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Certain subjects were difficult to speak about. Xie Lian had lived well over 800 years, had seen and experienced more than one could imagine in that time, had become numb to circumstances that would drive a normal person insane. That numbness, the apathy towards what happened to him, whether he lived or died, was one of those difficult subjects to touch upon. He respected Hua Cheng, appreciated endlessly his insistence that the god not get injured, but that insistence made it… awkward when Xie Lian just wanted to vent out those feelings. He didn’t blame the ghost king for his somewhat extreme reactions whenever he expressed those thoughts — Hua Cheng had witnessed the lowest points in Xie Lian’s life, had had to stand by helplessly as he experienced the worst pains imaginable. Xie Lian couldn’t hold the frantic anxiety that bubbled up in the younger man whenever he was too flippant about his life against him.
The god was the happiest he’d ever been, had two husbands that loved him regardless of his flaws. He didn’t have to worry about collecting enough scrap so that he could afford a stale bun to nibble on anymore, all his wants were easily and quickly given to him. But that didn’t mean the thoughts went away. As happy as he was, there was still that emptiness, a numb feeling in the back of his mind. He could be watching the wind blow through the cherry blossom trees, scattering pink petals in the air, his heart filled with joy, and yet the thought with the hope of simply not waking up tomorrow would still be there. He wouldn’t act upon it, not anymore, but it left him torn. Was he that ungrateful that he’d still wish for death, even after being granted such happiness? He could only be thankful that, even though he could tell something was wrong, Hua Cheng would never force him to share what was bothering him.
It surprised him, when one day, cold arms wrapped themselves over his shoulders, the rest of He Xuan’s body materialising from the darkness behind him. “Lian-ge looks like he wants to rest,” its quiet voice commented, resting its head against his. The god blinked owlishly, pulling away to turn and look at the calamity questioningly. “What do you mean? I haven’t been having any problems sleeping lately; I’ve been feeling rather refreshed, actually!” He tried to play dumb, hoping it wouldn’t push. The act unfortunately didn’t work, though it was hard to tell what the calamity was thinking just from its face — Xie Lian had yet to learn all those small details, those so subtle and nearly undetectable expressions He Xuan had.
“I’m speaking of a different weariness,” it replied, looking towards the withered autumn leaves fluttering to the ground. “The desire for it all to stop, so you can finally rest.” It put the thoughts so simply, no eloquent words to mask the meaning. Xie Lian was startled, bracing for the quiet plea that he'd value his life more that usually came with the acknowledgement of such ideations, but none ever came. He quickly remembered how the ghost beside him passed — not from blood loss or brutal dismemberment, but from exhaustion. That exhaustion had clung to it even in death, trying to drag it down in every waking moment. Knowing this, he settled, realising that it was offering its ear for the thoughts he had trouble voicing without judgement, having very likely dealt with them itself.
Turning his gaze to the same leaves whirling in the wind, he let out a quiet chuckle. “It’s silly, isn’t it? To still feel so… tired. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, yet I still have that wish to…” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. He Xuan gently looped one of its arms through his, linking their fingers together. “It’s difficult to truly live after you’ve spent so long only existing, uncaring of what may happen to you,” it verbalised the words for him, steady and matter-of-factually. Xie Lian gave a short nod, biting his lip in shame. “It- it’s not that I’m not grateful, I truly am! I just… I feel undeserving. The both of you have given me so much,” he sighed.
He Xuan hummed quietly. “…I understand. I feel similarly often enough. I’m a ghost without a purpose, what is stopping me now from finally resting, like how I have wanted for so long?” Xie Lian startled once more, subconsciously tightening his grip on the calamity’s hand. It squeezed back reassuringly. “Even when I did have a purpose, there was always the thought of letting myself dissipate.” Yet it still remained. That tenacity was something Xie Lian admired, even before he knew He Xuan personally, when he was listening to the story of He Sheng, how the scholar was beaten down again and again, had everything he loved and cared for ripped away from him, yet didn’t kill himself from the despair like so many would have. “Although I am allowed to remain here, I am allowed to find new happiness, the urge doesn’t simply vanish.”
It stepped away, catching a leaf between its fingers. Xie Lian watched it, taking in the melancholic beauty the calamity had. There was comfort, knowing it understood the thoughts the god had, was willing to discuss them so openly without need of reassurance that he wouldn’t truly act on any of them. “It’s a bit startling to think of sometimes, how easily it becomes a wish.” Xie Lian reached up to fidget with the ribbon he used to keep wrapped around his neck, forgetting that it was no longer there. “It’s not like death was necessarily a mercy in the end either,” he laughed tepidly, “I think I did just want everything to stop, at least for a little while.” Maybe the fact a true death was unachievable for so long was what made the ideation as strong as it was — to be able to disappear without dying so he couldn’t revive again would’ve been ideal.
“Would Lian-ge like a break now?” it asked, gazing back towards him. The god blinked up at it in mild confusion, curious what it could possibly mean by that — He Xuan would never harm him, hadn’t done so even when he had been meddling with its plans for vengeance, so he found it hard to believe it would now. Seeing the look on his face, it elaborated. “When the exhaustion becomes too heavy to bear, the waters are there to accept me. Perhaps, they would also help Lian-ge to forget himself. At least until he feels ready to return.” Hibernation, Xie Lian realised, is what it was talking about. It wasn't rare for the calamity to suddenly disappear, unresponsive to messages in the array, having put itself into a deep slumber. It had triggered a spike of panic in Xie Lian the first few times it had done that, only reassured by Hua Cheng that it was just sleeping and would be back soon enough.
