Work Text:
The cavern was a welcome respite from the constant howling and screams of his fellow ghosts. His footsteps and the occasional drip of blood were the only things to break the silence as he stalked through the labyrinth of winding tunnels.
Hua Cheng was exhausted; the latest battle in the foothills of Mount Tonglu had turned long and bloody, more and more ghosts joining the fray, desperate to unseat him from his place of victory. It had seemed endless, like his time stuck in this cursed land felt endless. He could barely keep track as time slipped past him. Only the growing weariness reminded him of how long he’d been here, days just as bloody and painful in death as they had been in life.
Under the mountain, though, he’d carved his sanctuary, and no petty little ghost would take it from him.
He walks — movement slow, the bone deep weariness that comes with being permanently on edge dragging him down — past many half finished statues, their robes still blocky and unrefined, or with merely the vaguest shape of the only face that really matters. Shoulders tight with tension, he heads straight for one of the finished figures, one of his more whimsical creations. Most are replicas of moments from his own memory: his Highness poised and strong while commanding troops, or the picture of martial elegance on the battlefield. This statue however, is not a truth. The only safety he has ever known, narrowed down to a few short minutes that even now, he knows is the very core of who he is. The feeling of strong arms holding a fragile body tightly, the reassuring whisper of an elegant voice, the flash of eyes so warm it felt like the sun itself, and turned towards him.
This statue is not of that moment. He’s carved many of those already, as he hones his skill and deems past attempts unworthy. The statue before him now is similar in pose, his Highness’s arms held open as if waiting for a street rat to fall into them, legs curled against the stone floor, eyes gentle and cast downward. Hua Cheng stands before the statue, blood dripping from his clawed fingertips, staring down at his beloved. He’d hate himself for this later, for letting some trash ghost’s blood dirty his God’s form. But for now, the weight of the years spent alone in this hell feel heavier than usual. The promise of power and freedom is distant, and the knowledge that his Highness could be out there anywhere, and Hua Cheng can’t help him, eats away at him. For now, he gives in to the pressure, lets it pull him down until he’s nestled on the stone floor next to his God. Lets himself rest his head, his empty eye socket throbbing like his still heart once did, and remains there. The cool brush of stone arms around him are never enough, but he knows it’s more than he ever has deserved.
Hua Cheng doesn’t jerk awake. His heart doesn’t race and his brow doesn't sweat. He simply opens his eye to stare at the silk canopy above him. The bedroom was so dark it could be the same cave as his dream, if it weren’t lacking the smell of sulfur and blood. A chill overtakes his already-cold skin, the weight of his memories holding him still. It had been a long time since he’d dreamt of Mount Tonglu, of the long years spent on edge, crawling over every other piece of trash trapped in that land.
He’d do it again, all of it over and over, to bring him here to his God, to his purpose. But on nights like these, the memory of stone caverns and bloody hands leaves him feeling hollow and unmoored. He’d been used to looking over his shoulder from a young age, being the only one to watch his back, yet the years in Mount Tonglu had been especially grueling. He’d watched other ghosts go mad from it, tear themselves apart before another had the chance. He’d been cornered, hunted, fallen into rages so fierce he’d almost lost any sense of himself. But there’d always been one thing keeping him together, tethered here, despite it all.
A soft shifting beside him pulled him from his reminiscence. Hua Cheng turned his head, gaze landing on the soft sleeping face of his beloved, and felt the icy chill melt a little. What did a dream matter, when he’d made it here in the end? The mountain had been left far behind, and he’d clawed his way out of it.
Rolling over onto his side, Hua Cheng pulled Xie Lian’s sleeping form tight in his arms, willing the warmth of his body to chase away any thoughts of cool stone under his hands.
———————
Sometimes, the bad days crept up on Hua Cheng. He really should have expected it after dreaming of Mount Tonglu, and yet here he was, mind fogged and useless, body aching like it always had in life. This was not the first time he’d had a day such as this, though since finding His Highness again he couldn’t recall one quite this dreary. That was just the effect of His God, though: one look at his noble face and all of Hua Cheng’s aches and pains were washed away in the tide of his devotion.
Before being reunited with his beloved, Hua Cheng would have spent a day like this wallowing in his own failure to find the man he searched for, not able to focus on anything useful and spiraling into such a state of self disgust it would turn to rage. And he knew exactly what to do with rage.
There were always temples to burn.
