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The first time they met, Xie Lian was fourteen.
It wasn’t a clear day, he recalls. The skies were dark with a storm coming in, and the wind was harsh. Xie Lian had been on a walk through the market, supervised by a few guards, and disguised enough that nobody would recognize him. He had begged his parents to let him go out, just for a little while—staying inside the castle all the time was killing him. He just wanted to get some fresh air; to observe how everyone else went about their everyday lives, and get a small taste of freedom.
Pure white wings tinged with gold were tucked snugly around Xie Lian’s waist beneath his cloak. A sign of royalty, anyone would tell you. He wasn’t to let anyone see those wings, no matter what; if the wrong person got their hands on him, they were bound to do unspeakable things to acquire those feathers. That was what his mother was always telling him, and it was one of the reasons she never wanted him to even go out into the courtyard, lest the wrong person see and take advantage of a young prince all alone.
Unfortunately, there was only so much his mother could do to keep Xie Lian in one place. He was a growing boy, and he needed to be allowed to spread his wings here and there—metaphorically, of course. He knows well enough that he shouldn’t do that in public.
Despite how dreary it was outside, Xie Lian was thrilled. Seeing everyone in the streets, bustling even through the chill in the air, was enough to have him practically bouncing in place. Feng Xin, accompanying him at his side, had to continuously remind him not to be too energetic, though his words had little effect on the prince.
Xie Lian tried not to be too hasty in his movements, but he couldn’t help it. Eventually, one way or another, he was separated from Feng Xin and the other few guards lingering around. He was far too entranced to notice, however, instead continuing on his merry way through the streets, admiring anything and everything he crossed by.
Of course, this could only last so long with the storm rolling in. It wasn’t long before Xie Lian felt a drop of water against his nose, to which he blinked, his gaze tilting up towards the sky. It was like after that one drop, every other one followed, and any people remaining in the market were quickly scrambling for shelter, closing up shop without a second glance towards any customers in line.
Beneath his cloak, Xie Lian’s wings twitched, feathers quivering from the chill of the rain soaking through the fabric. He tugged on his hood, looking around frantically, but he couldn’t see anyone that he knew—there were too many people around him, bumping and shoving one another to get inside. There was no way he would be able to spot Feng Xin like this.
With a shuddered breath, Xie Lian made the decision to seek shelter now, and find his way back later. He did his best to push through the crowd, but it wasn’t without its difficulties; he nearly fell several times, and someone stepped on his foot once or twice. It was somewhat agonizing, especially considering Xie Lian didn’t know his way around the city very well. He could only hope to himself that his mother wouldn’t ban him from walking around the market entirely after something like this happened.
The sound of shouting took Xie Lian’s attention away from trying to escape the storm. Upon inspection, the noise came from a group of older boys, all crowding beneath a stall to stay dry from the rain. They were yelling at a young boy who was clearly just trying to seek shelter as well, shoving him out of the way so hard that he fell backwards into a muddy puddle. The sight made Xie Lian’s blood boil.
Xie Lian rushed over, pushing more firmly through the last few people lingering outside in his way to get to the young boy. He wasn’t moving much, just sitting defeated in the puddle, and Xie Lian’s heart ached for him—if only he had gotten here just a minute sooner, he could have stopped him from getting hurt.
Kneeling before him, Xie Lian offered him a hand. “Are you alright?” he asked, taking in the boy’s appearance. It looked like he had already been hurt before this as well, sporting bandages over his face and arms, clothes dirty and ragged. Xie Lian hated it. “Come on. Let’s get out of the rain.”
The boy didn’t move much in response. He lifted his head slightly to acknowledge Xie Lian’s presence, but the look in his eyes was defeated and tired. Xie Lian noted that there were small, black wings at the boy’s back, just as soaked as the rest of him, and it looked like they were bandaged as well. Everything about this made Xie Lian’s hand tremble where it was outstretched towards him.
With the lack of response, Xie Lian decided to take action instead. Leaning forward, Xie Lian scooped the boy into his arms, ignoring the resounding yelp of protest he received. He adjusted the boy to be comfortable, before running off in the opposite direction of the older boys who had shoved him, eventually finding his way into a small, run-down and deserted temple for shelter.
Only once confirming the place was empty and dry did Xie Lian set the boy down. He pushed the hood off of his own head, shaking his hair out to rid himself of at least a little bit of the dampness before kneeling before the child once again. Xie Lian gently rested his hands on the boy’s arms, inspecting him to see just how bad his injuries were.
It wouldn’t do well for him if he were to get sick in addition to his injuries. Xie Lian looked around the small temple, chewing on his bottom lip, before his eyes spotted a roughed up blanket in the corner—good enough. He quickly guided the boy over to it, seating him on some cushioning left out by whoever was here last, and wrapping him snugly in the blanket to keep him warm.
