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The manor roof was slick with moonlight. It poured over dark tiles and curled like steam around the arches, catching in the still-lingering lanterns that floated lazily through the ghost-lit city below.
Xie Lian adjusted his cloak at the doors of the study. “I’m going for a walk” he said brightly. “It’s a beautiful night.”
“It’s always night.” Hua Cheng, sprawled over his desk like a defeated general, didn’t look up. His cheek was pressed to a stack of ledgers. “And I have ten more pages of tribute records.”
Xie Lian smiled. “You said twenty just an hour ago. That’s good progress, isn’t it?”
Hua Cheng let out a low whine.
A real one. The kind that might’ve come from a sullen dog denied a treat. It was muffled against parchment and sounded distinctly pitiful. Xie Lian’s shoulders shook with laughter as he walked over and bent at the waist, reaching down with a hand to brush a strand of hair from Hua Cheng’s temple.
“You’re not even doing them. You’re cuddling them.”
“They’re warm” Hua Cheng mumbled. “You’re cruel. Gege is leaving me.”
“I’ll be back soon” Xie Lian promised. He leaned down and kissed Hua Cheng lightly on the cheek. It was soft and chaste and, unfortunately for the paperwork, very effective.
Hua Cheng lifted his head slowly, eyes gleaming in the lamplight, as if waking from a centuries-long sleep. “Do it again.”
“No” Xie Lian said, laughing. “You’ll get ideas and abandon your duties.”
“I should abandon my duties” Hua Cheng muttered, rising from the desk like a shadow growing tall. “What’s the point of being a ghost king if I can’t walk beside my beloved on a peaceful night?”
“You say that as if you didn’t assign yourself these duties.”
“I was tricked.”
Xie Lian slipped to the door, fastening the silver clasp at his collar. “If you finish by the time I return, we can go out again together. But only if.”
Hua Cheng sagged back into his chair, arms crossed. “Unfair.”
“I’ll bring you something” Xie Lian said, stepping out into the indigo-glow of Ghost City. “Something pretty. Maybe a sweet.”
Hua Cheng’s eye softened. “Bring me you.”
Xie Lian blinked—then gave a helpless little laugh and raised two fingers in a mock salute. “Always.”
And with that, he was gone, his white robes disappearing into the dark that welcomed him like an old friend. Behind him, the Ghost King sighed and turned back to the tribute records, lips still carrying the warmth of that gentle kiss.
Ten more pages. For gege, he could endure anything.
------
The moment Xie Lian stepped into the main street, the city swallowed him whole in noise, colour, and the unmistakable scent of something spicy being overcooked.
“Grand Uncle!”
A trio of skeletons waved from a stall absolutely packed with belts and buckles. One of them had a sunflower tucked behind his ear, the other two were fighting over whether leather counted as a summer material.
“Good evening!” Xie Lian called, smiling brightly. “Business is busy tonight.”
“Never stops” one of them grumbled affectionately. “Still waiting on Chengzhu to do something about the taxes on imported goods—”
“Don’t bother Grand Uncle with your nonsense” another snapped. “He’s clearly out shopping for someone special, eh? Picking up something for our Chengzhu?”
“Maybe” Xie Lian said, hand lightly over his lips as he laughed.
That was enough to set off a minor riot.
Vendors shouted over one another, pressing forward with silks and scarves, spools of thread, and embroidered wraps.
Xie Lian tried to thank each one in turn, delicately slipping between their wares with apologies and compliments, and still somehow managed to have two samples of brocade and a glowing ribbon thrust into his arms before he made it five steps.
“Try the Northside Loop” a pale-faced ghost with heavy bandage around his eyes hissed conspiratorially. “There’s a fabric place down there, run by that weird banshee. Good stuff. Curses everything but the hems.”
“You’ll want the opposite end of the market if you’re after pastries” someone else barked from behind a floating lantern. “Human-friendly, you said? That was likely Ma Zhang’s Sweet Bites—but she moves carts every few days.”
“Oh dear.” Xie Lian tilted his head. “That explains it.”
“You want help lookin’?” a brute of a spectre offered, flexing arms that could’ve been carved from night. “We could escort you, Grand Uncle. Keep you safe from rowdy spirits.”
Xie Lian turned to him with a gentle, amused look. “That’s very kind, but I’m quite alright.”
The ghost flushed down to his collarbones and disappeared into a puff of embarrassed smoke.
Unbothered, Xie Lian tucked the glowing ribbon under his arm and started toward the north side of the street, carefully dodging an impromptu dice game and a beetle the size of a dog.
