Work Text:
Five hundred and eight years. Hua Cheng was not in a good mood. He’d returned to his wretched city to sit at the gambler’s den, watching fools lose limbs, life, relics, and fortune to their greed and luck. He was hoping to drag some amusement out of it, but it was proving just another waste of time. He both had time to waste and was taking too much time on frivolous diversions. He would drive himself mad again if he didn’t do something, though, between leads as he was. For an hour now, he’d decided to start taking bets personally, demanding more and more dreadful fates to the losers. He allowed the occasional boon, but today he wasn’t feeling particularly inclined to such a thing, passing up any of the more boring bets.
He didn’t feel any better. He was about to call it quits and return to his residence after the last human man had been dragged off screaming obscenities. His posture shifted to stand from his seat, and then a commotion began throughout the crowd.
“Hey! Don’t shove me!”
“Wait yer turn!”
“What a rude child you are.”
Through the crowd shoving and elbowing ghosts apart came a flash of white. Hua Cheng tipped his head. He’d learned not to get his hopes up, but his frown twitched when he identified white cultivator robes on the figure who lurched to the front of the betting table. His skin prickled upon seeing the familiar hairstyle, that half bun His Highness preferred. When the figure looked up, he felt a little weary. Bright eyes that caught the light in the same shade of honey brown that he always painted, always kept in his memory stared up towards his curtains. So struck by those eyes, he hardly noticed the rest of the figure until they spoke.
“Please allow me to place a bet before you leave, Lord Chengzhu.”
The voice was all wrong. Clear as a bell and surely lovely in its own right, but the voice was that of a woman’s, with a slight, indiscernible accent. Definitely not one from XianLe. He squinted. From this distance, it was hard to make out all of their features, but Hua Cheng felt like a fool. Their form was too slight, too short. Their hair was an inky black and not at all like the deep umber he had etched in his soul. In retrospect, those eyes which so struck him may not be terribly common a color, but the color wasn’t uncommon, either.
Even with this, looking at them still made some bit of him feel a little…something? He wasn’t quite sure. Not unpleasant. Almost fond, like seeing a child learning to walk, in some strange way.
“What is it that you’re seeking?” He asked, crossing his arms. He would entertain them in their bet if it wasn’t too absurd.
The young woman straightened herself and took a deep breath.
“I need help to find my father. That’s all.”
Hua Cheng shrugged. She wasn’t the first person, human, ghost, or demon, who had come seeking a lost friend or family member. One of the few noble reasons the desperate came to the gambler’s den. Usually if the gambler won, all this would entail was setting them up with a private investigator or the coin to hire one nearer to where the lost person disappeared. Rarely did he take these sorts of bets, however.
“And your wager?” he asked.
The woman stared at her hands for a moment before raising her head once more.
“I don’t have much of value, but I have a great many skills. I can work. I’ll offer twenty years of my life in service to ghost city should I lose.”
Hua Cheng scoffed. This girl didn’t seem to be much older than twenty, herself, maybe twenty-five, so naïve. He did suppose the city always needed more indentured servants. Just last month, three chefs quit after Blackwater came to deliver a set of scrolls and overstayed his welcome, cleaning out the larder. He nodded to the croupier.
“High role wins,” they told the girl, in case she had only just arrived. Hua Cheng decided not to influence the girl’s luck, he would just let this play out however it may. The girl closed her eyes after she was handed the dice cup. She blew out a calm breath, shook the cup and rolled. What landed was a four and a five. Nine was a reasonably high number, but Hua Cheng had been rolling no less than tens today. He was given the cup, and rolled. When he lifted it he was a little amused by the result.
A two and a six. This girl had pretty good luck, after all.
The girl had been stretching her neck to see the results, and when she did, her shoulders released their tension and she smiled, clutching her no doubt pounding heart. The noise of the crowd afterwards would surely give him a headache, so he stopped taking bets soon after the girl was escorted into a private room to get details of her win. He exited out a side door and had barely stepped foot off the next block when a voice came into his head.
