’re pretty sturdy,” the man assured with a hearty smile. “Xiao-Hua’s well-bred, right? He’s probably not used to working so hard in this kind of heat, is he?”

Knowing he couldn’t out Hua Cheng as a ghost, Xie Lian nodded numbly. It was as good an excuse as any.

“Ah… yes,” he mumbled. “Yes. That’s right. You’re right…”

“Poor thing,” said another young woman. “He worked so hard for you, too, Daozhang. He deserves to rest.”

Her words may as well have driven a stake right through Xie Lian’s heart.

“I know,” he whispered.

I know that better than anyone.

The girl who fetched water soon returned, leaving plenty of it by Xie Lian’s side for him to soak Hua Cheng’s fevered skin with. Another villager began rummaging through the cupboard for some cloths, and someone else even managed to find an old paper fan that Xie Lian had collected during one of his recent scrap hauls.

Soon, he was stocked up and fully prepared to ease Hua Cheng out of his fever. The villagers quietly excused themselves from the shrine, closing the door softly behind them. It wasn’t long before the sound of hammers striking nails reached Xie Lian’s ears, but it didn’t bring him the same sense of satisfaction that it had before.

With Hua Cheng passed out and severely heat-stricken, he wasn’t sure that he could look forward to anything, let alone his garden. He was eager for it before, but for it to come at the cost of Hua Cheng’s well-being?

He’d strip it all away in a heartbeat if it would undo the suffering that Hua Cheng had been through.

While it wasn’t his idea to work outside on such a hot day, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was somehow his fault. If he’d only paid more attention, he could’ve avoided this. He could’ve shut Hua Cheng’s plan down from the start and made him wait for a better, cooler day. But he didn’t. He didn’t do anything.

He was supposed to look out for everyone today, yet… he ignored the most important one of them all.

“San Lang…? Can you hear me?”

Somehow, through the black fog and the insufferable heat, Hua Cheng heard Xie Lian calling him softly.

I… I can. I can hear you.

He tried to say as much aloud, but his mouth wouldn’t move. His eyes wouldn’t open for him, either.

As he lay there, wherever he was, he felt a bit like he was floating, but also lying dead at the bottom of the sea at the same time. His head still ached deeply, as if it were resting beneath the weight of that sea, but the water itself actually felt quite good. It was cold and refreshing as it dripped onto his forehead and ran through his hair, and it felt even better when it sometimes pressed against him, like the ocean had gotten heavier or something.

He drifted like that for a while until he remembered that he’d heard Xie Lian speak to him.

With a bit of effort, his eyes finally opened, and the first thing he saw was the patchwork ceiling of Puqi Shrine up above. He couldn’t tell what time it was, nor could he recall going to sleep. The last thing he remembered was working outside in the yard, but between then and now, everything was a blur.

Did he… pass out? Was that why he couldn’t remember? If so, then who brought him inside? Was it Xie Lian?

“San Lang!”

All that precious water he felt on his head suddenly disappeared, and he lazily turned his gaze toward the hand that now hovered above his face. A damp cloth hung from its grasp, which he decided must’ve been the source of his relief. Past that hand was an arm wrapped in clean white silk, though—the kind of silk he’d recognize anywhere. Just the sight of it alone was enough to bring him far more relief than that cloth ever would.

He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a raspy gasp, and he furrowed his brow.

“Don’t speak,” Xie Lian said softly. “Let me get you a drink, first.”

Hua Cheng silently let his head roll to the side, and he watched as Xie Lian gathered water into a shallow cup with shaking hands. When it was filled nearly to the brim Xie Lian set it down on the floor just outside of Hua Cheng’s reach, and Hua Cheng stared at it almost as reverently as he often did his prince.

Until now, he never thought he could want something as simple as water quite so badly.

But Xie Lian didn’t give it to him. Not yet, anyway. Rather than let him sip to his heart’s content, Xie Lian tucked a hand behind his shoulders, grazing his spine with the most gentle fingertips. He shivered, relishing how good it felt to have a cold hand brush against his bare skin, and then he promptly stiffened when he realized that he had no memory of losing any of his clothing to begin with.

He looked down, and he saw that he was bare except for his trousers. No coat or tunic, no boots or socks.

“I’m sorry!” Xie Lian said quickly, glancing at his lap in shame. “You were asleep, so I couldn’t ask you if it was okay to… undress you. You were fevered. You still are. And I… I just didn’t want you to get worse,” he rambled.

“No,” Hua Cheng croaked softly, shaking his head. “It’s alright, gege. Thank you.”