The crowd parted for him without thinking about it. No one made it obvious—they were far too rough-and-tumble for that—but every ghost in Ghost City seemed to know exactly where their Grand Uncle was, and exactly how to make sure nothing unpleasant touched the hem of his robe.
He passed the noodle stands, the opera masks, the fake curse-breakers, the real curse-breakers, the drink vendors singing songs with too many verses—and just before he reached the quieter curve of a side alley, he spotted something familiar: a crooked green lantern hanging low above a doorway shaped like a toothy grin.
That’s it, he thought, that’s the place with the pastries.
Now if only he could find something silky for Hua Cheng too—something soft, maybe silver-threaded, something he’d never buy for himself but would treasure all the more if Gege brought it back wrapped in care.
He smiled to himself and ducked into the alley, the music of Ghost City echoing behind him like a lullaby made of drumbeats and bad decisions.
…The alley stretched longer than he remembered.
He turned another corner—wait, had there been a second bend before?—and the lanterns above grew fewer, the walls more shadow-stained. Still, he could smell something sweet in the air, warm and honeyed, like pastries straight from a fire-licked oven.
It’s just tucked further in tonight, he reasoned. Ma Zhang’s always moving about. I’m sure it’s just around the next bend.
But when he turned, it wasn’t a pastry cart that greeted him.
It was a sign.
A wooden placard, hung lopsidedly above a dark-framed doorway. The paint was old, but it pulsed—not in light, not quite, more like a slow breath. The words shimmered faintly with some unseen pressure, spelling out:
“Path to Enlightenment — One Step to Clarity.”
Xie Lian tilted his head. “That’s…not a bakery.”
But his feet carried him forward.
He didn’t remember choosing to step closer. His body simply followed the pull—a faint buzz in the back of his teeth, a cool hush washing over his thoughts. The air around the doorway shimmered ever so slightly, as though the building exhaled slowly the moment it saw him.
He lifted a hand to the bead curtain, and paused.
Somewhere behind him, Ghost City still roared and laughed. Somewhere behind him, Hua Cheng was probably still sulking into his paperwork. He should turn around.
He should.
The bead curtain parted with a soft chime.
Inside was darkness—but not the heavy kind. This was velvet-dark, deep and smooth, touched with soft golds and faint mist. There was incense in the air, or maybe that was just the scent of the space itself, cool and spiced with something like camphor and tea leaves.
“Welcome” someone whispered, too close and too far all at once.
Xie Lian blinked. His limbs felt very light.
Oh.
Oh, that wasn’t normal.
And then the light shifted. Something glittered in front of him—swinging, softly, left to right.
Drip. Drip. Like water on the inside of his skull.
“Grand Priest” the voice cooed. “Be still. Your mind has carried too many weights. Let us help you unburden.”
The glittering shape swung again. Back and forth. Back and forth.
“You want to remember what it was like before, don’t you? To walk freely. To live without questions.”
Xie Lian swayed faintly on his feet.
Outside, somewhere very far away, Ghost City continued to laugh.
He couldn’t hear it anymore.
The floor dipped beneath his feet—or perhaps he dipped towards it. Xie Lian wasn’t entirely sure when he had sat down, only that he was now nestled in something low and velvety, arms slack in his lap, breath slow and even.
The voice curled around him like steam.
"That’s it" it purred. "You’ve been carrying so much, haven’t you? So many memories… so many little burdens. Why not set them down for a while?"
Xie Lian’s eyes half-lidded. The scent in the air had changed—darker now, laced with something syrupy and cloying, a flower that shouldn’t have bloomed this deep underground.
"You are safe here" the voice continued, somewhere just beside him, close enough that he could feel the words on his skin. "All you need to do is listen. Just listen. That’s easy, isn’t it?"
A glint of silver flashed.
Then again. Back and forth.
It was a pocket watch.
Old, ornate, and dangling from a delicate chain. It swung before him in a perfect arc, impossibly smooth, catching the low lamplight like a whisper of sun off water.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
"Your eyes are getting heavy now…"
They were. His lashes fluttered without his permission.
"It’s so easy to follow, isn't it? Just follow the watch. Left… and right. That’s it. You’re doing so well."
Xie Lian’s thoughts curled like paper in heat. He should’ve stood. Should’ve said something. He had to go get pastries, didn’t he? Something silver for—
Silver?
Tick.
Tock.
"Very good. Let yourself sink. You don’t need to think now. Not unless I tell you to. You trust me, don’t you?"
"…Mmn…" His lips barely moved. He thought he nodded, or imagined nodding. It was hard to tell the difference now.
"Yes. That’s right. You listen when I speak. You obey when I snap my fingers."