Now though, he found himself at a bit of a loss. Sitting at the long table in his study, papers and scrolls scattered haphazardly across its surface, he couldn’t focus on any of it, be it petty grievances from his citizens looking to be resolved, business permits, or building plans for the latest expansion he’d been working towards. His mind was utterly useless, thoughts drifting as he read the same line over and over.
The only thing — or person — he was interested in focusing on, was inconveniently not here. Xie Lian had been summoned up to the heavenly realm early that morning, leaving Hua Cheng to sulk in bed alone, mood souring faster than the sheets cooled. His Highness had promised him not to be too long, but Hua Cheng knew better than to trust the trash up in heaven to let his God leave without piling as much work as they could upon his well built shoulders.
Fools, he thought, spinning a brush between his fingers, I should go up there and show them what happens when they demand such things from one so far their superior. Maybe Gege would let me knock them around a little—
A pulsing ache behind his right eye socket broke his thoughts, brush clattering out of his grip. Leaning back in his chair, Hua Cheng covered his face, pressing firmly until stars were blooming in his vision. No, Xie Lian wouldn’t want him to harm any of those idiots, even if they deserved it. If he’d wanted Hua Cheng to come up there with him, he’d have asked, like he had before.
Letting out a long, weary sigh, the Ghost slumped against his desk, paying no mind to the papers he was surely crushing. Without his Gege here to distract him, he had a feeling today would be utterly miserable.
———————
Xie Lian could not get out of heaven fast enough these days. It’s not that he hated being in the heavenly realm; there was a certain… splendor that came with it all. It was just not a very comfortable place, and after spending so, so many centuries with very little comfort to his name, he’d maybe become a bit spoiled since meeting his ghost king and was finding the smaller discomforts much harder to bear.
Fielding off some more persistent gods trying to seek his advice on some matter or another, Xie Lian all but launched himself down to the mortal realm, so eager for an escape, he’d forgotten to simply use the dice until he’d already descended through the clouds. Laughing at his own foolishness, he felt for the comforting weight of the dice safely tucked into his sleeve and let them roll onto the grass underfoot. His sweet San Lang hopefully hadn’t been working too hard while he was gone. He’d pouted awfully when Xie Lian had pried himself away from the ghost, and it had been a very endearing sight.
Already picturing the meal he’d make them when he arrived as an apology for his tardiness, Xie Lian stepped through the portal and into the warm safety of Paradise Manor.
He’d been transported into one of the many winding hallways of the manor, dark panelling surrounding him, lit by the warm glow of lanterns spaced artfully along the walls. Xie Lian smiled, letting the tension from being in the heavenly realm melt from his shoulders, feeling at ease in a way that was only possible here in his— no their — home. He set off down the hall, eager to find his beloved ghost and show him just how much this god had missed him.
He decided to start by looking in the study. Frequently, when Xie Lian was called away for heavenly business, Hua Cheng would throw himself into city management, creating new elaborate projects, or making a dent in the constant stream of requests from his adoring citizens. The ghost liked to whine and play up how bothersome it all was, but Xie Lian could see through him easily. Knocking lightly on the heavy wooden door and receiving no answer, Xie Lian slid the panel open.
Inside, he found all the normal signs of a busy work day. Paper and scrolls piled high, some even falling onto the floor. Books and files filled the many shelves placed along the wall, a few piles having made their way onto the crowded tabletop. Despite the clutter and the clear signs of use, his ghost was noticeably absent.
He knew he could just ask Hua Cheng over the array where he’d gotten to, as it would be silly to search the entire manor just for him to not even be home. But— ah, Xie Lian liked to surprise him, when he could. Hua Cheng always reacted with such enthusiasm, no matter how short a time they’d been apart for, and it made Xie Lian a little greedy for it. If he called, Hua Cheng would likely just appear by his side in an instant instead of letting Xie Lian come to him, and where would the fun be in that?
So he continued his search, first their bedroom, then the kitchens, all empty. As he walked through the flowering gardens, he noticed there weren’t even the usual butterflies flitting amongst the leaves, keeping sentry. It’s not like the manor really needed constant surveillance, you would have to be pretty foolish to attack the residence of a Supreme and a heavenly official after all, but it was a little odd to not see them.
