Chapter Text
"Wu Ming is resting over in the next room." The disgraced god mumbles to himself, huddled together in a fetal position as he watches the heavy rain fall just outside the temple´s missing front entrance door.
His eyes are unblinking, going both red from the strain and earlier tears.
Yes, Wu Ming is just resting after he took on the vengeful spirits. - He´s understandably exhausted and needs some sleep.
If Xie Lian were to walk on over into the side room of the abandoned temple he found after his second banishment he´d find his ghost soldier peacefully lying on the old straw mat he found inside earlier.
...He´s sure he´d find the wrath there, safe and sound, if only...the brunet went up to go and take a look.
...Something scares him; he doesn´t go take a peek.
He blames the fear on Jun Wu: Seriously, trying to prank him by telling him his most devoted believer is dead - such a juvenile joke!
...Yes, a joke. - Not a very funny one but...just a...joke.
He felt so uncomfortable after that...joke...that the former prince simply had to leave.
Besides! - The heaven´s would give him trouble if he brought Wu Ming with him there or appointed him as his deputy official so leaving was the only choice they had left!
...
"Wu Ming is resting over in the next room." He repeats.
...
He doesn´t fall asleep that night.
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"Guoshi! Who is the one you´re always mumbling about?" his princeling disciple asks, both out of genuine curiosity as well as to put a hold to the poem analyses he´s supposed to write right now.
Fangxin Guoshi folds his arms in front of his chest with an unimpressed look on his face.
"Young princes should worry more so about their duties, not so much their preceptor´s personal lives."
Lan Qianqiu pouts up at him from where he´s seated at the desk, brush still in hand but going unused.
"Oh pleaseeeee, guoshi! It´s so rare to hear anything about you at all that isn´t directly linked to your position!"
The guoshi sighs, putting a palm to his head as if face-palming.
"If I tell you a bit, will you continue without complaint?" He questions tiredly.
The boy perks up with excitement. "Yes!"
Lowering his hand, the masked man softly shakes his head in exasperation. "Then get working; I´ll only talk while you work on your two analysis."
The prince´s expression falls comically fast. "Two?! It was just one before!" He complains desperately.
"Do you want that number to increase to three?" Xie Lian asks with deceptive neutrality that poorly hides his intention to make that number a five.
Hastily, the young Lan Qianqiu returns to the empty scroll in front of him, beginning to write out his thoughts in a speed that make the characters look a little uneven.
Fangxin Guoshi lets out another sigh. "six" He mentally notes but says nothing on the matter to the other for now.
...
Well, a deal´s still a deal however.
He turns to the book shelve on the other side of the room and walks towards it, idly standing in front of it and pretending to read their titles.
...In reality he just wants to have his back turned to the boy so he doesn´t have to look at him while he talks about this.
...He´s not sure why eye-contact bothers him so much in this context.
"I´m speaking of my most trusted person." He begins. The sound of the brush comes to a halt behind him. - The prince must have averted his attention at his back.
Xie Lian doesn´t comment; now that he has begun, the idea of not talking about Wu Ming seems oddly sad.
...Why is that?
"He´s out picking flowers for me right now; he does that every day." The brunet continuous.
"Flowers?" Lan Qianqiu asks a little confused. Who´s his guoshi talking about? - A young love-struck maiden?
Even so, he´s never actually seen anybody bring his teacher flowers...
Xie Lian glides a finger along the spine of a book about flower types and their meanings.
"Correct." He answers, then: a moment of silence.
"I like the flowers he brings me, however,...I´d prefer it if he spend more time with me instead of going flower-picking.
...I miss him so he should return soon."
Lan Qianqiu doesn´t know what to answer so he doesn´t.
...
He ends up having to write seven poem analysis that day.
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The coffin is dark and cramped; the blood oozing out of him makes it feel sticky too.
By now all the oxygin inside has been used and his imprisonment has turned into an unending cycle of dying and being brought back to live before suffocating to death again.
"Wu Ming" He tries to call out hoarsely, chocking on the lack of air instead.
Not good: If he can´t call out to his ghost, how is he going to find him.
...Wu Ming must be so scared right now, wandering around aimlessly outside while looking for Xie Lian.
Sometimes the former god thinks he can hear Wu Ming calling out to his useless attempts at screaming in turn but it always ends up being a figment of his imagination.
...
Wu Ming, Xie Lian wants a hug.
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"You know, Banyue; what you´re describing to be feeling about that boy is very similar to what I feel about /my/ favourite person."
The little girl looks up at him from where she sits beside him as both warm up in front of a fire under the cold starry sky.
"Your favourite person?" She asks quietly, still unused to actually be talked to despite his and that boy´s best efforts.
Xie Lian nods, a small on his face.
"He was there for me at my worst. - Followed me, believed in me, cherished me-" died for me-
He shakes his head to clear his thoughts.
"Even...now, he´s always there when I need him."
The little girl looks at him a little sceptically. Slowly she asks: "Then...where is he right now?"
Xie Lian´s eyes glaze over a little and Banyue notices.
"He´s in my tent. The string on his mask tore so he´s currently repairing it." The brunet happily answers, grinning with closed eyes.
The girl hesitantly nods and turns towards the fire.
All she can think about is how she knows that there can´t be anyone in General Hua´s tent because it got blown away by a sand storm yesterday.
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"Ah...And you are...?" The god politely asks as he sweat drops despite knowing perfectly well who the two sitting in front of him are.
"Nan Yang" Fen Xing replies stoically.
"Fu Yao" Mu Qing answers with an eye-roll, followed by a cocky smirk, smug at having chosen a less obvious under-cover name than the other.
"So you two will accompany me on this mission...?" Xie Lian slowly and somewhat awkwardly asks, just to confirm.
"Duh" Fu Yao answers with furrowed eyebrows.
"Well, how pleasant! Thank you very much for your assistance! Though..." Xie Lian scratches his cheek.
"We´ll have to wait for someone else before we can go investigate."
Nan Yang raises an eyebrow. "Who else are we waiting for?"
"My husband." The white-clad man casually answers, taking a sip from his tea.
"YOUR WHAT?!" Both exclaim so loudly that Xie Lian spits out his tea in surprise.
After knocking on his chest a few times to get out all the liquid that went down the wrong pipe, he carefully answers: "My husband. - He´s out gathering supplies right now. He should be back soon."
The other two gods reluctantly agree to wait after hearing that, itching to interrogate- I means /meet/ that strangely named "Wu Ming" who is apparently their Highness´ new spouse.
They wait for one shichen stick, then two, in that tea house before the martial gods come to the conclusion that Xie Lian played a practical joke on them.
So with some resistance and insistence that "Wu Ming /will/ come!" on the brunet´s part, the two others drag their prince out the door to go deal with that groom ghost debacle.
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Xie Lian sits in that bride divan quietly, surrounded only by the distant howls of the wolves and the dark gloomy forest of this mountain.
Patience waning, he considers that the ghost groom might not come for him at all. - So when he´s about to stand up and go off on his own to find that ghost himself, he´s startled when he suddenly hears footsteps, accompanied by the rattling of silver chains, draw nearer.
He debates sending Ruoye to bind the approaching individual but holds off on the account of his gut telling him so.
A hand reaches inside, palm up in an invitation.
Xie Lian stares at that pale hand for a moment, then breaks out in a wide relieved smile.
Sudden tears prick at the corner of his eyes.
Letting go of a breathe he didn´t know he was holding, he says: "Ah, Wu Ming, you´re back."