“Chengzhu, you may want to return to the gambler’s den.”
Hua Cheng pinched the bridge of his nose.
“If this is for another brawl, I am cutting your pay, Waning Moon.”
“It isn’t, my lord. It’s about that girl in white that wants to locate her father…” The Waning Moon Officer paused, “She is claiming her father uses the name ‘Xie’ and…other details about her are very…suspect.”
Hua Cheng clenched his jaw. He had too many thoughts to process in that moment, but the main one was that he didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he also didn’t want to take any chances.
“Don’t let her out of your sight.”
As he marched back, his head was a mess of what-if scenarios. What if she was some fraud sent to irritate him? What if she was genuine? What did that mean? What if his God had found love in another and had a child? Could he have an entire family while he was searching for him. He hoped he had been happy. As much as it would tear him up for his God to have moved on, it had been over five centuries, and he deserved everything in this world. He deserved to have found love, and to have loved a child, a child who was willing to give up precious years to find him. That would also mean he was missing, then. Perhaps they had only been briefly separated and he was well wherever he was, but darker thoughts haunted Hua Cheng. Darker thoughts had always haunted him. The girl wasn’t looking for her ‘parents’ it was only one father. Why only one? Did he even have a spouse, or had some wretch left him to raise a child alone. Had the spouse dared to die and not stick around as a ghost as Hua Cheng did? They didn’t deserve him. Hell, Hua Cheng didn’t even have a right to be with him, but he still would stay and pro--
When he neared the private room, his thoughts trickled to a stop. Inside the room, he could distinctly detect two presences. One was clearly a human, borrowing a little ghost Qi, but otherwise normal. Even breath, normal heartbeat. That was his officer. The other’s presence was…different. Some cultivators could slow their heart rate, but this heartrate seemed too low, almost like the person was deeply asleep. Then, their aura. It’s true that women have more yin energy, but this was…a bit much for a human, and it didn’t seem to be influenced by borrowed Qi from a ghost. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Without knocking, he entered the private room. Yin Yu stood at attention beside the door, and the girl bowed her head.
“Stand up,” Hua Cheng commanded, and the girl brushed down her skirts before lifting her head. Hua Cheng controlled his expression but he couldn’t help but stare at the features of her face now that he was closer to her.
There was…
There was very little doubt in Hua Cheng’s mind. He scanned for evidence that this was a false skin, a clone, but he found none. All he could see were the traces of His Highness’s features in hers. The gentle slope of her nose, the shape of her cheekbones, not to mention the color of her eyes. Her hair was ink black, but he could see the fine texture of it, and how she wore it in that particular way to give the thin expanse of it more volume. There were plenty of features that differed, the shape of her eyes were tapered in the way some referred to as fox-like. Her chin was a little more pointed. The parts of her that didn’t look like His Highness almost looked…familiar. But enough of her features were similar that even Yin Yu must have noticed immediately, having so many of Hua Cheng’s paintings to go by.
Hua Cheng’s heart gave an unnecessary beat. Something cold grew in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t decipher it.
“You said you were looking for your father?” He prompted.
She bowed again and began to give more details about her situation. She and her father have scheduled meetings every so often, to catch up and enjoy each other’s company. Her father was very late, and she couldn’t find any trace of him.
“How late, exactly? It’s a waste of both our times if it’s a few days,” he said acting as if he were bored.
She hesitated.
“Longer than…” she trailed off, gaze dipping to her feet.
Hua Cheng huffed.
“You wouldn’t be the first immortal cultivator in my city. We even get gods and--” perhaps this was too leading a suggestion but-- “banished gods. It makes no difference to me, so just say it.”
She looked back up, surprised. She pursed her lips then continued.