Without wasting another second, Xie Lian carefully guided Hua Cheng upright. While he held him steady with one arm he fumbled around with his other hand to find the cup of water, which he brought to Hua Cheng’s mouth as quickly as he could, resting the edge of it on his lower lip.

“Here,” he whispered. “Take it slow.”

Hua Cheng locked eyes with Xie Lian and nodded.

The cup tipped ever so slightly, and cold water trickled into his throat. He could feel it run down into his stomach, cooling him from the inside out. It made him shiver again, sending a pleasant chill rippling throughout his body. He leaned into it, trying for more, but Xie Lian gave him only as much as he thought he could handle.

When it ran out, he sighed. Still feeling exhausted, he greedily leaned into Xie Lian a little instead.

With a quiet clink, the cup found its way back to the floor. But Hua Cheng didn’t. Xie Lian continued to hold him for a while longer, though Hua Cheng didn’t know why. He was sure that he felt as hot to the touch as an oven.

He wasn’t about to complain, though. He could’ve easily fallen asleep like that, lying on Xie Lian’s shoulder.

He nearly did, too, but before he made it there Xie Lian set him back down after all. His head sank into the pillow and he found that same damp cloth pressed against his forehead once more, drenched in fresh water this time. He turned his face toward it, and he pushed back against the gentle pressure of Xie Lian’s hand.

Finally, Xie Lian smiled. Then his hand disappeared, leaving only the cloth atop Hua Cheng’s forehead.

Selfishly, Hua Cheng considered asking Xie Lian to put it back. He quite liked the feeling of it pressing against his aching head. But before he could try, another cloth was draped across his neck, and he shivered yet again.

“Oh…” he said quietly. “That… feels nice.”

“Does it?”

“Mhm.”

Xie Lian went quiet for a moment. Then he said, “I have more, if you want?”

“Please?” Hua Cheng asked. “If you wouldn’t mind…”

Nodding, Xie Lian began to soak a few more cloths.

Once damp, they were laid here and there across Hua Cheng’s chest, though they went no further down than his ribs. Hua Cheng couldn’t blame Xie Lian for not wanting to touch him more than necessary, as not only was he filthy, but it was likely very difficult for Xie Lian just to undress this much of him in the first place.

After a while, the cloths were taken away, one at a time, before they were rinsed and reapplied. It seemed like tedious work, but Xie Lian didn’t appear to mind at all, or if he did, he was doing a wonderful job at hiding it.

He toiled away with the most gentle smile on his otherwise haggard face. For a long time, Hua Cheng could only lie there in silence while he thought of a fitting way to express his gratitude. It became harder for him to think each time Xie Lian laid another cold cloth on him, though, and before he knew it, his eyes were drifting shut. Within a few more minutes, he was nearly asleep again.

Eventually, Xie Lian stopped. His hands retreated into his lap, one folded atop the other, and he sighed.

“San Lang…”

Immediately, Hua Cheng opened his eyes as if he were wide awake. He knew what that tone meant. He turned his head for a better look, and the cloth slipped off his forehead. Unsurprisingly, Xie Lian didn’t put it back.

Xie Lian’s tiny smile was gone, and in its place was a face that was stricken with guilt.

“I’m so sorry,” Xie Lian whispered.

“Hm? Why?” Hua Cheng asked. “What’s wrong?”

“This is all my fault,” Xie Lian continued. “You tried to do something nice for my sake, and—”

“No, gege… it’s not. It’s not your fault at all,” Hua Cheng said sincerely. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

He tried to sit up, but his body still felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds. He managed to prop himself up on his elbows, at least, and he took a second to catch his breath and allow his head to stop spinning.

“I overdid it, that’s all,” he gently explained. “This form, it’s… a little more human. I didn’t take proper care of it.”

“But I was supposed to look out for everyone,” Xie Lian mumbled. “I had one job out there, and I didn’t do it. I should have asked you how you were feeling. I should have come to give you more water much sooner. Why didn’t I just… give you my hat? You needed it more than I did. I can handle the sun, but… but you…”

Xie Lian trailed off with a bitter look in his eyes. Then he shuffled around a bit, dragging his legs up to his chest, and he sat there hugging them to himself, chin resting atop his knees and all. Like a neat little package.

“Gege…”

Hua Cheng was at a loss for words. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever successfully consoled Xie Lian in his times of anguish, and he was afraid to try in case he mucked it up. He knew he couldn’t just say nothing, though. Surely his silence had to hurt a lot more than whatever was about to come out of his mouth next, right? If he didn’t speak up, then Xie Lian would only continue to blame himself, and he couldn’t have that.