"I can't sleep at the bottom of the sea like you do, I do still need to breathe." A smile spread across his lips regardless, appreciative of He Xuan's caring gesture. The water demon was usually much more subtle with its acts of service, the type to watch over the target of its affection from afar while ensuring they lived well. It was rare for it to be openly caring, where its acts could be acknowledged directly. "No," it returned the smile, its own much softer, "but you can float." It held its hands out towards him, holding no expectation in its patient gaze — an invitation he was free to refuse.
Xie Lian trusted the water demon, taking its hands and allowing it to guide him towards the array to its domain. From wood, to polished stone, to the more natural stone of the cave it led him through, they tread softly across the ground in a comfortable silence, hands never leaving each other’s grip. It was nice, to have someone else be in control, to be allowed to simply follow along without any expectations to perform or think for himself. The stone eventually made way to sand, crunching softly under their feet as they approached the body of water. He Xuan slowly waded in, turning to face the god again as it stepped backwards one step at a time.
The water made it up to the middle of his calves before Xie Lian froze, a fear he was not aware of until that moment forcing him still. He Xuan’s beckoning hands held him steady, channeling a calming energy between them. “Don’t worry, I will not let you sink,” it whispered, its next step back coaxing him forwards again. It melted away the fear that nagged at his mind, allowing himself to be led further until they were waist deep. The water wasn’t as cold as he was expecting it to be — the water on the isle was usually ice cold, matching the calamity that ruled over it, but the water here was almost lukewarm. Looking into He Xuan eyes, he finally noticed the same tiredness he felt reflected in them. Maybe anyone else would’ve felt unsafe knowing that it held the same thoughts he did, would not trust their life in the hands of someone uncaring of their own existence, but Xie Lian trusted it, allowed it to spirit him away.
It eventually circled around him, gently easing him backwards to float in the shallow water. “I’ll always be with you,” it murmured, placing a soft kiss on his forehead before it sank down, its form dissolving amongst the gentle waves. It was comforting, feeling its energy flow through the pool, like a blanket wrapped around him. It was easy to settle into, to close his eyes and feel himself slowly slip away — it was a similar feeling to death, but there wasn’t any of the paralysing dread that would always seep in even when he died in a comparatively peaceful way. His racing thoughts were forced to slow, eventually fading entirely as he welcomed the water’s embrace. He was slowly unraveled, from head to toe, like he was being dissolved in the same way the water demon had. Like an animal entering its long hibernation, his heart gradually slowed its beating, sighing out one last breath before the waves enveloped him entirely.
Time ceased to exist in that state, meaning neither Xie Lian nor He Xuan were cognisant of how much had passed while they rested. Eventually, one by one, the god’s senses slowly returned, his heart resuming its usual rhythm as breath entered his lungs. He wiggled his fingers, then his toes, the numbness melting away as awareness seeped back in. He took a few deep breaths, clenching and unclenching his fists, before fluttering open his eyes. He didn’t see much as first, his brain needing to process the visual stimuli before the image faded in. He remained still for a few more moments, feeling the ebb and flow of the water demon’s spiritual energy around him. It seemed to still be asleep, showing no reaction to the god’s movements.
“Gege?” He blinked, his hearing slowly coming back, turning his head towards the shore to see a red-clothed figure kneeling in the sand, looking not at all unlike a kicked dog. Hua Cheng perked up seeing him blink blearily at him, standing to wade into the water towards the god. Xie Lian felt the energy stir as soon as he stepped foot within the waves, almost able to imagine He Xuan mumbling in its sleep when one of them would unintentionally disturb its slumber. “Gege,” Hua Cheng repeated, hesitantly reaching out to touch his shoulder. His tongue still felt like lead in his mouth, reaching up to brush his fingers along the ghost king’s knuckles. He felt a twinge of guilt seeing the expression on his face, one of such deep concern that he looked ready to cry at any moment.
Xie Lian was gently gathered up into Hua Cheng’s arms, lifted out of the water that seemed sad to release him. Despite how long he had been lying in the pool, he wasn’t waterlogged at all, as if the water just slid off him as soon as Hua Cheng picked him up, leaving him surprisingly dry. “I understand if,” he paused, as if trying to find the right words to say, “I understand if didi and gege need to… sleep. But,” the watery look in the ghost king’s eye only grew, “tell me before you do so. Please.” His voice cracked ever slightly, the god reaching up to wipe away the tear that slipped down his cheek.
Two weeks had ended up passing before Xie Lian awoke again. The ghost king had returned to an empty home the evening they left, both unresponsive to his attempts at contacting them. The overwhelming panic that surged in those few moments had him nearly setting the entryway ablaze. The god felt bad to have made his husband fret like that, resting his head against his chest. “I’ll bring you back home first, didi requires a little more persuasion.” Hua Cheng didn’t really care about disturbing He Xuan’s slumber right now — it could continue sleeping where he could physically see it and touch it after scaring him like that. Xie Lian nodded, letting his heavy eyelids fall shut again in the safety of his husband’s arms.
The next he awoke, he was in their plush bed, cuddled between both ghost kings, one awake and one still in a deep sleep. As comfortable and badly-needed the rest in the water was, as nice as it was to simply be allowed to stop existing for a little while, he was happy to be with both his husbands once more. He knew it'd take a long time, if ever, for the nagging wish to die to fade away, to allow himself the joys of living again. All those traumas and scars would be hard to heal from, but his husbands were patient. They were both willing to be what held him afloat when he started to sink under the weight of it all. He felt Hua Cheng stir beside him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Good morning, gege- ah, why are you crying?” He quickly jumped to attention, worry marring his face again. Xie Lian shook his head, waving away his concern. “It- it’s nothing I’m just,” he smiled brightly,
“I’m just so happy to have the both of you.”