Snap.
Xie Lian’s spine straightened slightly. His hands, which had begun to slip from his lap, returned neatly to place.
The voice chuckled, slow and low.
"Excellent. So obedient. So soft. Like wax waiting to be shaped."
The watch kept swinging, but Xie Lian no longer looked at it. His eyes had unfocused entirely, pupils dilated and dark, body pliant as if cradled by unseen hands.
"You don’t need to worry anymore" the voice whispered. "We’ll give you your purpose back. That fire in your chest, remember it? The pain you felt when they all abandoned you? The rage, the betrayal. Let that come back now."
Xie Lian’s breath hitched once. Just once.
Then steadied again.
"That ghost you’ve clung to for so long… you’ve forgotten what he is, haven’t you? What he cost you. What he cost everyone."
Tick.
Tock.
The voice came closer, honeyed and curling like poison through warm tea.
"You don’t need to protect him anymore. You don’t need to love him. You need to end him."
Xie Lian blinked. A slow, silent blink.
"Say it with me, now. I will kill Hua Cheng."
Silence.
The watch swung.
Snap.
Xie Lian inhaled. Then—
“…I…”
He paused. Trembled faintly. A crack, delicate and hair-thin, formed somewhere deep beneath the still water of his thoughts.
“…I…”
The air pulsed around him. The scent thickened. And the voice—steady and cruel—breathed close to his ear:
"Say it."
"I… will…"
But his lips stuck on the next word. Something flickered at the base of his throat, a name he didn’t want to say that way. A memory, stubborn and warm and red.
The person—whoever they truly were—hummed, thoughtful and unhurried, like they were circling the edge of a puzzle they had all the time in the world to solve.
"That’s alright" they murmured, their voice softening into something soothing, almost maternal. "No need to rush. Let’s go deeper, hm?"
The pocket watch drew closer, the arc of its swing shrinking until it filled Xie Lian’s vision entirely. He blinked once, then again, and this time his eyes didn’t flutter shut. They stayed open, wide and dreamy, following the glittering curve like a moth lured to flame.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Each swing brushed against a soft pleasure in his chest, a warm reward that bloomed and pulsed gently, like a flower opening under moonlight.
"Looking at the watch makes you feel good, doesn’t it?"
Xie Lian nodded slowly.
"Every time it moves, it smooths away the noise. The worry. The fear. Every tick melts a thought. You don’t need them. You don’t want them. Just the watch. Just my voice."
His lips parted slightly. A faint breath escaped him, a sigh of such dreamy contentment it could’ve been mistaken for sleep.
"That’s my good boy," the voice crooned. "My soft, obedient little prince. So sweet. So eager to please. You like it when I call you that, don’t you?"
A faint flush crept into his cheeks.
He nodded.
"You like being good. Listening makes you good. Listening feels right."
The voice sank lower, into his very bones.
"You belong to my words now. When I speak, it becomes truth. You don’t have to ask why. You just feel how right it is. Isn’t that easier? Isn’t that better?"
Xie Lian swayed in place, utterly still beneath the movement of the watch. His hands, slack in his lap, had curled around the edge of the seat like he was holding on to something real in a world made of fog. But he was smiling now. Softly. Distantly. As if he were bathing in the warmth of praise and light.
"Say it. I like being a good boy."
"...I like being a good boy" he whispered, as if the phrase tasted like honey on his tongue.
"Good. So good. And good boys do what they’re told, don’t they?"
"...yes."
"You trust me. You believe me. You obey me."
"I obey you."
The voice purred, delighted.
"Then obey this, my darling little prince."
A hand cupped his chin, gently tipping his dazed face up toward the voice. The watch still swung—closer now, closer, as if it could fall into his eyes and make a nest in his mind.
"Say it."
"..."
"Say it proudly, like the good boy you are."
"...I will kill Hua Cheng."
The room did not shudder. No thunder struck. No divine bolt split the dark.
But something, far away and fragile, cracked.
Xie Lian smiled.
And the watch kept swinging.
Xie Lian walked through Ghost City as if the world had been drained of all sound.
The streets still roared—vendors shouted, flames crackled in lanterns, dice clattered, laughter spilled from taverns—but none of it touched him. He passed a child-sized spirit waving a bun in his direction, a stall keeper shouting, "Grand Uncle! I saved the yellow one for you!", and the large ghost from before trying to offer a rose carved from bone.
Xie Lian didn’t look at any of them.
His hands were folded neatly in his sleeves. One hand rested gently around the hilt of a dagger he didn’t remember picking up. It felt warm against his wrist.
You don’t need to protect him anymore. You don’t need to love him.