An idea suddenly struck him, though it likely wasn’t the brightest one he’d ever had. He hauled himself upright the rest of the way and pondered it for a moment anyway, and eventually, his idea won through impulse alone.

He stuck a hand out and very gently laid it atop Xie Lian’s head, lightly petting him and stroking his hair.

It felt so wrong in every way, considering his station was so far beneath Xie Lian’s that it may as well have been in the ground. Plus, he was still covered in dirt and so much dried sweat. But somehow, it helped. He didn’t know how, but it did, and he dared not complain. It wasn’t long before Xie Lian’s face softened, and Hua Cheng swiftly decided that he’d keep going as long as Xie Lian didn’t mind it. He owed him that much, at least.

“I wasn’t being sincere with you,” he murmured. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have been honest about how the sun made me feel, and… I wasn’t. It was my fault, not yours. Please, don’t blame yourself, Your Highness.”

Hua Cheng wasn’t sure that his apology would carry nearly as much weight as he’d hoped it would, but to his surprise, Xie Lian did ease out of his slump a little. He raised his head and tucked his legs down at his side, and he shyly looked Hua Cheng in the eyes while he fidgeted with the ends of his sleeves. He seemed much more relaxed now, so Hua Cheng decided that it was as good a time as any to gently take his hand away.

In its place, he gave Xie Lian the most tender smile he was capable of.

“Thank you for taking care of me, gege. I feel much better already, because of you,” he said softly. “And thank you for being so worried about me. I don’t think anyone has ever thought about me as much as you do.”

Xie Lian’s eyes brightened. They quickly darted across Hua Cheng’s face, studying him intensely. If Hua Cheng were to guess he’d say that Xie Lian was carefully considering something, though he had no idea what.

For a while, neither of them said anything. Hua Cheng waited with the utmost patience, giving Xie Lian as much time as he needed. Eventually, he noticed his prince’s face had gotten a lot warmer than it usually was.

Then, out of nowhere, Xie Lian hugged him.

In what felt like less than a second, Hua Cheng went from having a rather low opinion of himself to finding two arms wrapped snugly around him, squishing his arms against his sides and his chest against Xie Lian’s. He took a deep breath, inhaling the slight earthy scent that Xie Lian carried with him, and he sat there stiff as a board, too afraid to move.

Into the crook of his neck, Xie Lian whispered, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

The gentle heat of those words only made Hua Cheng burn hotter, but he truly couldn’t care less.

He yearned to return the embrace, but he was hesitant. His arms hovered awkwardly near Xie Lian’s waist while he waged war with himself internally. It seemed so improper to hold on to Xie Lian like that, but seeing as how Xie Lian was the one to initiate, then it could only be considered rude if he were to refuse, couldn’t it?

After much thought, he wrapped his nervous arms around Xie Lian’s waist, taking care not to set them too low. Xie Lian held him a little tighter in return, and he couldn’t help but press his face against his prince’s shoulder.

He decided that all the water in the world could never compare to the sheer relief he felt in Xie Lian’s arms.

“Did I scare you?” he murmured, trying to imagine what it must’ve been like to see him pass out. He felt Xie Lian nod against his cheek, and he shut his eyes as guilt overwhelmed him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s alright,” Xie Lian quietly assured.

Hua Cheng stifled a sigh. He didn’t think it would ever be alright, but he had to trust Xie Lian’s judgement.

As they melted into one another’s arms, Hua Cheng finally realized that he’d begun to sweat again. Between the heat of his fever, the heat of Xie Lian’s clothes, and the heat that often came out of nowhere whenever His Highness got too close, he figured it was bound to happen at some point. Problem was, he was still a mess from head to toe, and the heat only made it so much worse. He shouldn’t be touching Xie Lian at all right now.

He bristled in shame, and his hands went right back to lightly hovering over Xie Lian’s waist.

“Gege… If I may?” he mumbled. “You probably shouldn’t… touch me right now.”

Xie Lian nearly flew out of their embrace, leaning back all proper with his hands very much kept to himself.

“Sorry!” he said quickly. “I’m sorry. San Lang, you’re—you’re right. You’re not… wearing anything…”

Hua Cheng blinked. Looking down, he remembered that he was still bare, save for his pants.

“It’s not that, I’m just…”

He paused. Feeling bashful all of a sudden, he looked away, scratching at the back of his neck.

“I need a bath,” he admitted.

He couldn’t believe he let that hug go on for as long as he did. He was equally as satisfied as he was mortified.

