Archive of Our Own

“I’m telling you, the most beautiful person here is your own daughter! You bet away her youth, her future! Who knows what that beast will do with her. She’ll be lucky if she lives the full twenty years.” One of the older women from the village scolds.

“She’ll be lucky if she lives to be twenty years old.” Her husband adds.

“I’m sorry, alright? I had to do something!” The gambler yells, hands in his hair. He didn’t think this would come back to bite him like this.

“Yeah, something to save your own ass. Now your shitty business is still failing and your daughter is getting married to Hua Cheng!”

“He didn’t say anything about marriage!”

“Oh please, what else would he possibly want from the most beautiful person in the village-”

“Probably won’t even bother marrying her, he’ll just keep her as a common whore.”

The daughter in question, only just eighteen and now watching her future die, is understandably sobbing uncontrollably on the ground. She’s collapsed beside her father’s pitiful fruit cart. Nothing is growing this year, she knows, but to bet her life away... Her cries break off with a shriek as a man falls from the sky, crushing what little fruit is left in the cart.

Xie Lian has been having a typical day for him. Did he intend to slip and tumble down the mountainside? No. Did he expect to slip and tumble down the mountainside? Yes. He stands, brushing wood splinters from his clothes, calmly plucking them from his own skin.

“Hey! What the hell do you thinking you’re doing? You have to pay for those!”

“Ah, I’m afraid I don’t have any money, good sir,” Xie Lian turns around, peaceful smile on his face, “But if there’s any labor to be done, I’ll gladly do it.”

He looks at the melon juice staining his robes, glances to the fruit carnage. Then, he calmly picks up a smushed melon, brushes the dirt off, and takes a bite.

“Those are quite good! Terribly sorry to have fallen on them.” He bows, then grabs another filthy piece of fruit from the ground and eats it.

“I know how you can pay me back,” The fruit stall owner says, greedy gleam in his eye, “You’re quite pretty, dare I say the prettiest person in the village?”

“Ah, well, I would really prefer just manual labor-” Xie Lian says nervously.

This is far from the first time this form of repayment has been pitched to him, but it always sends a little prickle of fear through him. He has no issues with people who choose to make their living that way, but the idea of anyone doing that to him makes him feel sick, and always has.

“No, no. I don’t want you, but we-”

“What’s this ‘we’ business! You did this alone!” Another villager yells.

“-I bet twenty years of service by the prettiest person in the village to the Ghost King.”

“Oh! Is that all? Yes, I can do that.”

He’s sure that he can find a form of service that doesn’t involve what he initially thought the man meant. His immediate agreement spooks the villagers a little, but not enough to back off.

“Alright, let’s tie him up and leave him at Crimson Rain’s temple.”

“You worship this ghost?” Xie Lian asks, extending his wrists to be tied with rough cord.

“Yes? He’s quite popular. What the hell kind of daozhang are you if you don’t know that?” The fruit stall man grouses, leading Xie Lian to the temple by the end of the cord.

“Ah, well, I’m a bit unconventional.” He chuckles.

He sits on the stone altar cross legged, making himself comfortable until this strange ghost-deity-thing arrives. Eyes closed, he starts to slip into mediation.

“How do we know he won’t run away?” One of the villagers asks, “He’s way too calm about this whole thing, definitely has some sort of escape plan.”

“Oh don’t worry! I won’t run.”

“We should tie him down.” The fruit stall owner says, and Xie Lian’s already low opinion of him drops just a little lower.

“No, please, no need for that!” He says, trying not to sound to desperate, “I really won’t run.”

“Sure, daozhang,” The fruit stall owner snorts, “You, get his legs.”

Ruoye bolts out from beneath Xie Lian’s robes, whipping around the small group of villagers.

“Aha, see? He was going to have this thing spring him loose.”

“No, no I really wasn’t!” Panic begins leaking into his tone.

“Grab it, use it to tie him down,” A burly older man says, “I bet nothing can hold him except his own weapon.”

“No, no no no, please don’t do this! You don’t need to, I won’t run I promise-”

“And cover his mouth.”

A few more villagers are brought in, one carrying a cloth. Short of seriously injuring these people, Xie Lian does not have an escape route. And if he runs, that poor girl will get sold off instead. The cloth is shoved in his mouth and tied behind his head. It tastes foul, probably a cleaning rag usually. Still, he eats worse with regularity, when he finds anything to eat at all. The rag is slightly wet, and he sucks a little moisture from it, grateful for something to ease his thirst at least.

Three people chase after Ruoye and Xie Lian begs through the gag for them not to hurt it, and for it not to hurt them. The burly older man finally grabs one end of the silk and drags it towards Xie Lian. His arms and legs are held down, and he could escape if he had to, but not without hurting these people. As Ruoye is wrapped around him and tied beneath the altar, he goes limp, retreating into that quiet place he goes when whatever he’s facing is too much to bear.

