Chapter Text
Xie Lian grabbed Takeshi Kazuya and yanked him rather unceremoniously into his room.
“What— who— I’m—“ Takeshi, it seems, has broken. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates and glued to Xie Lian’s face.
Xie Lian felt his skin prickle as the guard openly gazed at gim. Despite himself, Xie Lian fell back on old habits: Snapping back.
“Enough. If i wanted to hear a broken sentence i’d hire a drunk bard. You’re over reacting.”
Quite on the contrary to how Xie Lian was speaking— internally, he was freaking out. If Takeshi has seen even one of Xie Lian’s statues, of which he knew still existed. They weren’t the grand hunks of marble or stone they once had been. His statues were always….sculpted differently. Kneeling, was a common stance.—
Xie Lian felt so lost. His cover in Yong’an would be blown if Takeshi had actually seen one of his statues up close. Xie Lian knows his fae is recognizable. But he’d have to do something if thats the case.
He wouldn’t kill Takeshi. He wouldn’t..
But what would Xie Lian do?
“Your…” Takeshi’s words failed him at last.
“This, has never happened. Do you understand?” Xie Lian turned away from the guard and very pointedly walked to where he’d left the mask.
If he couldn’t kill Takeshi—he wouldn’t—then the next best thing was to deny.
But…what were the chances that he’d just forget his mask? After so many years of wearing his mask, and what happened the night before…
A part of Xie Lian simply wanted to brush it off as coincidence. Maybe he was too lenient last night with the liquor, and the stress inflicted by the man had simply tired him out so much so as to slip up.
But a bigger part of him wanted to acknowledge that maybe his bad luck had caught up to him. It didn’t take long for everything and everyone around him to be affected by the misfortune he brought. He just wished that it didn’t have to affect so many other innocents.
Xie Lian sighed deeply. He felt weary. So, so, so weary. It was inscribed on his bones at this point.
Maybe his time here really had run out.
——————
Takeshi frowned hard behind the state preceptor as the older man repositioned the intricate mask onto his face.
He couldn’t understand why the state preceptor hides his face—especially when he looks like that!
Takeshi has seen a lot of beauty’s come and go, but against the state preceptor, they pale in comparison. And even then, the beauty in question was a man! Now wasn’t that a strange thought.
Though, he supposed, having beauty like the preceptor would be more of a curse, wouldn’t it?
However, he knows his position. He’s not a captain, or even a war veteran. His opinions were his own to keep and nothing more.
The state preceptor returned (when had he left?) in a flourish of fresh new robes dyed a deep purple.
Takeshi flushed as he realized he’d essentially barged into his superiors room before the man was even dressed properly. If it had been anyone else, he likely would’ve already been sentenced thirty lashings.
“What was it you were sent here for? It must have been important, seeing as you are fumbling over yourself.” Fangxian straightened—subtly, possibly a nervous tick? And seemed to try and gain face again.
Takeshi knows that Fangxian is not a bad person, he could be quite kind, so he allowed the awkwardness to dissipate.
Even though he couldn’t quite dismiss the feeling that he’s seen Fangxian before. Without his mask, that is.
“The king has requested your presence in the parlor, sir.” Takeshi had been shaking down to his boots when the king had called upon him—him of all people! The king was the more elusive of Yong’an royalty. The queen is revered as kind and diplomatic. She once saved an enslaved tiger from a band of buskers, and her beauty was often the first thing people thought of.
The crown prince was much less….stoic. He was two years younger that Takeshi himself, but that didn’t give him any leeway. Lang Qianqiu was kind, similar to his mother, but in a much less self conscious manner. From what Takeshi has seen and interacted with regarding the prince, he’d grow up to be a fair ruler. Lang Qianqiu, unlike his mother’s calm demeanor in any situation, was often quick to jump the hoard. He had a strong sense of justice, and often, surprisingly, missed social ques.