“Oh… I don’t care about that,” Xie Lian said softly. A second later, he walked his words back, his hands raised in defense. “Not that I don’t care about you! I just mean… I don’t mind, is all. It doesn’t bother me.”

Hua Cheng looked at Xie Lian and flashed him a shy smile. “I know you care,” he murmured.

Finally, Xie Lian smiled back. Hua Cheng’s tenderness seemed to pull an awkward little laugh out of him, too.

With the tension gone, they leisurely worked together to clean up the mess of wet cloths that had fallen from Hua Cheng’s body, tossing them all into an empty bowl after sopping up the water that spilled on the floor. At one point Xie Lian asked Hua Cheng if he still wanted them, but he politely declined. While he still felt hot, it was at least bearable, and he much preferred sitting up and talking with Xie Lian to lying down and sleeping.

He stopped often to help himself to the dish of clean water that he’d drunk from earlier. After that, he shuffled backwards until he bumped up against the wall, and he settled on crossed legs to rest his weary bones. Xie Lian continued to tidy in silence, and before long, Hua Cheng found his eyes slipping shut against his will. He tipped his head back anyway, though, and he listened to the sound of Xie Lian simply existing around him.

Then he realized something, and he sat up much straighter, with his hands politely folded in his lap.

“Gege. I’m sorry.”

Xie Lian stopped shaking the dirt from Hua Cheng’s coat and he turned to him with a puzzled look on his face.

“I know,” he said softly. “You already told me that.”

“No, it’s… I don’t think I’ll be able to finish your garden today,” Hua Cheng said solemnly. “Forgive me.”

Xie Lian stared at him for a frighteningly long time.

Finally, with arms crossed, Xie Lian put on a stern face. “That’s what you’re worried about? San Lang, it’s fine. I don’t care about the garden. Well, I do, but… not as much as I care about you. It can wait until tomorrow. Or next week. Or whenever. You know what? I forbid you from working outside again until it’s cold and cloudy.”

A short, warm laugh burst from Hua Cheng’s chest.

“Does that mean I’m stuck in here with you all day, gege?” he teased. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Xie Lian held Hua Cheng’s coat a little closer to himself as he realized what he’d said.

“Uh… if you want to be,” he mumbled. “I suppose you could go home to Ghost City, if you wanted to…”

Hua Cheng shook his head, tossing his loose hair everywhere.

“I’ll stay,” he said with a soft smile. “If you’ll have me.”

Xie Lian nodded eagerly. He neatly hung Hua Cheng’s coat over a hook, even though it was in dire need of a good wash, and he quietly joined Hua Cheng against the wall, sitting with his legs halfway drawn to his chest.

“You’re always welcome here,” he murmured. “Don’t ever think that you aren’t.”

With that, Xie Lian boldly leaned into Hua Cheng, resting his cheek on his shoulder. Hua Cheng desperately wished he could see Xie Lian’s face right now, as he imagined it must be stuck somewhere between stubbornly well-meaning and viciously shy. But he wasn’t about to try and get a peek. It would surely ruin the moment.

It wasn’t like his own face looked all that different, anyway.

He basked in the quiet attention that Xie Lian paid him, caring very little for how warm he felt. He even stopped worrying about the deplorable state he was in, too, as His Highness apparently didn’t seem to mind one bit. It would’ve been easy for him to get some rest like this, what with Xie Lian tucked so nicely up against him. This time, he actually considered it, as Xie Lian had made it quite clear that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Then, all of a sudden, Xie Lian blurted, “You’re so… hot,” in an unreadable tone.

Hua Cheng couldn’t help but laugh. The mood still felt light, so he teased, “You think so? Thank you, gege.”

A few seconds later, Xie Lian stiffened, though he didn’t move away.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean it like that,” he sputtered. “San Lang, you… y-you keep quiet.”

“As you wish.”

After a great deal of silence and a hefty sigh, Xie Lian stubbornly muttered, “I’m glad you can joke around.”

“I told you, I’m feeling much better,” Hua Cheng said cheerfully. “Gege is an excellent nurse.”

“You aren’t going to do this to yourself again, are you?” Xie Lian asked warily. “You promised me you would be careful after you got that splinter in your finger. What happened there, hm?”

Hua Cheng took a moment to think about it.

“You treated me so well the first time that I thought I would give you a reason to come back,” he said slyly.

“You’re terrible,” Xie Lian muttered. “I’m terrible for enabling you.”

“Then we’re quite a match, aren’t we?” Hua Cheng said softly.