“There, that’ll hold him. He’s a strong one, not just a pretty face. Hua Cheng will be able to work him into the ground.”

Xie Lian stays slack as Ruoye snaps and struggles, tying itself into tighter knots. It’ll be over soon, he tells himself, I’ll be fine. I’m always fine. Nothing ever leaves a mark. It’ll be like nothing even happened soon enough. This does not bring him the comfort he hoped it would, but he keeps repeating it like a mantra in his head anyway. He does not notice that he is crying. His gaze is fixed upwards, wishing he could be looking at the sky. A silver lining to how seldom he can afford an inn or find an abandoned building to crash in is how much time he’s spent stargazing. He imagines the cobwebs on the ceiling are constellations. He does not close his eyes.

As the sun sets, the dark reds of the temple are cast in shadow. He can no longer make stars out of dust bunnies, can no longer see much at all. It all just looks grey in here now, the corners fading to black, edges of the temple becoming indistinct. The cold of night settles over him, the only sound his harsh breathing. All I’m missing is a little ghost fire, he thinks hysterically, A little ghost fire and a sword, a sword over and over and over-

He glaces down at his chest, expecting it to be mincemeat again. The fact that it isn’t is almost as distressing as if it was. His ribs ache from panting, Ruoye digging into his skin with each inhale. As tears blur his vision, the walls distort. The pillars look older, chipped by vandals, shadows dancing on the stone. Those shadows grow longer, warp until they form a crowd of people. Scared, angry mortals, taking hilt in hand, killing him to save their own lives.

Some part of him died in that temple. Some part of him accepted that he was always meant to be a lamb, slaughtered to save someone else. A willing sacrifice, one that can brush himself off and move on like he didn’t die, like he doesn’t know what his organs look like.

Thrashing, Xie Lian tries to pull himself free of Ruoye, and maybe he could if he were willing to tear the silk. He struggles against it, feeling the fabric cut into him hard enough to leave bruises. It twitches weakly, trying to soothe him, trying to get him stop hurting himself using it. It hates that, it’s always hated that. Xie Lian lets out a wretched groan from behind the gag, straining one more time before he falls limp. He could get loose if he tore Ruoye, but harm to his silk friend is unacceptable. He closes his eyes and prays for it to end. What it is he has no idea. His suffering? His life? Perhaps those are one and the same. Tears slip continuously from his lidded eyes.

Please, please someone help me. Please let this end.

He forgets that he’s in a temple. Or rather, whose temple it is.

Hua Cheng jumps to his feet, then hesitates. The prayer comes from that village that’s supposed to hand over its beauty. He had intended to leave whatever unlucky schmuck they offered on the altar overnight. Just to keep the villagers on their toes, then send Yin Yu in the morning. But now, he’s taking no chances.

[Yin Yu.] He growls into the array.

[Sir.]

[You’re going pick up that offering now, and I’m coming with.]

[Yes, sir. If I may ask, why?]

“I felt like it, what does it matter?” Hua Cheng appears beside him, eager to get this over with. He pauses, then admits, “I have a suspicion, and if I am correct... I will likely need assistance.”

Yin Yu flinches. What the hell am I getting dragged into now, if Chengzhu thinks he’ll need help? Aloud, he says, “Yes, sir. I will help in any way I can.”

With a roll of dice, both arrive in the darkened temple. There, on the altar, is a bound man. Yin Yu can’t really make out his features in the dark, but doesn’t need to squint for long. A flurry of butterflies light the place until it’s almost daytime bright. The man is pretty, Yin Yu has to admit, but he looks absolutely petrified. Understandably so, bound and left for collection by a ghost. He’s dressed in robes that probably used to be white, but are now stained with so much grime they look grey. His breathing is so heavy Yin Yu can hear it from across the room, the way it echoes on stone.

Much to Yin Yu’s surprise and horror, Hua Cheng gasps and staggers back, falling to his knees. One hand covers his mouth, single eye wide with shock. He’s trembling, Yin Yu realizes. His aura fans out around him, dense and furious enough to almost knock Yin Yu off his feet. The crickets outside go quiet, owls hoot as they flee, all scared witless by the vast, boiling rage and sorrow now emanating from the temple. The man on the altar flinches at it, and Hua Cheng tries to reel it back in, does not entirely succeed. This is perhaps the first time Yin Yu has seen him fail so wholly at controlling himself, the first time he’s seen him be so affected by anything. A cold dread settles over Yin Yu’s heart.

“Sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” Hua Cheng mumbles, and does not seem to be aware of it, “Not again, not for me, oh God, what have I done? What have I done?”

There’s nothing Yin Yu can do for him, he knows. What could he possibly do to calm Hua Cheng down after seeing his god left bound and gagged on Crimson Rain’s altar? E’ming is rattling at his side like the ascension bell, and Hua Cheng hasn’t removed his hands from his mouth to smack it, hasn’t even looked at it. His eye is locked on Xie Lian, entirely unmoving except for how he trembles. Yin Yu can’t imagine the turmoil he must be going through right now. If this was his hunch, no wonder he said he’d need help. His energy is still roiling as Yin Yu approaches Xie Lian, seemingly unable to stop it.