The king, however? Nearly non existent. Rumors ran through the outer villages close to where Takeshi was born and raised that questioned whether the king was real or not. But of course he makes appearance’s every seven or eight months, similar to last night, but they are fleeting. Takeshi, personally, thinks that the king might be ill. But from what Takeshi could tell, the king was a very strict and patient man. A….decent match for a king—not that Takeshi would say that out loud. He shuddered at the thought. He valued his life, thank you very much.
“Is that so?” Takeshi pulled himself back to the present as Fangxian brushed past him towards the doors. His tone was soft, not upset, but bemused.
He must have been silent for too long because suddenly the state preceptors eyes were aimed towards him inquisitively.
….had his eyes always been so bright? It was like staring into a pot of molten gold before it’s cold. Or maybe more similar to honey.
Takeshi mentally slapped himself.
“Y-yes,” DAMNIT, curse his stutter! “The king requested your presence as soon as possible!” He hurried to follow through the doors as the state preceptor strode down the hall. His legs made long purposeful steps, and Takeshi found himself becoming breathless at the gruelingly fast pace.
They fell into silence as Fangxian navigated the halls easily, a feat that Takeshi still had trouble with.
With each forward step the older man’s long silky hair swished in an enchantingly strange manner. Takeshi’s own hair was stiff and so very bland. Now that he thinks about it—everything about the state preceptor was just better. From his robes to that damned mask he insisted on wearing.
Takeshi was almost jealous. It was a new and unprecedented feeling, and it arose so suddenly he nearly tripped over air.
How come someone like Fangxian, the cold state preceptor of Yong’an, gets to have such expensive belonging’s? Something ugly twisted inside Takeshi at the traitorous thoughts.
How come royalty is allowed to flaunt their wealth when people like Takeshi have barely the clothes on their back?
——————
After what felt like an eternity Takeshi finally seemed to take the hint and take his leave.
The boy had fallen suspiciously silent, something that had not missed Xie Lian’s notice.
Emotions can be finicky when you are young. Xie Lian would know. After all, he had also fallen victim to the power of youthful naivety. Atleast the young man wasn’t throwing hands with every passing servant. Mu Qing and Feng Xin would start bickering over the smallest nick. It didn’t matter where they were or who they were with. They’d argue like two roosters in a den. Xie Lian’s stomach twisted into knots at the thought.
He turned another corridor and began his descent down a fleet of stairs. He hasn’t been in such a rush since—well, for a long time. But anxiety was beating against his ribs like a particularly inconsolable child. Surely the king wasn’t asking for Xie Lian to explain last night—right? That seemed like such a small thing…even if his wrist still ached a little. He’d probably let himself get yanked too much yesterday.
It took longer that Xie Lian would have liked to get outside. The warm air accosted him immediately—the first sign of summer. There were few trees in this section of the garden. But there was a rather large rock garden strategically positioned around the woving path.
With all the grace Xie Lian could muster up, he straightened his posture and made long purposeful strides towards the area he knew the king would be.
It was an engawa, a kind of outside porch area. The wood was light and slender, long windows with flowing curtains, and wide open doorways. The roof was high, long beams crisscrossing and woving around overhead. This was the kings favorite place. Not the courtroom, throne room, or even his personal room. Xie Lian knows because it was the first place the king had taken him. When Xie Lian had first accepted the role of preceptor, the king had mysteriously decided to tour the grounds and palace along with the banished god. It had been slightly off putting. For Xie Lian, at least. It’d been hundreds of years since he’d surrounded himself with people—much less royalty. There had been pressure, and anxiety-
“Fangxian, do take a seat. This will take a moment.” Xie Lian’s eyes easily landed on the king. The old man waved a lazy hand towards an opposing seat. The king typically lounged back when he was within familiar company or resting, but now he sat ramrod straight. Every breath the man took was calculated. It was a strange contrast to the gesture he’d thrown out to Xie Lian.
But Xie Lian understood the urge. Opposite the king sat a man dressed in crimsom red.
A memory flashed from the night before, and suddenly Xie Lian was locking eyes with San Lang.