“Six years. Sometimes we travel together for a few years, but we’re both pretty independent people. Whenever we part, we set up a meeting. We usually meet up every decade, indicate the direction we’re heading, and select a location to meet again in ten years’ time. Sometime’s we’re late by a few months, but we agree to hang around for a while in the town, and we’ve never missed a meeting. Except this last time. I waited for five years. I haven’t seen baba in sixteen years, and I’m so worried about him.”
Hua Cheng glanced at Yin Yu, his masked face impassive, but his thumb rubbing at his hand nervously where they were tucked behind his back.
“And how do you know your father hasn’t died?”
The girl looked up, blinking as if the suggestion were absurd. Hua Cheng lifted a brow. She almost chuckled through her next words despite the situation.
“He, um, he is, very sturdy. No, he-he definitely wouldn’t have died.” She was biting her lip.
Perhaps because he couldn’t die? Hua Cheng’s gaze became unfocused, and his officer shifted his stance.
“Remind me of his name?” Yin Yu took over.
She nodded. “The last name he went by was Hua Xie.” Like the ‘Hua’ in flower crowned martial god.
“But that’s an alias. Does he have any other names he goes by?” Yin Yu stood straighter. The girl swallowed thickly, glancing from The Waning Moon Officer, who had taken over questioning from the City Lord, who was staring at the wall behind her.
“A few, notably, Fangxin, Hua Lian and…Xie Lian.”
The girl, Xie Jihua, was only fairing marginally better in the summer sun than Hua Cheng, but he didn’t dare waste any time waiting for nightfall before setting out. She hadn’t complained once, nor did her steps falter or slow, unlike his own a few times. She still looked about as miserable as he felt, from the heat, and the gnawing anxiety over their current lead towards Xie Lian--who he felt certain was HIS Xie Lian.
“My father is so kind, I don’t understand why he…” she mutters beside the ghost king. A thousand butterflies are scouring the desert outside the YongAn capital.
“It’s no guarantee that he was, just that he has a similar description and name.” He hopes that guoshi wasn’t His Highness, or else he’s suffered a horrific fate. Even if it were him, he’d definitely had some reasons he hadn’t told, but Hua Cheng really, really hoped this Fangxin character was someone else.
“We’ll find him.” Hua Cheng’s voice is soft, glancing at the young woman. She nearly startled the first time he used this tone, but he couldn’t help but be gentle with his God’s child. Then, that cold feeling in his mind had sprouted in his chest when he looks at her. Things he both does and doesn’t want to see in her. Her nails are just a little thick and more pointed than most human’s. Her skin is a little more pale, almost sickly. Her ears really are a little too pointed near the tops. She’s clearly alive, with a heartbeat and a temperature of any other human but the pulse is so slow.
Then there’s other things. She offhandedly mentioned being born near Lang-Er Bay, the place she met her father twenty-six years prior. When he’d asked about her other parent, she was incredibly vague, saying she was raised by Xie Lian alone. A pit settled into his stomach then. Had her other parent left Xie Lian? Died?
“Both, you miserable wretch,” said a dark voice inside his head. There were things he was trying to deny about this Xie Jihua. The initial familiarity of the features which didn’t quite match Xie Lian’s nagged at him. How could the features of her other parent be familiar to him? Then he studied the arch of his own eyebrow in the reflection of his scimitar. He had swiftly stuffed E-Ming away afterwards.
The pair of them were making slow progress in the sun as it neared midday, where his butterflies were scouting around at a better pace. He made the decision to rest in the shadow of what was probably an old barn. Xie Jihua sat on the edge of a broken fence and pulled a weathered paper fan from her sleeve. Hua Cheng leaned against the wall. He closed his eye, focused on the butterflies.
“Is that your true form?” Xie Jihua asked after some minutes. Hua Cheng’s eye opened and he arched a brow. She was studying him with a curious expression on her face, slowly fanning herself. Hua Cheng closed his eye again, just one, because yes, he had set off in his true form.
“Could be. Could just as well be the one I was wearing last night. Is that yours?”