“Hello, Your Highness,” He whispers, watching the way Xie Lian’s chest heaves, “I’m here on behalf of Crimson Rain. We apologize for the rough treatment.”

Hua Cheng makes a noise behind him, high pitched and haunting like an elk’s call. Both hands are clamped firmly over his mouth, muzzling himself, muffling any words into incoherence, but unable to fully prevent the escape of sounds. Yin Yu carefully unties and removes the rag shoved in Xie Lian’s mouth, though he stays alarmingly silent. His jaw must be aching from being kept pried open like that but he’s so wholly limp that his mouth stays agape. Yin Yu presses it closed with two fingers under his chin.

“If you need or want to speak, Your Highness, please do,” Yin Yu keeps his voice soft, “If anything hurts as I untie you, please tell me. We do not wish you harm.”

Once again, Hua Cheng tries to speak behind his hands. The words aren’t recognizable at first, but as he continues Yin Yu realizes he’s simply apologizing, over and over and over. Yin Yu shivers. He fusses with the binds, hindered by the fact that they seem to be at least sort of alive. Picking at the knots, he’s only able to keep his hands steady under the weight of Hua Cheng’s grief due to years of practice. Even still, the emotion rolling off him in waves makes the hairs on the back of Yin Yu’s neck stand up.

“There, first knot out,” He says softly, “We’ll get the rest of them, don’t worry, Your Highness. Little silk, can you move that way? Yes, thank you, that’s good. It’ll go faster if we work together.”

Xie Lian whimpers, baleful and scared, eyes unseeing. Hua Cheng whimpers right back, and Yin Yu does not like that one bit. Yin Yu thinks he also seems to be somewhere else. He doesn’t know much of their shared history beyond what Hua Cheng has shared so he can be on the look out for his god. That, and the occasional drunken rant or brief fit of madness. The madness usually is contained to... wherever he goes for that. But rarely, he blurts something out before disappearing for a few weeks.

As soon as its able, the silk rubs one end to Xie Lian’s cheek, drying his tears. He cranes his neck to lean in to the touch. It’s almost like a parent dabbing away a child’s tears after a skinned knee. Yin Yu is reminded suddenly- violently- of drying Quan Yizhen’s tears much the same way. A boy with no parents to do it for him; a man who outlives everyone he’s ever known.

“Alright, last one. Little silk, hold still for a moment, I don’t want to tear you.”

“Even the same fucking silk-” Hua Cheng mutters, still seemingly unaware, but no longer gripping his mouth like he wants to tear it off.

The last knot comes loose and Xie Lian does not move. The silk snaps in the air, nuzzles against Yin Yu’s hand in what seems like gratitude before wrapping around Xie Lian’s chest. At last, he twitches, then bolts upright to clutch at his chest and stomach like he’s trying to hold himself together. His knees draw up, pressed tightly to his torso, arms still in place. He stays like that, death grip on his own sides, as Hua Cheng finally staggers to his feet and reins in his energy.

“Your Highness,” He murmurs, voice still thick with tears, “I’m so sorry to meet you again this way. Please, let me take you somewhere to get cleaned up.”

Xie Lian does not so much as blink in acknowledgment. He’s still somewhere else, stiff as a board even when Hua Cheng carefully lifts him up.

“Yin Yu. Dice.” Hua Cheng says, choked up.

“Yes, sir.”

They step through the doorway of the temple and into the manor’s courtyard. It’s about as different from the inside of a temple as it gets. The breeze is pleasant, flowers always in bloom through some clever spell work. Hua Cheng gently sets Xie Lian down on the grass. He still does not uncoil from where he’s wrapped around himself. The ribbon cautiously sticks one end out from where it’s pinned between Xie Lian’s legs and chest. It grabs Hua Cheng’s wrist and squeezes once, twice, before darting back to Xie Lian and nuzzling his face again. A steady flow of tears still drip from his vacant eyes.

“Your Highness...” Hua Cheng whispers brokenly, “How do I fix this?”

Sitting in the grass beside his God, he’s as lost and scared and small as he’s ever been. The one constant in his life and death: he is forever unable to spare His Highness pain. Yin Yu has never seen him so vulnerable, hopes never to see it again.

“Sir, I believe this is catatonia. It can happen sometimes in response to extreme stress or trauma.” Yin Yu says, and Hua Cheng shrinks in on himself impossibly further.

“What can I do about it?” He says after a few minutes.

“It is not permanent. Episodes last from hours to days, but he will be alright. You’re doing everything right. Removing the individual from the situation can help, but he just needs time. Perhaps medical care afterwards. Remember the children who prayed for their sister who ‘went still’ sometimes?”

Hua Cheng nods warily, “I do. You answered that one.”

“I did. This is what was happening to her. She was able to recover almost fully after treatment from a physician, and the death of her step father.”