He walked with purpose, the weight of the watch’s command like silk against his thoughts.
By the time he reached the palace steps, the hush had soaked into his bones. The moonlight caught faintly in his hair as he slipped inside.
The grand hall was quiet. Familiar. Safe.
Hua Cheng was still where he’d left him, leaning over his desk, one hand flipping through a scroll, the other scribbling notes with that distinctive sharp-angled calligraphy. His eye was narrowed in concentration, crimson and unguarded.
He didn’t look up.
Xie Lian blinked slowly.
Then stepped forward.
Soft, deliberate footsteps. Not the casual sweep of someone returning from a walk. No rustling of silks or clatter of purchases. No teasing call of San Lang, look what I found.
Just silence.
And then—
“San Lang” he said, gently.
Hua Cheng looked up.
Immediately, his face softened. “Gege.”
He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. “Welcome home. Took your time, huh? Did you—”
He paused, frowning.
“…Didn’t bring anything back?”
Xie Lian said nothing at first.
Instead, he walked closer, steps slow, deliberate. His head was tilted slightly, lips curved in a soft, unreadable smile. Not the usual one—the bright, open-hearted smile that made even ghosts behave themselves. This one was faint. Secretive. Almost… coy.
Hua Cheng raised an eyebrow. “Gege?”
Xie Lian’s eyes shone in the lamplight, but there was something hazy about them. Like he was looking at Hua Cheng through a veil. Or waiting for something.
“I forgot” Xie Lian murmured. “I got… distracted.”
He took another step forward, then another. His sleeve slipped slightly as he moved—just a glimpse of skin, and the faintest flash of silver.
Hua Cheng didn’t seem to notice. Not yet.
He was still staring at Gege’s face, eyes narrowing slowly now. “Did something happen?”
Xie Lian smiled again. “No” he said. “Nothing at all.”
Then he stepped around the desk and leaned down—so close, his breath brushed against Hua Cheng’s cheek.
"You’ve been working so hard" he said, low and lilting. "Why don’t you let me… help you relax?"
Hua Cheng’s eye flicked down to the robe's shifting fabric, to the pale hands folded calmly in front of him.
And his smile returned, crooked and warm.
“Gege…” he said, leaning into the touch, voice low with affection. “You’re being very…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Because suddenly, something was off.
…Something was wrong.
The breath against his cheek was too measured. The closeness, too calculated. Xie Lian’s body radiated no warmth, no flutter of nervousness or teasing joy. No heartbeat felt against his chest.
Just cold intention. Quiet, still as a trap.
Hua Cheng’s smile faltered.
“Gege” he said again, slower this time. Cautious. “…Are you alright?”
Xie Lian tilted his head, still smiling. But there was no light behind it. Just that same fragile calm, like cracked porcelain barely held together by glaze.
“I’m perfectly alright” he said sweetly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Inside his mind, something ticked.
Be good. Obey. Smile. Kill Hua Cheng. Kill him. Kill him. Kill—
The blade in his sleeve was a ghost of sensation, humming faintly under his skin. As if it had always been there, waiting.
Say it again. Say it with pride. Be the good boy you were made to be.
Xie Lian’s fingers twitched.
Hua Cheng’s eye sharpened.
He reached out slowly, as if to cup Xie Lian’s cheek—but stopped. Inches away. He frowned.
“…Your qi feels different” he murmured. “Who did you speak to today?”
That almost did it.
For a heartbeat, Xie Lian’s breath hitched. Not enough to be noticed by most—but Hua Cheng noticed. He always noticed.
“I don’t remember” Xie Lian said.
Then leaned in.
And kissed him.
A soft, lingering kiss—gentle, seeking, almost reverent. As if nothing in the world existed but Hua Cheng’s lips and the heat of his mouth.
Hua Cheng froze.
He barely had time to react. To feel the kiss. To sink into it like he always did—because Xie Lian never initiated like this. Never kissed him with this kind of raw, focused intent.
And Hua Cheng… was helpless against it.
His eye fluttered shut.
For a moment, he let go.
That was the moment.
The one the watch had been waiting for.
Xie Lian’s hand shifted.
The dagger slipped into his palm, so smooth it felt like it belonged there.
Kill him. Kill him. Good boy. Say it again.
His muscles coiled. The angle was perfect. One thrust, upward through the ribs. He knew how.
He knew.
The blade raised—
And stopped.
Held trembling against Hua Cheng’s chest.
Kill him. Obey. He’s in the way. He ruins everything. He pulls you away. He poisons your mind. He—
“Gege” Hua Cheng whispered again, breathless. “What’s wrong?”