Finally Xie Lian set his sights on the small workshop that stood a short distance from the main building. It was nestled between ever-blooming camellia flowers, and had large windows to let the light in. Hua Cheng said he’d built his workspace separate to keep any dust or fumes from bothering them in the manor, but Xie Lian suspected he just liked the view of the flowers from this corner of the garden.
There didn’t appear to be any lanterns lit inside, but as Xie Lian opened the door, the workshop before him was flooded red, the setting sun spilling through the windows. Hua Cheng stood in the center of it, half cast in shadow as he leaned over one of the tall work tables. Xie Lian couldn’t see what he was working on from where he stood, but took a moment to appreciate the tall handsome figure of his husband before him. His long legs and narrow waist, the way his unruly hair cuts down his back, gathered into a tight ponytail to keep it out of the way.
What a truly enchanting sight he made.
Stepping quietly through the workshop, Xie Lian wrapped his arms around Hua Cheng’s waist, smiling as he felt the ghost freeze for a moment, and pressed a kiss to the spot between his shoulder blades.
“San Lang, I’m home.”
———————
Hua Cheng had been working this lump of clay for hours. He’d intended on making a new bowl for Xie Lian, since his beloved had dropped his favorite recently and had yet to find a replacement that suited his tastes, or maybe a new mask to hang on the wall, something reminiscent of the god-pleasing warrior mask, yet all he’d accomplished was getting clay under his nails.
He pressed his thumbs into the clay, frowning at how it gave way under pressure. He preferred working with harder mediums, things that he really had to work at to bend to his artistic whims, but the thought of stone under his hands today made him feel heavy, his skin prickley, and his head throb where his cursed eye once sat. Clay was better for days like today, even if it came to nothing in the end.
He hated feeling like this. He should be able to move past this, to shake the static from his weary limbs. What good was he to his God if he was thrown off by one simple dream? It hadn’t even been a nightmare, not really. Just a far-gone memory of what small comforts he’d chased, and the shame over how inadequate they were in comparison to his God’s real attention.
His thumbs met the wood of the table, pressed right through the clay, and he could feel it start to splinter — maybe rebuilding his workspace from the ground would be enough distraction from this foul day.
Before he really could break the worktable, a pair of familiar arms wrapped around him. He’d been so lost in his wallowing he hadn’t even heard his God enter, which was unforgivable. Had Xie Lian been searching long for him? Called out to him? What if he’d needed him, and Hua Cheng had been too occupied with his own melancholy to hear?
“Gege,” he said, shoving such thoughts aside as he turned around to face his beloved. A quick flick of spiritual energy to clean his hands of clay before cradling Xie Lian’s cheek. “You’re back! That pompous trash didn’t give you too much trouble, did they?”
Xie Lian laughed, turning his head to place a soft kiss on Hua Cheng’s palm, the contact settling something deep within the ghost. Here he was— his home, his heart— safe in his arms once more.
“Mmm, no, it was nothing serious,” Xie Lian said, his voice a balm for Hua Cheng’s mind. “I’m glad to be back.”
Xie Lian pressed up, soft lips meeting Hua Cheng’s in a gentle kiss. His hands danced along Hua Cheng’s waist and up his stomach, touch light but playful as they continued to kiss, both happy to be in one another's company once more.
There was no place Hua Cheng would rather be, cradling his beloved’s face between his hands, their lips pressed together and moving in slow kisses. If he could, he’d never stop. He’d hold on until the sun between his hands burned him away into nothingness, until the warmth that spread through him at every touch from his God consumed him entirely. He’d vowed to never rest in peace, for his soul to carry on throughout it all, but like this… with his God’s soft mouth against his, warm hands steady and sure against his chest, burning all the way to his unmoving heart, maybe like this, it wouldn’t be so bad.
“San Lang?”
Xie Lian’s voice cuts through his thoughts, soft as always, but with a definitive note of worry. Opening his eye, Hua Cheng took note of the slight pinch in his love’s brows, eyes so warm and tender it made something in him ache. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped kissing back, too absorbed in his own thoughts of desire, worship, and ruin.
“Is everything ok?” Xie Lian asked, hand sliding up Hua Cheng’s chest to rest against the skin of his neck, fingers curling into his hair as he moved back a little.
Hua Cheng felt the space between them like a physical thing. It was a tug in his gut, the buzzing of anxiety flickering up through his fingers and along his arms as Xie Lian moved away. He let his hands trail after his God, coming to rest loosely on the shorter man’s waist. Not too tightly, not wanting to show how the contact was the only thing that made him feel settled and real.