“Only almost fully?” Hua Cheng says, because of course that’s what he’d focus on.

“Yes, sir. But she only lived with it for sixty years. I’m sure that with enough time, a full recovery is possible.”

Hua Cheng settles, placated. I will make this better if it takes until the end of time. Time is no obstacle for something like me. A few butterflies spring forth to heal the rope burns around Xie Lian’s wrists, and the various other cuts and bruises from heaven knows what. Yin Yu really did not know what to expect when meeting Hua Cheng’s god, but he certainly didn’t think he would be scuffed up and tied to an altar, smelling strangely of overripe melons.

Slowly, over the next few hours, Xie Lian’s muscles relax. His legs go first, dropping to splay in the grass like he just couldn’t keep them tense anymore. Then he flops backwards, fall cushioned by Hua Cheng’s arm and quick reflexes. His arms stay locked around his torso for much longer, something that Hua Cheng seems to find extremely troubling. When they finally uncoil, Hua Cheng heaves a sigh, shoulders dropping minutely.

The light comes back to his eyes slowly, fingers twitching from time to time as he wakes. When he finally returns to himself, he knows he’s being closely watched by two people, but he can’t seem to find the energy to address them. He sits up and unspools the ribbon from around his torso, brow furrowing at the way it shakes like a beaten dog.

“Ruoye, Ruoye,” He whispers, “I know, that was scary. I know you don’t like tying me like that, I know. Not your fault. We’re okay now.”

The last time Hua Cheng saw that damned silk, its relationship with His Highness was rocky at best. To see that his God still has the thing and is comforting it as if it’s the one most harmed makes Hua Cheng’s heart ache. Always so gracious, so kind, so much better than Hua Cheng or anyone else could ever deserve. As soon as the silk is tucked back around Xie Lian’s wrist, Hua Cheng breaks the fragile silence of the garden.

“Your Highness, I cannot apologize enough for how you were treated on-” Hua Cheng cuts off with something suspiciously like a sob, “-on my behalf. You will be compensated with whatever you desire.”

“I haven’t been a prince in a very long time, my lord, and need no compensation,” His voice is completely steady, not a trace of fear remaining, “I apologize for requiring assistance on my first day in your service.”

“No, no no no. You are not in my service, Your Highness,” I’m in yours, let me fix this, let me help, don’t ever let me see you tied down again, “Although I admire your dedication to helping that village even after what they did to you.”

“Ah, it was nothing, really. I shouldn’t be so... affected after all these years,” Xie Lian forces the memories back in their box, “If I am not to be in your service, how shall I repay what is owed?”

Hua Cheng freezes. After all of that, after being sacrificed yet again, after I gave him an out... He still wants to repay the debt of the man who put him there? I should carve that bastard apart, I should burn that temple to the ground. My God, my love, you are allowed to protect yourself. If you won’t, please allow me to do it for you.

“Why didn’t you run?” Hua Cheng asks, voice cracking, “Why didn’t you run away? You could’ve broken those ropes, there’s no way those villagers could have truly held you down.”

“If I ran, a young maiden would have been tied down in my stead. She shouldn’t have to experience that, but it’s nothing I haven’t been through before.”

“Just because you’ve been through it before, that means you have to experience it again? Your Highness, please, why wouldn’t you-”

“Isn’t it better if only one person has to bear those memories?” Xie Lian whispers, “Isn’t it better to spare someone else the pain?”

No! Not if it’s you, Your Highness! Why can you take all the world’s pain and I can’t take any from you? If you must be a lamb, please let me be your sheepdog.

“It isn’t. It isn’t better, Your Highness, you’ve already suffered so much,” Hua Cheng’s shoulders rise and fall with ragged breaths, “You’ve suffered so much. Please let me share the burden.”

He’s being far too up front, a far cry from the subtly he’d planned. It’s so obvious that he knows exactly who Xie Lian is, that he still wishes to serve. He fears that he’s going to spook his God, scare him off with the weight of his devotion. There is nothing he wants more than to be of use, and he knows he can be, for once. He can take some of the pain, all of it even, if only His Highness would let him. This is almost certainly an overwhelming and terrifying prospect for Xie Lian, he’s aware. His conviction is a force of nature, the very essence of his very powerful being. If he keeps talking like this, he’s certain to be yet another source of fear for his God. He knows this, and yet he just can’t stop himself from begging his God to be selfish for once.

“I- I don’t want to think about this,” Xie Lian murmurs, breathing starting to speed up, “Please don’t ask me anything more.”

“Alright, Your Highness. It’s alright. We don’t have to talk about it,” Not right now, at least, “You’ve had a difficult night. Please, come inside for a meal.”

“Ah, you’re too kind, but a meal would be lovely. I really must insist on repaying you, though.”

“Then be my companion. It can be lonely, being a feared ghost. Allow me to care for you, stay in my manor, allow yourself to rest.” Hua Cheng blurts on impulse, so desperate to keep him at least for a night, just one night to rest his head.