“I don’t have anything to ease your injuries—I’m sorry,” Xie Lian frowned, bringing a hand up to brush the boy’s hair out of his face. His visible eye, Xie Lian noted, had a little more life in it now—he was staring at Xie Lian, wide-eyed and curious. “Is that warm enough for you? Ah, no, of course it’s not. You’re freezing! Here, I can help.”
Shucking off his cloak, Xie Lian ignored the echoes of his mother’s words in his head in favor of wrapping his wings around himself and the boy beside him, tucking him into his side to keep him warm. Xie Lian rested his chin on the top of the boy’s head, letting out a soft sigh once settling in comfortably enough.
It would have to do for now. The storm clearly wasn’t going to let up anytime soon, so there was no way to get them anywhere of more significant warmth.
It was quiet for a long while before either of them shifted. The boy moved first, squirming a little in Xie Lian’s arms, so he eased up his grip a little, peering down at him. That big, round eye stared back at him once more, dark in color, yet shining with a light that wasn’t present before. Xie Lian smiled at him, tilting his head as though questioning why he moved.
The boy only blinked, not saying a word. Xie Lian took that as his own time to speak for now. “Does anything hurt?” he asked, frowning at all the bandages adorning the child’s body. It looked like he’d been suffering for a while now. “If I’m holding you too tightly, I can let go. I don’t want to aggravate your injuries.”
As he moved to pull away, though, the boy made a noise of discomfort, scrambling to grasp at the front of Xie Lian’s clothes. Xie Lian stared, confused, before letting out a soft huff in fondness, allowing the boy to stay pressed up as close as possible to him.
“I’ll assume you’re alright, then,” he murmured, gently placing a hand upon the boy’s back. The boy still said nothing, but he clung to Xie Lian harder, and that was enough confirmation for him. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
And he kept that promise. Until the rain stopped, Xie Lian didn’t let go of the boy. He kept him close, making quiet, one-sided conversation with him while keeping him warm. The storm lasted long enough that Xie Lian could feel himself dozing, but he did his best to stay awake—Feng Xin was sure to be searching for him as soon as the weather cleared, so he couldn’t afford to sleep through any calls for him he might hear.
Sure enough, as soon as the rain stopped, Xie Lian could hear several voices shouting out your highness in search of him. Xie Lian forced himself to shake off any tiredness remaining, gently laying the boy down—who did fall asleep—on the cushions beneath them, making sure he was comfortable.
As soon as he did that, Feng Xin, followed closely by Mu Qing, found the temple, and nearly shouted the moment he saw Xie Lian. Xie Lian had to scramble to shush Feng Xin, gesturing wildly to the boy sleeping beside him. Feng Xin looked as though he wanted to protest considering how long Xie Lian had been missing, but one firm look from the prince was enough to keep him from shouting too loudly.
Once Xie Lian was certain his friends would stay quiet, he laid his cloak over the boy beside him, a second layer to the blanket already on him. Another thing Feng Xin wanted to protest, as people would clearly see the crown prince was out and about right now, but Xie Lian still didn’t care; he just wanted to keep this one boy comfortable after everything he had been through today, and probably long before this, too.
With hushed goodbyes, Xie Lian allowed himself to be dragged out by Feng Xin, scolded all the way back to the castle. He just laughed, taking it in stride even as Mu Qing joined; he knew his friends were just concerned for his health, so it didn’t bother him. Plus, he had the opportunity to spread his wings for real now, shaking them out to relieve the stiffness from having not moved for so long and ignoring any long stares from the people in the market. He was protected now, so there wasn’t anything he really needed to worry about.
Back in the temple, the boy remained curled up beneath the blanket and cloak, carefully clutching a feather against his chest like the most precious treasure—one of pure white, fading into a shimmering gold.
The second time they met, Xie Lian was sixteen.
This time, his trip to the market was not accompanied by anyone. He had snuck out today on a whim—he was sure to be reprimanded beyond belief when he returned home, but he couldn’t be bothered to think about that right now. With him getting older, more political talks were coming his way, and more pressure from his father that felt suffocating; all he wanted to do was practice the sword, and there was no way he could do that if he was trapped inside all day.
So, with sword in hand, Xie Lian quietly made his way out of the castle to find his way somewhere that he could train.
Unfortunately for him, there weren’t many places within the castle walls that he could go undetected. Still, though, Xie Lian refused to go back defeated; he wandered through the streets, blending in with everyone else and smiling cheerfully in greeting to the vendors he passed by. It took some time, but he found his way to what looked to be a training ground—nothing fancy, per se, but there were a few people here and there practicing their skills, whether on dummies or dueling each other with fake swords.
The sight had Xie Lian lighting up. He strayed off to the side at first, taking some time to observe rather than join in on the fun. He couldn’t just come in out of nowhere, not when the people here all seemed to know each other. And observing from the sidelines was just as enjoyable as swordfighting himself. He could gain plenty of insight just from watching.