The man’s lips quirked and something in his very attractive face softened.
Xie Lian didn’t stumble thankfully, and managed to sit on a loveseat without trouble. The issue was, that loveseat was right next to San Lang.
For a moment there was a long silence. Then the king sighed softly, a hand coming up to rub his graying bear. He looked tired, but it was hard to notice if you weren’t looking right. Xie Lian had practice with noting and identifying the kings ticks.
The old man finally looked up, his grey eyes cutting and cold like flint. “This is Hua Cheng. He’s chengzhu of a pleasure city. Hua Cheng is here on official buisness, however.”
Xie Lian blinked thoughtfully at the brief description. A pleasure district? Not uncommon, but for someone like San Lang to own…
“I see. How might this one help?”
The king eyed at Xie Lian for a longer moment and paused.
“My brother,” his voice turned as stale as decade old bread. “Has lost a bet against this man. The original agreed terms for the bet are too hefty to even be considered. Hua Cheng, however, has graciously decided to negotiate the terms. While he is here, i was hoping you could be in charge of managing daily affairs.”
Hoping=assigned. Ordered.
There isn’t much of a choice here—only an illusion of one. Still, anything was better than hopping around the crown prince and the chaos he brought. It made Xie Lian feel like an old man.
Xie Lian really was an old man, though, atleast in years. The reminder of his immortality brought a jolt of pain through his shackles, still nestled deeply into his ankle and neck.
“Of course, your highness.”
San Lang had been surprisingly quiet for a while now, and for some reason anxiety bubbled under the banished gods skin at the lack of commentary.
“While Hua Cheng is staying here, your task will be quite simple. Make sure his room is fit properly and inform him of any current changes or problems.” He paused to reach for a small cup of tea from the table. He then looked at San Lang thoughtfully. “Once more, Hua Cheng, i thank you for hearing out my proposal. It would’ve been quite a bad move if you had not.” Like two big cats puffing up, Xie Lian was suddenly, and pleasantly, reminded that the king was not a sloucher. He was quite stick backed when it came to politics and family. San Lang seemed to take the buried threat in stride and simply tilted his head. Normal decorum requested he respond, but for one reason or another he didn’t. There was still that bewitching smirk upon his face.
The king finaly removed his flint eyes from San Lang and waved his hand again. A quick dismisal then.
Xie Lian suddenly felt rather out of place. He….hasn’t really dealt with any foreign leaders since rising to his position. Did he wave over San Lang or did he re-greet him like he would the king?
Luckily, San Lang made no move to leave by himself—simply following Xie Lian back into the main pavilion with long, purposeful strides.
Xie Lian was fully prepared to stay silent throughout the walk—despite his burning curiosity. What was this proposal the king spoke of? And there was still the matter of last night…he really ought to thank—
“The king doesn’t sound to pleased with his brother, does he?” Xie Lin startled as that familar velvet voice spoke up.
San Lang, while being quite a bit taller than Xie Lian, somehow managed to not loom over him as he shifted to walk beside the state preceptor.
“Yes.” Xie Lian thought through his words carefully. As he thought, he stuck his hands into his sleeves, displaying a cold front to those far away. Closer, however… “The kings brother has been quite…troublesome as of late. It’s no surprise he managed to get himself intangled in debts.” Xie Lian allowed a certain softness to enter his tone as he spoke—one he hasn’t used in years.
The kings brother was the younger of the two, and therefore he was given more freedom than the king. In many ways, the brother reminded Xie Lian of Qi Rong.
“The buffoon was kicking up dust in my Gambling Den. The trouble he caused was almost effortless.” San Lang’s voice was tinged with humor, and maybe it was Xie Lian’s imagination, but as they turned a corner, he almost seemed to sidle closer to the preceptor.
Xie Lian did not, in fact, know where they were heading. Since he was assigned to foreign affairs, the duty of state preceptor, among other things, he had to make sure that the company was also kept comfortable. A small part of him wondered how San Lang had already memorized the halls. How did he navigate them so effortlessly? And hold on, did he say Gambling Den? That shouldn’t have been quite as much as a shock.