“Ah? That sounds nice, my lord, but I am unlikely to be ‘companion’ material. I don’t want to disappoint but I won’t be much use as a bed warmer.”

“A bed-? No! No, absolutely not, Your Highness,” Hua Cheng sputters, images flooding his head unbidden. He forces those unrealistic, blasphemous fantasies back down before saying, “I truly only ask that you rest and let me help you. It pains me to see you suffer, easing your pain would ease my own.”

“You know me,” Xie Lian states plainly, “And I can’t imagine why you’d want to take care of me, but I won’t complain. If I may ask, how did we meet?”

“You may. Before I tell you, please make use of the bathing chambers. I will provide clean clothes for you, as well.” It can’t be comfortable to be covered in melon juice and heaven knows what else.

“Yes, right, I’m sure I stink to high heaven. Sincerest apologies, my lord. I will clean up before entering your dining hall. I wouldn’t want to dirty your nice home.”

“You could never dirty anything, Your Highness, I only want you to be comfortable.” And it isn’t a home until you’re in it.

Xie Lian fixes him with an incredulous look, but shrugs, seemingly content to go with the flow. Far, far too willing to go with the flow, to roll with the punches. Hua Cheng lets a single butterfly spring into existence.

“Follow the butterfly, it will bring you to a guest room. There is an attached bathroom and clean clothes in the wardrobe. Everything there is yours, until you decide to leave. If you need anything else, speak to the butterfly and I will be there. When you’re ready, it can also lead you to the dining hall. I await your presence, Your Highness.”

Hua Cheng bows and heads inside, not allowing himself to genuinely run away until he’s out of his God’s sight. He makes an immediate beeline to his studio, Yin Yu following close behind before lingering at the doorway.

“Chengzhu, I will have a meal prepared for your guest. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Contact the city’s best physician. Let them know I may request their help treating His Highness’ condition.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What do I do now? What the hell can I do now?” Hua Cheng mumbles, more to himself than anything. Still, Yin Yu answers.

“You can give him a meal, and a place to sleep. If he needs something more, you can give him that too. You’re doing fine, Chengzhu.”

Hua Cheng grumbles at him, something that might have been a thank you, though Yin Yu finds that hard to believe. Then he waves a hand at him, and Yin Yu accepts his dismissal. He heads off to find the city’s doctors, ask around for who has the best track record with mortals and psychological ailments. It would be no surprise for Xie Lian to be left scarred even just by everything that has transpired in the scant few hours Yin Yu has known him. It is dreadfully alarming for him to be almost completely back to normal already. How often must he go through such things to be able to spring back like this?

Hua Cheng lays in his studio, tucked up against the skirts of a partially completed statue. It is selfish of him to curl so familiarly around the stone, but he does not know what else to do. He desperately needs to settle down before His Highness heads to the dining hall. So he rests his head against the shins of the statue, eye flicking up to the incomplete face of his God. He stays like that until his chest stops heaving, then hauls himself off to fuss with the decorations of the dining hall.

Everything still looks weird and wrong by the time His Highness walks in, but Hua Cheng has chalked that up to his own nerves more than anything specific. Nothing is ever going to be good enough for His Highness, especially not the paintings hanging on the walls. They are technically beautiful but… tarnished by the rest of the artist’s portfolio. It feels deceitful to have them up in front of his muse when he’s still blissfully unaware of exactly how and why Hua Cheng came to be so good at the fine arts.

Ducking his head, Hua Cheng gestures for his God to have a seat at the long center table. There is a veritable feast laid out, and he doesn’t miss the way Xie Lian has to swallow hard to keep from drooling.

“Please, have whatever you’d like, Your Highness.” He murmurs, sitting down across from him.

“Thank you, my lord.”

Xie Lian grabs a plate and fills it, clearly forcing himself not to stack it higher. He is carefully restrained as he eats, but Hua Cheng can recognize the roaring hunger in him. Hua Cheng subtly nudges a platter towards him, relieved when Xie Lian takes the hint and refills his plate.

“Did the suite suit your needs, Your Highness?” Hua Cheng asks.

“It was perfect, my lord. The bath was wonderful, the clothes are so nice… What are these made of, my lord?”

Ah. Well, Hua Cheng knows exactly what those are made of. He had been too out of sorts to remove the butterfly silk robes from the wardrobe earlier. He’d made them in a haze of horrible optimism a few decades ago. Now that his God is here, he can recognize just how disgusting it must feel to unwittingly put on clothing made out of pure undying devotion. Not just pure undying devotion as the motive, but literally as the raw material.

“Ghost silk, Your Highness.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth.

“It’s made out of ghosts? Or, are there ghost silkworms?”

“Closer to the second, Your Highness. It is certainly not made out of ghosts.” Well, not ghosts. Singular ghost.