Still, Xie Lian’s feathers fluttered in excitement beneath his cloak the longer he watched. He was feeling rather antsy, squirming in place no matter how much he tried to assure himself he was perfectly fine just watching. It wasn’t his place to hop in! This was better than finding nothing at all on his little adventure, really…
Of course, though, right when Xie Lian was preparing to stride over and see if he could use one of their dummies, a small commotion happened right in the middle of it all.
A boy younger than all the rest, a striking red amidst the hollow beiges and grays everyone else adorned, was determinedly swinging a sword—a fake one, of course, as none of these people had real ones—to practice several different movements he’d seen other people do. He couldn’t be older than ten, maybe less than that, if Xie Lian had to estimate just based on how small and frail he looked. He had been there the whole time Xie Lian watched without taking a break, and if what was going on was any indicator, he’d clearly been here long before that, too.
People were starting to surround him, telling him he needed to back off and make room for the rest of them. The boy never responded, just continued swinging, and this irked everyone else. The calm suggestions turned into harsher words, which turned into shouting, which turned into the boy getting a wooden sword hit into his back; the sound was so loud that even Xie Lian winced, knowing that must have hurt quite a fair bit.
But the boy only stumbled a little before continuing on. The people surrounding him were very displeased now, and they were stepping in closer, like they wanted to hit again; maybe even hold the boy down to give him a beating.
Xie Lian couldn’t just stand by and let that happen.
Before he knew what he was doing, Xie Lian rushed in, blocking the wooden sword with his own real sword to prevent it from hitting the young boy once again. His hood fell off his head with the movement, but there wasn’t much to be concerned about; very few knew what the crown prince looked like up close. It would only become an issue if his wings were to become exposed as well.
“Hah?!” The person who was trying to beat the young boy stared at Xie Lian, aghast. His expression became furious. “Who the hell do you think you are?! Get outta my way, this kid is pushing his luck! He needs to be put in his place!”
“For what?” Xie Lian retorted with a frown. “He’s merely practicing the sword—is that not what this place is for? What could he have possibly done wrong?”
The boy seemed to finally be pushed out of his trance upon hearing Xie Lian’s voice. His head whipped around, and he stared wide-eyed at the older boy, but Xie Lian couldn’t see it, too focused on defending the younger’s back.
The attacker scoffed, eyes narrowed at Xie Lian. “Why are you defending that brat?” he spat out. He clearly wasn’t on friendly terms with the young man. “This is all he does, day-in and day-out! He’s hogging all of our resources and not giving anyone else a chance to practice!”
“There are plenty of other places here to practice,” Xie Lian pointed out, gesturing to the other dummies nearby and the wooden swords strewn about. “He’s clearly dedicated. Why not let him be? Unless, of course, you’re going to offer him a meal for his hard work. If so, then please, be my guest.”
With the obvious commotion, the crowd around them seemed to grow thicker. Xie Lian grimaced—he may have the upper hand here, but he couldn’t just use his sword against a bunch of defenseless people. That would be horrible of anyone to do, let alone the crown prince!
So, with that in mind, Xie Lian made the quick decision to grab the boy’s wrist and run.
Shouting continued behind them, but Xie Lian paid it no mind. He kept a firm hold on the boy’s wrist, guiding him through the streets away from the people trying to harm him. He gave rushed apologies to anyone he happened to run into, promising to compensate for their troubles when he had the time, unable to stop and offer it right this second as much as he would have preferred to.
Eventually, they found their way into an alley far off from where they first started. Xie Lian finally let go of the boy’s wrist, chest heaving as he caught his breath. He leaned against the wall, sliding a hand through his hair to push it out of his face—it seemed to have come partially undone from his ponytail amidst their escape. He’d have to fix that later.
The boy sat on the ground now that they were safe, having a bit of a harder time catching his breath compared to Xie Lian. Xie Lian noticed this, panicked, and quickly scrambled to fetch his water from his satchel, passing it over and guiding the boy to drink it slowly.
“Sorry, sorry!” Xie Lian rushed out, rubbing his hand along the boy’s back soothingly. “Ah, how careless of me—are you alright? I should have known better. You were just hit so hard by that sword, and I didn’t even warn you. I’m truly sorry.”
For a long while, the boy didn’t speak. He focused on drinking the water and regulating his breathing, aided by Xie Lian at his side. Xie Lian could only stare in worry, but at the same time, a tinge of familiarity hit him the longer he stared; the bandages adorning his skin, the messy hair cascading down to his shoulders…there was something eerily familiar about this boy that Xie Lian couldn’t quite place in his mind.
Finally, the boy shook his head, waving off Xie Lian’s worries. “I’m… I’m okay,” he managed to speak, voice scratchy from unuse. “It didn’t… it wasn’t that bad. I’ve—I’ve felt worse.”