“Sorry Gege, there’s nothing to worry about.” He said, keeping his voice light as he smiled down at the man before him, leaning in to continue their kiss.
He took a step forward, bringing them close once more, and forced himself to banish any thought other than the feeling of Xie Lian’s waist under his fingers, the plush lips moving against his own, always a little chapped despite Hua Cheng’s best attempts to pamper his god.
Xie Lian hummed softly into the kiss, letting himself be pulled in by Hua Cheng for a moment, before breaking away once more, hands coming up to cradle Hua Cheng’s face.
“San Lang…” he sighed, fondness almost enough to cover the worry still present in his voice.
The buzz in Hua Cheng’s fingers sharpened, the same hollowness from the morning swelling in his chest once more, aching. He didn’t know why he couldn’t shake it off. He didn’t want to make Xie Lian worry, especially not over him. His God had so many worries already, what with the trash in heaven always bothering him for useless things, and devotees to tend to. Hua Cheng hated to add to that, it went against everything he dedicated himself to. He existed to serve and protect, to uplift, not pull his God down into the dark with him just for small tokens of comfort.
But the biggest blessing in his life, knowing his God— Xie Lian — being allowed into his heart and mind and life, meant that he knew that his love did not like it when he thought of himself in such ways. Had told him again and again that he shouldn’t hide these parts of himself. That Xie Lian wanted to know them all, even the thoughts and urges that made him feel ugly and small for even daring to want.
The memory of the damned dream that had been haunting him all day flashed in his mind, overwhelming his senses. The cold lonely cave, the stench of blood, and the fear that had constantly pushed him further and further. The fear that he would never be enough to help his God, to be useful and worthy of being his believer. He swallowed, gaze flitting away from the steady eye contact with his beloved.
Warm fingers brushed from his temple to his cheek, the movement soothing the fears bubbling inside him in an instant.
“Would…” he started, voice hesitant. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his beloved. “ Would Gege hold me?”
Xie Lian didn’t give him time to become restless, to walk back his request with a joke. Before the Ghost King could as much as glance at his God, he was being pulled forward and down by Xie Lian’s hands on his shoulders, as the god folded himself onto the floor wordlessly, Hua Cheng in his lap. His long legs bent awkwardly, but the idea of looking foolish was of no consequence to him, not when Xie Lian’s arms held him close, pressed right up against his strong chest, warmth surrounding every part of him. His hands clutched at Xie Lian’s robes, relishing in the soft feel of the fabric under his fingers, compared to the imagined roughness of stone.
The memory of that cold embrace was wiped from his mind. Replaced only with the beat of his God’s heart against his ear, the comforting squeeze of his hand against his back, the other petting his hair softly. He sat perfectly still, as if he was the statue this time. With his lack of body heat, he might as well be. Was this alright? Surely this wasn’t a comfortable position for Xie Lian. He should get up or let Xie Lian get up off the dusty workroom floor.
“Like this, San Lang?”
Fingers grazed along his scalp, tugging at the tie in his hair until it came tumbling down, shielding Hua Cheng from the last light of the room. Hands carded through his hair, untangling it as Xie Lian spoke softly in his ear.
“I like it too, holding you like this,” he cooed. “It feels like I'm holding my whole heart in my arms.”
The sweet words had Hua Cheng melting, the tension he’d been carrying through the day eased, shoulders drooping, head lolling further to nestle further into the warmth of his beloved.
Safe. He felt safe, here in the embrace of the man he loved. Xie Lian had always represented safety to him, from the moment he’d been caught in these very arms. But to feel it, having it proven again and again, was very different from the brief memories he’d clung to in his youth. There was no cave here, only the smell of sandalwood and jasmine, and the faintest musk of his God’s skin.
Hua Cheng had long known that the place he lived was not a home, in the true sense of the word. But here, bundled against his beloved, letting himself feel loved and cherished in a way he struggled to allow, he felt it.
He didn’t know how long they stayed there, the sun had long set, casting the workshop in darkness. He just knew that Xie Lian never let him go, never loosened his hold, gently rocking him, or occasionally humming a long-forgotten melody. Hua Cheng allowed himself to be pulled under, drifting into a state of peace and relaxation he would never have been able to even conceive of in his youth.
This was his home, these arms that he knew back and front, could carve from stone blindfolded, strong and sure around him.