“Ah. That’s a relief, my lord. I would hate to wear something a ghost had to die for,” He pauses to take a bite, “Do ghost silkworms look like their living counterparts?”

At this point, it would be so much worse for Hua Cheng to try and continue the deception.

“They aren’t worms, Your Highness,” Hua Cheng murmurs, sending two butterflies to dance over Xie Lian’s head, shedding little strands of silk as the fly, “It can be lonely and boring being what I am. I have learned many hobbies to pass the time, including weaving and sewing.”

“You made these, my lord?” Xie Lian half shouts, but does not look horrified as Hua Cheng had feared, “They’re beautiful! No need to be so humble, only calling it ‘ghost silk.’ This is your silk, and how impressive that is.”

“Thank you, Your Highness, I am very glad you like them. There are more in the wardrobe if you’d like to wear them.”

“I would love to, my lord. Do you treat all your companions this well?”

“Yes, of course.”

Another little deception. Hua Cheng will punish himself for it later. For now, his God seems to be content to let Hua Cheng take care of him as long as he doesn’t view it as anything Hua Cheng is going out of his way for. That benefit far outweighs the guilt he feels for lying by omission.

“So, where did we meet, my lord?” Xie Lian asks, “I feel like I would remember someone like you.”

“I looked… different at the time. I just was different. Nothing memorable about me then, Your Highness.” Not in a good way, anyway.

“I’m sure I would remember. What did you look like when last we met?”

Hua Cheng takes a deep, deep breath. When he lets it out, his form shifts. It was so brief and so long ago, His Highness probably doesn’t remember him, nor should he. He hasn’t worn this form in centuries, and has no real desire to bring it back. But, it would be so much easier just to show his God what he was back then. His robes darken, silver jewelry changing to black armor, a mask over his face.

“Your Highness,” He murmurs, voice just a little higher, “I don’t expect-”

Hua Cheng is cut off by Xie Lian hurling himself over the table and into his arms. Both of them are thrown to the floor with the force, Hua Cheng on his back with his God pinning him to the rug. His face is tucked into the ghost’s neck, tears dampening his collar. He has a death grip on him like he’ll disperse again if he doesn’t hold tight enough. Hua Cheng gently wraps both arms around his shaking back, stroking slowly up and down his spine. It’s so much contact that he’s almost beside himself with it. He wasn’t expecting recognition, let alone this.

Abruptly, his God manhandles him so they’re both sitting up, mask pressed into the white robes over his chest. Xie Lian is panting, clinging him so hard that he’s nearly crushing the porcelain to dust against his own ribs. Hua Cheng struggles briefly, not wanting to bruise his God, even accidentally. But Xie Lian grabs him tighter, holding him closer, closer, closer, until a cracking sound makes them both flinch.

Shoving him back, Xie Lian still clings to Hua Cheng’s shoulders as he nervously inspects his face. One hand cups his cheek and- and it touches skin. The mask is split in two between them. Hua Cheng’s eyes momentarily widen in shock before he slams them shut.

“Your Highness-” Hua Cheng starts, voice trembling.

“Shh, my dear, sweet Wu Ming. Please, we can talk later. I missed you so much, please just let me hold you for a moment.”

Hua Cheng nods, unable to deny the request. Selfishly, he would very much like to be held, even though he knows he should apologize for subjecting his God to such an unsightly view. Xie Lian gathers him back in close, unaware of his ghost’s self loathing spiral. He drags both of them backwards so Hua Cheng is laying over him, Xie Lian’s arms and legs keeping him locked in place. Hua Cheng doesn’t open his eyes again, but he wouldn’t be able to see anything even if he did. His face is tucked into the side of his God’s neck, anchored in place by a hand in his hair. Like this, he can feel the way his breathing stutters around sobs, the rapid puffs of air against the crown of his head. After what could’ve been five hours or five minutes, Xie Lian releases him.

“Thank you,” He sighs, “And of course I remember you, my dear ghost.”

“Is there anything I can do for you, Your Highness? I did not mean to upset you, showing you that form.”

“I’m not upset, I’m so- so relieved. I missed you, I grieved you, I’m so happy you’re okay.”

Xie Lian sits up, tugging Hua Cheng with him. He cradles his face again, thumb stroking under his disgusting, cursed eye. Between blinks, Hua Cheng shifts it to be more palatable, a matching brown to the other one. Xie Lian frowns, thumb pausing.

“If it’s red, it can stay red,” He murmurs, “My sweet ghost, it isn’t going to scare me.”

Hua Cheng, floored at how many times Xie Lian has called him “his” and “dear” and “sweet” over the course of one meal, falls back into his true form.

“It was red, but it’s gone now,” He says, tapping the patch, “I needed it for something.”

“What in the world did you need your eyeball for that it couldn’t remain in your head?” Xie Lian blurts then cringes, “I am so sorry, that was so rude-”

“A blood sacrifice to forge my weapon,” He answers, stopping his God from continuing an apology to such an undeserving thing, “I held no love for the thing anyway, Your Highness.”