Hearing this did not reassure Xie Lian in the slightest. His frown only deepened, and he leaned forward into the boy’s space, eyes narrowed like he was investigating something. The boy jumped in place, staring at Xie Lian in confusion, leaning back as much as he could—which wasn’t much, considering how close the two of them were right now.
“That’s not a good thing,” Xie Lian pointed out with a huff, finally leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “You shouldn’t just let them hurt you like that. If you’re training the sword, why not use the moves against them?”
The boy shifted in place, seeming a little uncomfortable. “...It wouldn’t stop them. It would just make them hit harder the next time.”
As much as Xie Lian hated to hear it, he knew in his heart that it was true. People like that wouldn’t settle until they got exactly what they wanted, and in this case, it was this boy’s suffering. His shoulders slumped, defeated.
It was obvious that part of the reason the boy had been beaten was the black, crow-like wings that adorned his back. Most people with them tended to hide them, considering how rare it was for anyone to be born with them outside of the royal family, but this boy proudly showed them off instead. That would lead to jealousy, which would lead to harsher beatings, no matter how much Xie Lian wanted to prevent it.
All the same, Xie Lian couldn’t just ask the boy to hide his wings. That would be cruel. People shouldn’t have to hide anything. It was just a harsh reality that had to be faced.
Seeing his distraught expression, the boy felt as though a rock hit him square in the chest. “I—I promise, I’m alright!” he quickly reassured, reaching for Xie Lian’s hands, though pulling back after a moment of contemplation. “I—thank you. For helping me.”
Xie Lian wasn’t convinced, but it was nice to see that the boy still seemed somewhat lively despite everything that happened. It helped him relax, if only a little, and he let out a sigh before smiling and reaching to ruffle the boy’s hair affectionately.
“You still shouldn’t let them pick on you like that,” Xie Lian said, more endearingly now. He had seen how the boy moved; he wasn’t bad with the sword, he would admit, but his movements seemed a little… “You’re doing quite well with your training, but you seem a little held back. Perhaps you’d be better suited to a saber.”
The boy perked up a little at this, visible eye sparkling and the black feathers on his back ruffling in excitement. He looked like he wanted to say something, maybe continue the conversation about training and such, but a loud clang resonated outside of the alley. Both boys flinched at the sound, and Xie Lian whipped his head around, trying to find the source of the noise.
Ah. His darling friends were looking for him again, and couldn’t go five minutes without making a scene. Again.
Wincing, Xie Lian quickly stood up, helping the younger boy to his feet. “Sorry—I have to go,” he said, a little rushed. He smiled apologetically, squeezing the boy’s shoulders and giving him a determined nod. “Keep up the good work, but don’t overdo it! And—and stay safe!”
With that, Xie Lian left the alley to get Feng Xin before he actually went insane from worry. Of course, that meant getting shaken by the shoulders and enduring a lot of panicked rambling from said man, but it was all fine to Xie Lian. Today had been successful in his book.
From the alley, the boy could only stare, entranced. He held his wrist where the prince grasped it earlier to drag him away like a delicate glass ornament. He could still feel those hands pressed against his shoulders, squeezing there in such a grounding way; that determined look in almond eyes, so sure of himself when he said that the boy was doing well.
His heart must have skipped several beats within the same minute.
Their third meeting, when Xie Lian was seventeen, was not under circumstances either of them would have preferred.
Nobody wants to meet amidst tragedy, after all.
The fires in the kingdom were harsh. Xie Lian could barely breathe from the smoke in the castle halls, just barely managing to navigate through it to find his parents and get them to safety. They had no idea what caused this, but there were suspicions of a traitor, of someone lurking in the shadows waiting for the moment to strike. Xie Lian couldn’t pay attention to any of that right now, though.
Once his parents were safe, Xie Lian had Feng Xin and Mu Qing continue to search the castle to get everyone out. They protested at first—they needed to stay by Xie Lian’s side, dammit, that was their job—but Xie Lian would have none of it. They’d already lost so many amidst the fights breaking out right now, and he couldn’t let them lose even more.
The streets were chaotic. More fires were starting, screams echoing through the alleys. It was such a stark contrast to what anyone was used to. Xie Lian himself felt his heart sink, nausea taking over so quickly that he had to stumble over to a wall to hold himself upright.
What had any of these people done to deserve this? What was going on?
Running around felt useless. Xie Lian was going back and forth throughout the chaos, helping whoever he could, but it all seemed futile in the grand scheme of things; whenever he saved one person, two more would fall. If he got there in time, three others would be suffering just out of reach.
It was like an endless stream of hell that nobody could truly escape from. Strong as he was, doing his best to save as many people as he possibly could, Xie Lian felt completely helpless.