“How are you?”
Xie Lian blinked behind his mask and tilted his head towards the man in red to eye him.
There was a crease between San Lang’s brow—concerned or confused?
“I am quite well. I….appreciate what you did last night. I had it handled, but the help was much welcomed.”
San Lang snorted. “Trash deserves to be taken out.”
Xie Lian privately agreed of course, but he didn’t acknowledge what San Lang said. It seemed..unseemly.
Something about San Lang made Xie Lian feel younger. Like he used to. He was like a welcoming fire afted a day of labouring through the cold.
Maybe…
No, Xie Lian cut off the thought before it could bloom. While San Lang was obviously not human, he didn’t act like an immortal. The man in red was more fitted to a ghost. And a strong one at that.
“Does gege find himself in situations like last night a lot?”
Xie Lian abruptly choked on his spit.
Gege?!
“I-i, no. N-not a ton.” Xie Lian felt his cheeks heat up, red painting the beautiful contours of his face. San Lang grinned unbidden, his eyes tracing the line of the state precepters face. “Last night was an exception…I typically avoid such events. But i wasn’t in such a position to easily refuse last night’s invintation.”
“That’s good. Gege should tell me if it happens again.”
Xie Lian knows he should get after San Lang for the nickname, but his lips were suddenly glued shut. After all, Xie Lian was very, very, very, likely to be older than San Lang. What did it matter if he called him gege, ge, or elsewise?
…perhaps that wouldn’t make as much sense to anyone else as it seemed to Xie Lian.
They walked down the lengthy hall side by side, sunlight filtering through the massive windows positioned in the wall. They reached a far door, sturdy, dark, and no doubt sound proof.
To be entirely honest, Xie Lian’s doesn’t know what he’s doing. When his own guoshi was working, Xie Lian was more often than not goofing off with Mu Qing and Feng Xin. There had been a time where he couldn’t goof off, of course. The war, the disease…all unpleasent memories.
Xie Lian quickly referred to the original train of thought. San Lang, strangely, didn’t seem bothered by that. He opened the door to his quarters and stepped inside and to the side, allowing Xie Lian to walk in as well.
“Guoshi!”
Xie Lian stumbled to a stop and whirled around. Lang Qianqiu ran down the hallway full force, panic alite in his features. Xie Lian’s heart shriveled as he wondered what Lang Qianqiu had done now.
“Dianxia! No running inside!” Xie Lian quickly stepped back out of the room, away from San Lang.
“I-I’m sorry!! It’s just- An Le tried cooking in the kitchens and-“
Xie Lian could feel the grey hairs.
“I forbid him from going in there.”
“I know! Don’t get after me! The kitchens on fire!” Lang Qianqiu was so panicked his voice had reached its limit and it was starting to crack.
Xie Lian sighed and rubbed a hand down his face.
“Go get a servant to bring a bucket of water. I’ll go and check out the damage.” Lang Qianqiu nodded fast and took off like a child on candy. Xie Lian set his hand down by his side and made a move to leave-
“Fire in the kitchen?” There was humor in San Lang’s voice.
Despite himself, Xie Lian found himself smiling softly—and where had that come from? He’d only just met the man-ghost. Why did he feel so…happy around a complete stranger? He turned to eye the other man and debated with himself.
“Would you like to accompany this one? The kitchen is outside of the regular tour. It might be a lovely experience.”
San Lang grinned and stepped out of the doorway, firmly shutting the door with a resounding click. With the door now closed and San Lang moving forward the distance between them quickly shortened. He got so close Xie Lian could count his eyelashes.
His expression was warm and melty. Something that paired handsomely with his rogueish looks. His one good eye squinted slightly as it locked onto Xie Lian’s own honey dew eyes.
The banished god felt his pulse stutter. His skin heated as though he’d just been baking in the sun.
Xie Lian felt warm inside and out.
“I’d love that, gege.”