“Very noble of you to use your own flesh rather than someone else’s. Not that I would expect anything different from my selfless little ghost,” He pauses, “What would you like for me to call you?”

“If Your Highness wouldn’t mind, I would like you to call me San Lang.”

“Alright, San Lang. Could you please call me something other than ‘Your Highness?’ It’s really far too formal; I would like to be on equal footing with you.”

“Gege?”

“That works,” Xie Lian smiles at him and Hua Cheng feels warm all over, “Goodness, how long were we on the floor? I feel like I could eat again.”

“Then you should, gege. The table is charmed so everything should still be warm. Or if you’d like something else, I can arrange that.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Xie Lian says, standing and pulling Hua Cheng to his feet as well, “You’re already spoiling me rotten, San Lang.”

I hardly think that allowing you to eat constitutes spoiling, Your Highness! Hua Cheng thinks, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pushes another tray over to Xie Lian and happily watches him eat his fill, head propped in his hand. They sit in silence, Xie Lian fully focused on his meal and Hua Cheng fully focused on Xie Lian. He wonders when the last time he had a full meal was, and slides over plate after plate until Xie Lian shakes his head.

“Thank you, San Lang,” Xie Lian yawns halfway through, “Is- is the deal still that I stay here as your companion?”

“If you’d like for it to be, Your Highness. I would never hold you against your will.”

“I want to stay with you and the guest bed seems really-” He yawns again- “-nice. Heavens, I’m so sorry. How rude of me to do that at the table.”

“No need to apologize, gege. You’ve had a long day. Would you like me to walk you back to your room?”

Xie Lian nods, taking Hua Cheng’s arm when he offers it. He leans heavily on his shoulder, so tired after everything that’s happened in the past twenty four hours. It was all so much and he missed a night’s sleep in the temple. Hua Cheng can hardly blame him for nearly dozing off as they walk; he isn’t far from that himself. As soon as Xie Lian reaches the bed, he pitches face first into the covers, squirming his way under the blankets.

“Goodnight, gege. I will see you in the morning.” Hua Cheng says softly, turning to leave.

“Wait! Wait, would you stay, just for tonight?” Xie Lian murmurs, so warm and sleepy that Hua Cheng can hardly stand it, “I don’t want to impose on you, it’s just… It’s hard to believe this is real. I think if I wake up alone… Well, I might not remember that I’m not really alone anymore.”

“I meant when I said it’s lonely being what I am. I’ll gladly stay if you’d like, gege.”

“C’mere, then.” Xie Lian mumbles, tossing back the covers and patting the bed beside him.

And Hua Cheng is weak for him, slipping into bed and tucking them both in. Xie Lian curls against his side, still gripping him like he’ll disappear again. Hua Cheng allows himself to wrap an arm around him, eye fluttering shut. Xie Lian grows pliant with sleep, muscles soft and limp. His bones are still sharp, digging into Hua Cheng where they’re pressed together. He is very obviously strong and starved, much like Hua Cheng was for most of his short life. It hurts to be hungry like that, he knows. He also knows that yesterday was the last day His Highness will feel like that if Hua Cheng has anything to say about it.

As he drifts off to sleep, Hua Cheng’s other hand comes up to rest over Xie Lian’s, lacing their fingers where they lay over his chest. If he’d been more awake, he would’ve suppressed the urge, but as it stands, the last thing he feels before finally succumbing to sleep is Xie Lian squeezing his hand back.

Surprisingly, Hua Cheng sleeps through to the next morning. He isn’t sure exactly how long he was out for because he has no idea when they finally clambered into bed. Be that as it may, he feels rested. He gently strokes up and down Xie Lian’s back again; he seemed to like that earlier. Xie Lian is still sound asleep, and of course he’d be exhausted after the day and night he had. Hua Cheng gently holds his hand again, absolutely delighted when his still sleeping God takes the initiative to lace their fingers. As Hua Cheng lays there, he feels the distinct pull of someone trying to contact him in the array.

[What is it.] He grouses.

[Sir, I’ve contacted the doctor as requested. Is there anything else you need from me?]

[Contact the chef and let her know she’s to make three square meals a day and a supply of snacks fit for a mortal. He’s far too used to going without; I worry he won’t eat unless food is brought to him.]

[Of course, sir. And if I may, congratulations, Chengzhu.]

Hua Cheng cuts the connection before he can do something stupid like thank his assistant. Xie Lian squirms a little on top of him, yawning wide enough to make his eyes water before sitting up.

“Good morning, San Lang.” Xie Lian says, voice still rough from sleep.

“Good morning, gege,” Hua Cheng sits up as well, “Do you feel rested? Would you like breakfast brought to you here? We could also go to the dining hall, or the gardens.”

“It wouldn’t be too much work to eat in the gardens?”

“Of course not, Your Highness. I’ll have my assistant bring everything as soon as you’re ready.”