Xie Lian used his wings to shield himself from the ash threatening to get into his eyes. He looked left and right, frantic in an attempt to figure out what to do, if there was anything he could do—before his gaze landed on a few people running from a home burning particularly bright, covered in soot and struggling beyond belief.
Just as he looked over, a young man ran back into the house, uncaring of the flames. Xie Lian felt his heart drop even further.
Quickly, Xie Lian ran over to help, ignoring the concerned shouts of the homeowners as he rushed inside. He covered his nose, squinting to see just what he was dealing with, and it was worse than he would have thought.
Several young children remained in the house, not including the young man who had run inside moments prior. There was a second level to the home, one that was quickly caving in around them, and Xie Lian couldn’t be certain of whether or not there were people upstairs as well. He could only hope there weren’t, considering the wood cracking above him; it was bound to collapse completely at any moment.
The boy who ran in was working on getting one child out, but he could only do so much on his own. Xie Lian caught his eye, and he recalled this boy—they’ve met, once or twice before, haven’t they? The thought escapes him as soon as it arrives, for there’s more important things at hand, but what matters is they nod at each other, seeming to know exactly what they had to do.
Xie Lian rushed over to the other two children stuck inside, both huddled in a corner and crying while clutching at each other in fear. The sight hurt more than anything. Xie Lian had to be careful stepping around the fire, covering half his face with one wing all the while.
As soon as he got to them, the children clung to him, sobbing about how they wanted to get out of here. Xie Lian soothed them as much as he could, holding one in each arm while trying to determine the best way to get out. It seemed like there wasn’t much option aside from the way he came in, so he had to stick with it and hope for the best.
Of course, hoping for the best was impossible when there was no best to be found.
Shortly before getting to the door, the boy from before reappeared outside, quickly coming back in when he saw Xie Lian with the two children. Xie Lian set them down, pushing them towards the other boy, but right as he did, a louder cracking sounded out—one that could only end in disaster.
Xie Lian’s face paled as he looked up, catching sight of a support beam on the brink of falling right above them. He grit his teeth, before shoving both children forward into the younger boy’s arms, that split second all that was needed for the beam to crumble from the ceiling and onto Xie Lian’s back.
An agonized noise escaped Xie Lian instantly. It hurt. It burned. Vaguely, he could hear shouting from the doorway, but he was in far too much pain to really register it. He tried to push himself up, but it was no use.
Even if he managed to untangle himself from this mess, one of Xie Lian’s wings felt like it was broken in several places. It burned the most there, like a cruel notice of his fate—that he would never truly be able to spread his wings, and he was stuck in a cruel reality for the rest of his life. Even if he hadn’t been caught in this fire, he was stuck in that castle; he was the crown prince, and he was to see his duties through to the end, no matter what.
The last thing Xie Lian could comprehend before he passed out was a frantic boy’s face, and small, rough hands trying to pull him out from beneath the rubble.
It hadn’t been that long since the fall of Xianle. Five years, at most. The cause of the fires and war was still left undetermined to the public, but Xie Lian found out the truth eventually—his father had been engaging in several shady deals, promises that he couldn’t keep. In the end, the remaining people of Xianle turned against the royal family, deeming them unfit to lead, which led to their downfall.
A bitter reality to be left in. Xie Lian almost wishes that he didn’t make it out of that fire that day, knowing very well just how much he had failed his people. He couldn’t save anyone, no matter how hard he fought for it. He even lost one of his wings.
The usual cheer that Xie Lian used to have had long since left him. The smiles he wore never met his eyes. How could they? Upon realizing what happened, his mother and father had killed themselves in shame. The two friends he had left were gone—Mu Qing needed to take care of his own mother, and Xie Lian knew that staying by his side would only hinder that, so he let him go without complaint. He chased off Feng Xin himself, knowing very well that the man had his own things he wanted to accomplish, but he was too loyal to Xie Lian to say so himself; he would have never left if Xie Lian didn’t force him away.
It was all his own fault. Xie Lian couldn’t protect anything he cared about. It only made sense that he was alone now; that people cursed his name whenever it was spoken.
With time, perhaps it would become easier. Beings with wings, especially those of royal descent, had significantly longer lives than normal humans. Xie Lian would likely have centuries to deal with this feeling of loneliness, so he may as well get used to it now. It’s not like he had anyone left who would stay by his side.
So, he traveled alone with what few belongings he had. He wore a cloak at all times, and kept his wing beneath his robes for good measure. He almost thought it would be better to just sell the wing off, make some money off of the few royal feathers that weren’t damaged and remained as beautiful as they used to be—but in the end, he decided against it.
After all, what better way to remind him of his failures, of why he’s walking this path alone, than the proof of what happened on his body?
He never even got to fly—not the way he dreamt of. To experience the freeness he always wanted. That hurt the most.
It was raining again. It seemed to do that a lot these days. Xie Lian didn’t bother looking for shelter—he stayed put on the ledge he was perched on, staring off into the distance.