He opened his eye.
Saw the dagger.
Saw the tremble in Xie Lian’s hand. The haunted glaze behind his smile. The quiver of confusion buried too deep to reach.
But he didn’t flinch.
Didn’t move.
Instead, he raised one hand—slowly, gently—and placed it over Xie Lian’s.
Right over the dagger.
“I’m right here” he said, voice low and smooth. "Your highness..?"
Xie Lian’s hand didn’t lower.
Didn’t let go.
It pressed forward.
The dagger pushed shallowly into the fabric of Hua Cheng’s robe—just enough for the cold kiss of steel to meet skin.
Hua Cheng inhaled sharply. His body locked, not from fear, but from calculation.
His mind was racing. Faster than lightning.
He knew his city. Every spirit, every flicker of qi, every eye that dared to watch his gege.
Who had touched him? Who had dared reach into Xie Lian’s soul without Hua Cheng knowing?
Xie Lian’s breath hitched, eyes blank as polished glass.
“Who was it” Hua Cheng murmured, more to himself now than anyone else. “Was it the brothel courtesans? No—they revere him. Was it Green Ghost? No. He wouldn’t dare. Was it…” His eye narrowed. “White-? But he’s been—”
The dagger twitched.
Xie Lian pushed forward again.
A faint bite. A shallow wound. Barely piercing muscle. Blood welled up, rich red and slow.
And Hua Cheng understood.
He understood.
It was a command. A compulsion. Some bastard had wound a chain around Xie Lian’s soul and whispered death like a lullaby.
Kill Hua Cheng.
A divine order, most likely. Cursed into him. Repetition bred obedience. Made thought a battlefield.
And Xie Lian—
His hand trembled, but his eyes didn’t waver.
Hypnotised. Hollow. Not present.
Not really here.
“Gege” Hua Cheng whispered, and let go of the hand.
The dagger slid in, almost soundlessly, up to the hilt.
Xie Lian gasped, but not in horror.
He didn’t react at all.
The command had been completed.
The order, obeyed.
The voice in his mind stilled.
Good boy.
Xie Lian blinked.
The haze didn’t vanish, but it flickered.
The dagger dropped from his hand with a wet clatter. Blood stained his sleeves. Hua Cheng swayed.
And caught himself.
He didn’t fall.
He couldn’t.
Ghosts didn’t die like that.
Not from a dagger.
Not from him.
But he let his body go limp, just enough.
Let himself bleed. Let the illusion settle.
Let Xie Lian think, even for a moment, that he had succeeded.
Because that was what they wanted, wasn’t it?
That was the cruel hook threaded through his gege’s mind. Kill Hua Cheng. Kill him and you’ll be free. Kill him and you’ll be good.
Xie Lian stared at the red blooming on Hua Cheng’s chest.
Wide-eyed.
Blank.
Still not breathing.
But his lips moved.
“…I…” he whispered. “I did it.”
And then he crumpled.
His knees gave out first. Then his shoulders curled inward, arms falling to his sides like they no longer belonged to him.
He knelt in the blood. Hua Cheng’s blood. His blood.
The command was quiet now.
So quiet, it was almost gone.
But Xie Lian was trembling violently, eyes locked on nothing. On something far away. On someone far away.
“Gege” Hua Cheng said softly, kneeling beside him. He didn’t care about the wound. His hand came to rest against Xie Lian’s back, warm despite the pain.
“You did it” he said. “It’s over.”
Xie Lian looked at him slowly. Truly looked at him. And saw the blood. The dagger. The eyes still open and soft with love.
And something—something in him—snapped.
Not the way it had earlier, when the voice had screamed Kill him. Not brittle obedience.
This time, it was grief.
“San Lang?” he choked out.
His voice was thin. Cracked. And finally—finally—his eyes began to fill with tears.
“…What did I do…?”
Hua Cheng pulled him into a tight, blood-slicked embrace.
“You did what they told you” he murmured. “But you’re not theirs. You’re mine. And I’m not letting you go.”
Xie Lian shuddered.
“I… I heard them. I—his voice. Over and over.”
“I know” Hua Cheng said. “I know who it was.”
His eye narrowed. Cold and burning.
Because now he knew.
The taste of the curse was ancient. Divine. Familiar.
There was only one hand that could have reached so deep into Xie Lian’s soul and twisted the blade.
Only one voice that could shape commands like silk and poison.
But he didn’t say it yet.
Instead, he held his trembling gege tighter.
“You did nothing wrong” he whispered.
He leaned close. His lips brushed Xie Lian’s forehead.
“But now it’s my turn.”