He heard her sigh. She didn’t answer. It felt like they were walking around a certain point, but she felt comfortable around him to not take his every word as an order. He saw through one nearby butterfly how she ran a hand through her hair. She had a delicate widow’s peak in her hairline, which meant one of her parents probably had one too.
Hua Cheng stiffened. One of the butterflies had found an unmarked burial chamber. Inside was an immense coffin. It was covered in years of grime and debris from the open tunnel, but it looked untouched otherwise.
“You found him,” Xie Jihua said, standing abruptly. Hua Cheng gave a single nod.
“No…” Xie Jihua breathed as the both of them scrambled into the chamber. Butterflies lit the inside, but it was still dim beneath the mound. She struggled with the stone lid before Hua Cheng reached it, hefting it up and away. Together they tore off a second lid, a ghastly scent making Xie Jihua cough. Old blood and decay. Moldy wood. Under the third lid lay a fresh corpse. Fresh, because His Highness couldn’t die. But he could bleed. That blood had pooled and dried, soaking into the wood.
And it was undoubtedly His Highness. Just by his form, Hua Cheng would know him anywhere. No false hope when he saw his God’s child who so resembled him.
“Father..?” The girl whispered, sounding so small, so young. She reached up and tore the silver mask off. Hua Cheng had flinched to stop her, but this was Xie Lian’s daughter. She loved him, too.
“Baba!” she cried, cradling his face. “You’re going to be alright, baba, I’m here, I’m going to take care of you.” Hua Cheng felt numb. He felt too much. He stared at the stillness of His Highness’s face before his gaze was drawn to the dowel embedded in his chest. His hand hovered over it, deciding how to extract it as swiftly and painlessly as possible.
“What did they do to you, baba?” Tears dripped down her chin. Hua Cheng would undoubtedly cry as well, but later.
The body jerked. Eyes opened to slits.
“It’ll probably be some time before he regains full consciousness,” the doctor said, tail swishing nervously, “but he’s healing.”
Hua Cheng sat on the bed at His Highness’s feet. Xie Jihua sat in a chair beside the bed, holding her father’s hand and reading the doctor’s notes on his care. Hua Cheng’s gaze drifted from Xie Lian’s finally peaceful face to that of Xie Jihua’s. They really did look alike. Her eyes scanned the pages up and down, and Hua Cheng’s watched her eyes. The last detail he didn’t want to face was yet another detail of those eyes. Honey brown irises, fox-like shape, and then their black centers; oblongs, only noticeably vertical slits in bright sun, like a cat’s. Like E-Ming’s.
“You said you were born near Lang-Er Bay?” He asked, brain not quite catching up to his mouth. She nods without lifting her eyes.
“When was this? How old are you?”
She smiles, but continues reading. “It‘s impolite to ask a lady her age, Lord Chengzhu.”
Hua Cheng cringes at her use of his title. If he’s correct, then the title is too much. Why is he asking such a question.
“Do you know the name of your other parent?” He needs to know.
Finally, she lifts her gaze to his. She pointedly sets the papers in her lap, and her face goes deliberately unreadable. It’s a personal question, one he’s asked two separate ways, and the first time her answer was so vague. It’s likely a sore subject. It’s definitely a sore subject.
“I think we both know.”
A heartbeat.
“He goes by Hua Cheng now.”
Hua Cheng Jolts. “I am so sor--”
“Don’t apologize.” She shakes her head. “As I understand it, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
This is maddening. Of course he did. He’s never actually done anything right in his life--in his afterlife, either. He was born a cursed brat of a child, who grew into a cursed wretch of a man, who died and became a cursed fiend to heaven and earth and mostly, explicitly, the one he loved so dearly.
“I left him! I left you…”
“You saved him,” she declares firmly, as if she were the parent in this situation, “you saved both of us. What I was told was that you gave your life to save his. His and mine. I would have never been allowed to be born if you didn’t do what you had.”
He purses his lips into a thin line.
“I didn’t even know he was carrying you. Five hundred years and I never knew I had a daughter.”