There was chattering beneath him, people in the streets urging one another to find shelter before shutting the doors to their own shops. Some people remained out, having prepared for this with an umbrella on hand, but their steps still quickened as though they didn’t want to be stuck in the rain for too long regardless. Xie Lian did not hold this same regard. He thought the rain to be soothing, in a way, despite the fact that he knew he would wake up with a cold the next morning.
A sigh left him, quiet and defeated. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wondering vaguely if any shelter would even take him at this point if he tried—his luck had declined ever since his kingdom fell. It seemed like no matter where he went, he would be ushered away. Unwanted.
Alone.
With that thought, a bitter laugh escaped him. What more could he expect? He did this to himself. He knew this would happen the moment he pushed Feng Xin away, so he shouldn’t be surprised. He’s sure someone out there is laughing at him for it; for daring to hope that someone might care for him, even a little.
The fourth time they met, it was still raining.
Xie Lian was still sitting in the same spot. He hadn’t moved in quite a while, and his limbs were starting to ache from staying in the same position for so long. Yet he still stayed, unmoving, staring out into nothing as he waited for something—anything—to happen that might interest him. Something to occupy his mind for a while and keep him from this doom he’d been stuck in for all this time.
The rain stopped. That was certainly intriguing, considering Xie Lian could still see the drops of water falling from the sky.
…Or, no. Rather, something stopped the rain from hitting Xie Lian.
Confused, Xie Lian lifted his head, staring numbly at the person now standing beside him. He wasn’t being protected by an umbrella, but rather a long, outstretched wing. The sight was a little jarring—it had been a long time since Xie Lian met anyone with wings. The last time he saw someone like him was when he chased Feng Xin away.
The man beside him didn’t speak. He just stood at Xie Lian’s side, holding his wing out to protect him from the rain, uncaring about his own state. He let the rain fall against his skin, arms crossed over his chest in a way that would seem leisurely if it weren’t for the fact that he looked like a sopping wet cat.
Xie Lian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “...You’re getting soaked,” he pointed out. His voice cracked, throat sore from unuse. He couldn’t even be bothered to question why the man was up on a rooftop with him; where he had come from in the first place. “You should find somewhere to wait out the rain.”
Finally, the man looked at him. One eye was covered by an eyepatch, and the other—
“And you?” The man spoke up, startling Xie Lian out of his brief, distracted thoughts. He looked at him, confused. “You were getting soaked as well. Why didn’t you step out of the rain?”
A weak, sad smile found its way onto Xie Lian’s face. He didn’t respond.
Instead, he changed the subject, peering up at the feathers above his head. He reached out, running his fingers along them; they shuddered beneath his touch, and he only vaguely registered it might be weird of him to do that to a stranger. “Thank you,” he said after a minute, voice quiet. “It’s kind of you to protect me instead of yourself. But I don’t deserve it.”
“Why not?” The man asked, genuinely curious. It made Xie Lian startle, just a little, before he caught himself.
With that same sad smile, Xie Lian sighed. “It’s a long story,” he said simply, not offering more than that. “Don’t worry about me. I’m alright.”
Despite hearing him, the man did not pay attention to those words. Nor did he move. The two of them stayed standing there, quiet, until the rain finally stopped; not once did that wing move from above his head. Not once did the man try to protect himself from the rain instead.
At some point, Xie Lian dozed off. By the time he woke up, the man was gone, leaving nothing behind except for a single black feather.
After that, their meetings became much more frequent.
Every now and again, Xie Lian would find himself side by side with that man—who he found out, eventually, was called San Lang. He didn’t quite think it was his true name, but he didn’t pry at all; Xie Lian somewhat figured the man was just using him for a while, and he would turn around and leave the moment he got what he wanted.
Still, though…it was nice to have someone around for a change, even if they might abandon him at any given moment. And there was something familiar about him—something that reminded Xie Lian of a more pleasant time in the past that he wanted to hold onto.
The longer they spent together, the more Xie Lian felt…cheerful. Every time San Lang appeared, he would have some kind of new trinket to give to Xie Lian, showing it off with a boyish excitement that made Xie Lian feel fond. Xie Lian would always accept it gracefully, even as he thought to himself that this man really was like a crow, what with all the shiny things he would present him with.
Sometimes, San Lang would disappear for longer periods of time. Xie Lian sometimes thought it was the end, and he wouldn’t see San Lang again, but then he would appear out of nowhere as though nothing happened. Xie Lian never said it outright, but he felt a rush of relief whenever San Lang came back; like he was greeting an old friend he’d lost touch with.