———
“Will you tell me about it, San Lang?” Xie Lian’s voice broke through Hua Cheng’s muddled, drifting thoughts. “Whatever is on your mind, you can tell me.”
Hua Cheng breathed in the scent of his God, nuzzling into his chest a little more, fingers toying with the ring resting on Xie Lian’s chest, the warmth buzzing up his limbs as it always did when he came in contact with his own ashes.
“It was just a… bad dream, Gege.” He asserted, voice muffled by Xie Lian’s robes. “A memory from Mount Tonglu.”
The memories had faded once more, the comfort of his beloved surrounding him soothing the sharp edges. They’d discussed his experience becoming a Supreme before, in Xie Lian’s mission to learn everything he could about him, claiming it wasn’t fair that Hua Cheng had seen so much of Xie Lian’s past, but he had missed so much of Hua Cheng’s. It was endearing, though he insisted that Xie Lian had been around for all the pivotal moments. So his Highness knew what a dream about that time would entail, the types of memories that would resurface.
But showing it like this was… newer. Hua Cheng didn’t like to display these parts of himself, struggled to appear weak in this way. Recounting histories from centuries past was one thing, revealing how he may still carry the scars, was another.
“That place pushes you to the brink of madness,” he started. “It could be hard to tell what was real, how long I’d been there.” Hua Cheng sighed, feeling Xie Lian’s hands begin petting his hair once more as he spoke. “Sometimes when I dream of it, the… unreality of it lingers, after waking.”
“I wish I could have been there for you, back then.” Xie Lian murmured, sounding dismayed over the thought of Hua Cheng going through such trials alone. This is why it was hard for Hua Cheng to voice these things. He’d never wanted Xie Lian to be troubled because of him, needed his God to know that he had been there, always. Didn’t he know that he was what gave Hua Cheng the strength to fight at all? The reason he could put one foot in front of the other, choosing to walk the path, no matter what he faced.
Hua Cheng pushed himself up to meet his beloved’s eye, still sitting in his lap, he cupped Xie Lian’s warm cheek in his palm.
“Gege, no.” He said, shaking his head. “You were, I promise. The thought of you is all this one had. I knew my purpose, and that alone was enough to keep me going.” Hua Cheng insisted. “And I’ll admit, this one had many shameful thoughts of His Highness at that time. I would imagine being held by you once more, like you had when we first met, or… like this.”
He pressed a soft kiss to Xie Lian’s worried brow, trying to sooth the wrinkle there.
“So you see, you’ve always been the one there for me, your Highness. Back then, and now, you truly are amazing.”
A wide smile broke across Xie Lian’s face, and it was like the sun coming out after a rainy day. Hua Cheng couldn’t help but bask in his God’s beauty for a second, couldn’t help but be pulled in by the magnetic force that was his toothy smile.
Patting Hua Cheng’s cheeks, Xie Lian tried to school his expression back into something more serious.
“San Lang — Ahh, next time, don’t spend your whole day feeling like this, just come to me instead.” He softly scolded. “I want to hold you anytime, no matter what.”
Hua Cheng grinned. “Anytime? Gege should be careful, you know what a greedy ghost this husband of yours is. I might never let you leave, if you say things like that.”
Laughing— And oh what a beautiful sound his laughter was, Hua Cheng felt buoyant, listening to it fill the darkened workshop — Xie Lian nodded insistantly.
“Mmhm, anytime. I will just have to carry San Lang with me in my arms, wherever I go!”
Dissolving into laughter at the idea, they held each other close. The mood softened as they fell into a familiar rhythm, lips tenderly moving together as they kissed. They kept it soft, neither feeling the need to push for anything more heated. Xie Lian moved from Hua Cheng’s lips to pepper kisses along his jaw, his neck, trailing them up behind his ear.
“Is San Lang ready for dinner? I thought of a new recipe to try on my way home.” Xie Lian asked, pausing their kissing to launch into a story about the new vegetables he’d found in the market, and the different ways he was thinking of preparing them.
Hua Cheng smiled adoringly, he felt the last of the lingering ache in his chest dissipate as he listened. A night spent by his beloved's side, eating food he’d so thoughtfully prepared for them, was a better fantasy than he could’ve ever pictured.
He crawled off Xie Lian’s lap to stand, pulling his husband up along with him, hand in hand.
“Yeah, that sounds perfect Gege.”
