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The air was damp, heavy with stone dust. The cavern walls pressed close on every side, the ceiling jagged as if waiting for the slightest excuse to collapse.
Xie Lian sat cross-legged on the ground, smoothing the wrinkles from his sleeve even though his robes were already soiled. He smiled faintly, though his expression held the weariness of several days’ toil. “San Lang, it seems this mission is a little more troublesome than expected.”
Hua Cheng was beside him, one knee bent, one arm across it, his gaze fixed steadily on his gege. The silver chain of his eyepatch glinted faintly in the dim light. “If this place didn’t cut off spiritual powers, it would have been solved yesterday,” he said calmly, as though trapped in a rock chamber with no escape was hardly worth mentioning.
Xie Lian gave a small laugh, rubbing his stomach unconsciously. “True. But we’ll manage somehow.”
Just then, a soft, low sound broke the quiet - *gurgle*.
Xie Lian froze. Hua Cheng looked over instantly, his eye narrowing.
“…Gege.”
Xie Lian cleared his throat, pretending nothing had happened. “Ah. Just a little hungry.”
He opened the pouch by his side, producing their last ration: a ball of plain white rice wrapped in cloth. The sight of it almost made his mouth water. He unwrapped it carefully - then, just as he was about to hand half to Hua Cheng, the cloth slipped.
The rice ball tumbled to the ground.
Both of them stared at it.
The stone floor was damp with grit and dust, patches of moss and gravel scattered about. The rice ball landed with a soft *plop*, breaking slightly on impact, a few grains scattering.
For a long moment, there was silence.
Hua Cheng moved immediately, reaching out. “Gege -don’t.”
But Xie Lian was already crouching, brushing at the rice ball with a little too much eagerness. “It’s only the bottom part that touched the ground. The top’s still clean, see?”
He lifted it and, before Hua Cheng could stop him, took a large bite.
The sound of teeth breaking through rice echoed far louder than it should have in the cavern.
Hua Cheng’s eye darkened. His hand twitched, but he didn’t snatch it away - he never forced his gege. Instead, his voice was low, almost pained. “Gege…”
Xie Lian chewed earnestly, swallowed, and smiled as though it were the finest delicacy. “It’s not bad. Really, San Lang”
His stomach betrayed him again with a loud growl.
This time Hua Cheng looked away, his fingers curling against his knee. His lips pressed into a thin line, as if it physically hurt him to watch. He was Hua Cheng, Ghost King of Ghost City, who could summon mountains of gold with a flick of his sleeve, who could conjure the rarest delicacies with a word - yet here, in this suffocating cavern, with his powers sealed, he could not even offer a proper meal to the person he cherished most.
He said nothing, only lowered his lashes.
Xie Lian, seeing this, hesitated. He licked the corner of his lip thoughtfully, then suddenly brightened. “Wait-”
He dug into the inner sleeve of his robe and, after a moment of rummaging, pulled out a small, flattened bun.
His eyes widened with delight, as though he had discovered buried treasure. “I forgot about this! Look, San Lang- we still have this bun.”
Just as he held it up with triumph, the ground beneath them rumbled.
The walls groaned, the ceiling cracked. A sudden quake surged through the cavern, shaking it violently. Rocks broke free above them, tumbling down.
“Gege!”
Before Xie Lian could steady himself, the tremor sent him stumbling. Hua Cheng darted forward instantly, catching him in his arms. At the same time, Rouye shot out like a snake, coils of silk snapping into place around them to cushon their fall and the other end, making away rocks and degrees that would have fallen on top of them, shielding their bodies from the shower of falling debris at the speed of light.
But even Rouye’s protection could not save everything.
The bun slipped from Xie Lian’s hand.
Time seemed to slow as both of them watched it tumble, bounce once, twice, then roll into the dirt and gravel.
When the quake finally passed, silence fell again. Rouye uncoiled and returned to Hua Cheng’s wrist. The cavern was darker now, a fine mist of dust drifting down from the ceiling.
Xie Lian bent at once, retrieving the bun. He dusted it carefully against his sleeve, brushing every speck as if it were some precious jewel. Then, holding it with both hands, he lifted his gaze toward Hua Cheng.
For a moment, he didn’t move. His lips parted as though to bite, then closed again. His hesitation was clear.
Hua Cheng understood immediately.
He reached out, taking the bun gently from Xie Lian’s hands. With utmost care, he dusted it again, slower, more meticulous, as though every crumb mattered. Then he held it out with both hands, his head slightly bowed.
“Gege,” he said softly. “It’s clean. Please eat.”
Xie Lian blinked. “…But San Lang-”
Hua Cheng’s eye softened, though his voice was firm. “You must be full. Let me.”
Xie Lian wanted to laugh, but something in Hua Cheng’s expression stopped him. That single silver eye carried quiet distress, a shadow of helplessness.
For eight hundred years, Xie Lian had eaten worse than this - food trampled on the ground, food scrounged from garbage, food that could hardly even be called food. But Hua Cheng, who had only ever wanted to place the best of everything before him, could not bear to see him do so again.
Xie Lian hesitated no longer. He smiled, leaned forward, and took a bite.
The bun was dry, a little stiff, faintly gritty from the cavern floor. Yet in that moment, it was sweet as honey.
Hua Cheng watched him eat, his shoulders easing only slightly. His hands clenched at his sides, the thoughts in his chest unspoken.
Forgive me, Gege. Here, I cannot give you more. But once we are out-
In his heart, Hua Cheng swore silently.
Once we are out, I will bring you every delicacy under heaven. The finest dishes, the freshest fruits, the sweetest pastries. Whatever you want, whenever you want. Never again will you go hungry, never again will you lower yourself to eat fallen food. I will place the world before you, if only so you need not pick up crumbs from the dirt.
Xie Lian licked a stray grain from his thumb, looked at Hua Cheng, and smiled with eyes curved like crescent moons. “Thank you, San Lang.”
That smile - unfazed, bright, utterly unbothered by circumstance - struck Hua Cheng deeper than any blade.
He lowered his gaze, voice low, reverent, like a vow:
“For Gege…anything.”
The cavern was still, but in that silence, the bond between them was brighter than the fiercest flame.