Tonight, the two of them were laying side by side in a small temple, huddled beneath a blanket to share and San Lang’s wings to keep them warm. It reminded Xie Lian of a day in the past; a time when he saved a young boy from a few older kids who were beating him, and brought him to a small temple out of the rain. San Lang kind of reminded him of that child—there was an air about him that seemed similar, in a way. He figured it just to be coincidence, of course, as life wouldn’t be so kind to him like that, but it was nice to find the similarities regardless. To find a little bit of comfort within the storm.
Xie Lian sighed, to which San Lang hummed in question. Xie Lian could only smile at him through the darkness of the temple, a quiet assurance that he was okay.
“Why do you keep coming back?” Xie Lian asked eventually. The question seemed to startle San Lang, his feathers twitching against Xie Lian’s back, despite the fact that it wasn’t the first time Xie Lian has asked this. “You—you don’t have to stay. I know I’m kind of overbearing, and I’m mostly just going from abandoned place to place just to sleep—”
“Gege,” San Lang interrupted. He’d taken to calling Xie Lian that rather early on. “Do you think I’m doing this out of pity?”
Fidgeting, Xie Lian didn’t say anything. San Lang sighed, pulling the smaller man closer, more firmly tucked into his arms. To keep warm.
“I come back because I want to,” San Lang said, fingers running through Xie Lian’s dark hair. Xie Lian truly didn’t know what to say. “I enjoy your company, Gege. I want to be here, by your side—unless, of course, you want me to leave.”
“No!” Xie Lian said quickly, before shrinking down, embarrassed at his sudden outburst. “No, I—I like having you here. It’s nice.”
“Then why do you always seem to doubt my presence as genuine?”
No response again.
San Lang didn’t pry further. He just kept Xie Lian tucked into his chest, wings wrapped around him as much as they could be in this position, like he was cradling something precious. Something that meant the world to him.
Xie Lian wondered, quietly, if he could mean that much to someone.
It was an accident, really. San Lang walked into the shrine they were staying in when Xie Lian was in the middle of changing, and he didn’t have the time to cover up before the damage was done. It was bound to happen sooner or later, but that didn’t make it any less damaging. He could only stand there, half-dressed with an agonized expression as San Lang took in the view of his one, lonely wing.
San Lang didn’t look surprised, but rather, he looked pained. He was holding a bag from the market in his arms, and he nearly dropped it to rush over to Xie Lian, but he held himself back. Instead, the quiet remained, both of them tense and unsure.
Xie Lian ended up being the one to break the silence. “Sorry—sorry,” he apologized, pulling his robes up to hide his wing as he usually did. He swallowed, feeling like he could collapse at any moment. “You…you weren’t supposed to see that, I’m sorry—”
“Gege,” San Lang spoke, voice hushed and almost hurting. Xie Lian couldn’t help but flinch. “Why would you be sorry?”
Gnawing on his bottom lip, Xie Lian kept his gaze towards his feet, unable to meet San Lang’s gaze anymore. “Because it’s—it’s not pretty,” he laughed weakly, wrapping his arms around himself. “It’s quite ugly, honestly. Nobody should have to see that—and—and all those scars on my back, too—”
This time, San Lang didn’t interrupt with words, but rather his actions. He dropped the bag unceremoniously off to the side, uncaring whether or not anything fell out in favor of walking over to Xie Lian. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pulling him into a tight embrace that Xie Lian made a startled noise at.
“San Lang—”
“Gege,” San Lang spoke before Xie Lian could continue, likely going to go into a depressed rant. “You’re beautiful, Gege. Scars and all.”
That…was not what Xie Lian expected to hear.
In the past, the only people who saw this broken state were Xie Lian’s parents, Feng Xin, and Mu Qing. His friends looked at him with pity and sorrow, unable to imagine what it would be like if it had been one of them who lost a whole wing. His parents were agonized; it ended up being one of the things that led to their demise, and so Xie Lian continued to blame himself for everything that happened.
He figured it was a horrific sight that shouldn’t be shown to anyone. That it left him ugly, and, in the end, unwanted.
As if reading his thoughts, San Lang spoke up once again. “This,” he said, gently pushing Xie Lian’s robe down enough to feel where his lost wing used to be, “is not the back of someone who has had an easy past.” Xie Lian blinked through the tears surfacing in his eyes. “These scars do not make you ugly, Gege—they mean you’re strong. That you’ve survived the unimaginable.”
Gentle hands moved to the remaining wing on Xie Lian’s back, fingers running over the feathers with a delicacy no one had ever treated him with. “If it helps—I suppose I haven’t been fully honest with you, either,” San Lang said. “My name. I was…unsure of it, at first, but—you deserve to hear it, especially after all this time.”
Pulling back just enough to look each other in the eye, San Lang gazed down at Xie Lian, an unreadable emotion in his eye. “Hua Cheng,” he said, no louder than a whisper. Xie Lian felt a little faint. “But I’m quite fond of Gege calling me San Lang, so please—by all means.”