“That’s not your fault…father.” She frowns at the last word, like testing out a brand new flavor one hasn’t yet figured out if they like.
“If you’re going to blame anyone for what went wrong, blame Bai Wuxiang. Because baba always--”
A groan surprises the both of them, directing their attention to the bed, where Xie Lian is blinking his eyes open. In an instant both of them are leaning over him, gauging his awareness.
“Baba?”
Xie Lian smiles a little dazedly.
“My lucky girl,” he croaks. She fusses over him, brushing back his hair and fluffing his pillow. She tells him that he’ll be alright, that she gets to take care of him this time. Xie Lian obviously isn’t taking all this in, barely conscious, when his eyes drift over to Hua Cheng. She follows his gaze.
“I…I met Wuming, baba.”
“I miss Wuming, my beloved…” He mumbles before he drifts back off.
The streets of Ghost City are noisier and rowdier than usual, but it’s for a good reason, today. Their one and only city lord got married! It’s not so much that he got married as much as it is how good his mood has been since he found a partner. When their ghost king is happy, the whole city can feel it, and the air has never felt lighter. Nobody quite knows where the charming, witty, beautiful prince (because what else could he be but a prince?) came from, but everyone is overjoyed to even catch a glimpse of him.
There’s rumors, there’s always rumors, but the one that’s most widely spread is that the beautiful prince was someone who was smitten with their king when he was still alive (or newly formed, details vary) and ran away together to begin a family. However, a cruel twist of fate, possibly a curse, separated the pair, leaving their king on the brink of dispersal, and his lover in a delicate condition to wander the world, both forever faithful, forever searching for the other. Oh, what luck that they were finally reunited, and how surprising was it that along with the prince, came a little princess borne from their true love!
Not everyone believes the rumors. After all, no one has ever heard of a ghost fathering a child with a human--immortal cultivator or no. The princess sure looked like many of their Chengzhu‘s skins, though, so there wasn‘t really any doubt he fathered her. Yes, one must never take any rumors at face value, but this promising one makes for quite the romantic tale!
Xie Jihua rubbed her cheeks as she watched her father--fathers--danced in the square together. It had been so many years since she had seen her baba smile so brightly and laugh so much, she wondered if his cheeks were hurting as much as her own. When they settled down to a meal, she sidled up beside them to wrap them in a hug. She and Hua Cheng were still a little awkward around one another, but they were finding more and more they had in common, much to Xie Lian’s distress. He never had been able to teach her calligraphy well. It was apparently a genetic trait, they discovered.
Awkward though they were, they were family. Her baba had told her every day when she was young how much he loved his Wuming, and she had grown to love him through stories alone. Hua Cheng seemed to cycle through a lot of emotions very fast upon confirming who she was to him, likely worried how one could even split their devotion to her baba. He hadn’t had the stories to go off, but she knew Xie Lian was telling him every single embarrassing childhood story of hers.
“Congratulations on your marriage, Baba…Diedie? I’m still not sure what to call you,” she shot a sheepish smile to Hua Cheng.
“What did gege call me in the stories?”
Xie Lian’s face began to flush just as Xie Jihua smirked.
“We just called you ‘my other baba’ but that doesn’t sound right now that I’ve met you.” Xie Lian rubbed the space between his brows.
“Well maybe you’ll figure it out by the time you give me a sibling. That’ll be soon, right?”
Xie Lian just shooed her over to a food stall, not even wasting the energy to be embarrassed. She was glad he was safe and whole. During his initial recovery, she and Hua Cheng had discussed the matter of Xie Lian’s bad luck, and how after the recent events, he should always have a good luck charm as a chaperone. Well, Hua Cheng wouldn’t agree when she put it like that, but unlike Hua Cheng, she had fewer qualms about always listening to whatever Xie Lian wanted, she had been a preteen raised by him, after all. They were both stubborn as mules. For the time being, she thought her baba seemed content to remain in Ghost City, in Paradise Manor, and she was too.