That got a laugh out of Xie Lian despite his tears. “Hua Cheng,” he said, testing out how it felt on his tongue. “I like it. It suits you.”
Days passed, and everything seemed the same. There were differences, obviously, but none of them were all that negative; if anything, Xie Lian felt closer to Hua Cheng, in a way. He felt like the two of them were truly friends now, and those past thoughts he had, wondering when Hua Cheng would up and abandon him after he had his fill of their time together, had long since dissipated. It was domestic, in a way that Xie Lian never thought he could have for himself.
Xie Lian finally wasn’t alone anymore. He finally had someone who wanted to stay by his side—someone he could call home.
Of course, with them being closer, Xie Lian began to open up a little bit more. On one of their regular walks together, he confessed that he lost his wing before he could truly understand what it was like to feel free while flying, something he had dreamt of since he was young. It was a hard pill to swallow, but Xie Lian had long since accepted it; he knew there was no way for him to get that wing back. No way for him to understand.
But Hua Cheng wasn’t having any of it. He looked at Xie Lian, a determined glint in his eye, before promptly stepping into his space and scooping him into his arms. Xie Lian, having not expected it, shouted in surprise. “San Lang?!”
“We can’t have that,” Hua Cheng said, a frown on his face as he met Xie Lian’s eye. “Gege has never felt how freeing it is? That’s absurd. We have to fix that.”
And, with that, Hua Cheng promptly lifted Xie Lian with him in flight.
Xie Lian, still startled, held tightly onto Hua Cheng, not knowing whether he should laugh or cry. He remained frozen at first, stuttering out a few concerned words—San Lang, I’m heavy, this can’t be easy, put me down!—but Hua Cheng shut them all down with ease. He just continued flying, holding firmly onto Xie Lian with a confidence that did something to the smaller man’s heart that he couldn’t quite explain.
“Gege,” Hua Cheng said after a while, an amused huff escaping him when he saw Xie Lian’s face—eyes squeezed shut, a flush on his cheeks, so unsure. “Look.”
It took several moments for Xie Lian to crack one of his eyes open. He looked at Hua Cheng first, but that ended up being a mistake—the expression on his face just made Xie Lian feel embarrassed. He looked away, but that—
That just brought the scenery into his view, and he nearly stopped breathing.
The breeze against his skin was wonderful. The view was another story altogether; it was strange, seeing things from this high up, but it was beautiful. All the trees beneath them, the ocean in the distance, shimmering beneath the sun slowly setting beyond the horizon. Xie Lian felt like he was in some sort of a dream.
Before he knew it, Xie Lian’s awed expression turned into a giddy smile. Hua Cheng continued onward, satisfied now that Xie Lian was actually paying attention, and started to quietly point out different things to him; everything they were passing by, including any people beneath them.
It all looked so small from up here, but Xie Lian truly felt free in a way he never had before.
Once they landed, Xie Lian’s legs felt like jelly. He wobbled a little at first upon standing up, held steady by Hua Cheng, who was laughing at how messed up Xie Lian’s hair was now. He carefully fixed it amidst his own laughter, though, nothing but fondness on his face the entire time.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian spoke, too excited to be flustered right now. He beamed up at Hua Cheng so brightly that the taller man thought he might collapse on the spot. “That was so—that was amazing! Oh, goodness—I never thought—wow.”
“Freeing?” Hua Cheng questioned, to which Xie Lian nodded vigorously. Hua Cheng’s fondness for the man only deepened. “I’m glad to hear, Gege. Whenever you want—just ask, and I’ll happily take you up there again. I would do anything just to see you that happy again.”
Those words had Xie Lian pausing, and the heat on his cheeks returned. He swallowed, flustered as he stared up at Hua Cheng, but he said nothing for several moments; he just let the man fix his hair quietly, heart pounding heavily in his chest.
“...Really?” Xie Lian asked finally, fidgeting nervously. “Do you mean that…?”
Hua Cheng, endlessly confident, looked bashful now. His own cheeks were tinged with red, and he suddenly couldn’t meet Xie Lian’s eye as well as he had before. Xie Lian was almost worried he overstepped, but he couldn’t say anything else, as he was pulled into a familiar, tight embrace.
“Anything,” Hua Cheng confirmed. Xie Lian thought, briefly, Hua Cheng’s hands might be trembling where they held him, but he couldn’t be sure. “I would do anything for you.”
Xie Lian felt like he could cry again. He leaned into Hua Cheng’s embrace, letting the quiet overtake them for now; he was content to stay within the man’s arms, feel his warmth radiate throughout Xie Lian’s body.
“Then,” Xie Lian spoke, voice no louder than the wind, “stay. Stay with me, San Lang. Please don’t leave me alone.”
Hua Cheng’s arms tightened around Xie Lian.
“Never,” he said, just as quiet. “I’ll stay with you for an eternity. I swear it.”