“Yes, I should get dressed first, shouldn’t I.” Xie Lian doesn’t mention being called by title, figures Hua Cheng has been using it for hundreds of years and a new name will take some getting used to. For him, at least. Xie Lian is thrilled to have an actual name for his ghost.

“I’ll step out. Here,” Hua Cheng says, leaving a butterfly again, “It can lead you to the garden when you’re ready, and I can give you a tour of the manor once you’ve eaten.”

“San Lang, you’d really let me stay here? It isn’t an imposition for you to pick up strays off the street? Or off an altar, as it were.” Xie Lian suppresses a laugh at his own joke, and Hua Cheng looks briefly horrified before he can school his expression back to normal.

“No imposition, gege. I want you to stay.” He says after taking a moment to gather himself.

“Then I will. But you have to let me earn my keep.”

“I suppose I can find some things for you to do, if you insist.”

“I do. I won’t take advantage of your kindness, not ever again.”

Hua Cheng nods, having already expected something like this. Obviously, he would never make Xie Lian work a day in his life. All this wealth and status meant nothing until yesterday, when he was finally able to provide his God with a bath, a meal, and a bed fit for a king. Of course, Hua Cheng would love to wait on him hand and foot everyday for as long as they both shall live, but if Xie Lian feels the need to work, then he will. Simple as that.

“You could help maintain the armory, if you’d like,” Hua Cheng says, smiling at the way Xie Lian lights up at the prospect, “I’m sure any weapon would be honored to be handled by you.”

“I’d love that, but it hardly seems like work.”

“Nonsense, gege. It’s something that needs to be done, no rules against enjoying your job.”

Xie Lian looks at him like he knows exactly what Hua Cheng is doing, but doesn’t push. He stands and starts rifling through the wardrobe, pausing to ask if the cream colored robe with gold trimming around the collar is made of butterfly silk as well. When Hua Cheng confirms it is, he grins and runs his fingers along a seam.

“I thought so,” He says, “It feels safe the way the other did. Is it alright for me to wear this one today?”

“Of course, gege,” I’m so glad you associate me with safety, please let me protect you. Please don’t hate me for how happy it makes me to see you dressed in my essence, please don’t hate me for how much I love you, “Everything here is yours. Wear whatever you’d like.”

“I’ll get dressed and be out in a minute, then.”

Stepping out of the room, Hua Cheng takes a moment to not quite squeal as soon as the door is shut. This manifests as a swarm of butterflies taking off down the hall, zipping around in eager circles to burn off some of the nerves he feels. After contacting Yin Yu, he heads to the garden, lays a blanket on the grass next to a patch of soft white flowers. He’s still fussing with it, making sure absolutely no sticks or stones lay beneath, when Xie Lian walks over.

“Oh, San Lang, it’s beautiful here. I didn’t notice earlier. And it smells so nice!”

“Thank you, Your Highness. Breakfast will be here very soon. If anything isn’t to your liking, I can always get you something else.”

“Ah, not to worry, I’ll eat pretty much anything.”

That is exactly why I worry, Your Highness! Hua Cheng sighs but doesn’t say anything. He pats the blanket beside him and Xie Lian sits down, his gaze catching on the flowers. He strokes gently over the petals with his thumb, soft melancholy in his eyes. When Yin Yu arrives, Xie Lian is still cradling the blossom in his hand.

“Ah, it’s you!” He says, eyes snapping up, “I’m so sorry for being such a bother yesterday. Thank you for all your help, and I’m terribly sorry you had to be so close to me when I smelled like rotting fruit.”

He tries to bow, but is quickly stopped by Hua Cheng and Yin Yu urging him up, Hua Cheng with a gentle touch to his elbows, Yin Yu with frantic words.

“Please, don’t lower yourself to me, Your Highness! And there’s no need to apologize. It’s hardly your fault you ended up like that,” Yin Yu pauses, mask covering his wry smile, “And I work in Ghost City, I smell far worse things every single day.”

“Still, I don’t want to be a burden, especially not for my San Lang’s friends.”

“You were not a burden, Your Highness.” Yin Yu says, noticing but wisely not mentioning how quickly Hua Cheng has started putting on the moves.

“And he isn’t really a friend, he’s my employee.”

“Ah? But you seemed close yesterday.”

“...He’s a good assistant.”

Xie Lian makes that disbelieving face again, and again shrugs it off and turns his attention to the tray in Yin Yu’s hands. As soon as he sets it down, Xie Lian grabs a bowl of congee with honey and peaches, still warm as he takes a bite. His full attention is on the food, so he doesn’t notice Yin Yu slip away, nor the way Hua Cheng’s eye fills with sorrow at the way he eats like it’s his last meal. Hua Cheng eats some as well, but mostly just nudges fruits and tea cakes at Xie Lian.

“I can’t have my companion going hungry,” He says, “I know you’ve starved, and probably have for a very long time now. That ends now, gege. Eat as much as you’d like.”

“Is it really alright for me to have this? To let you take care of me? After everything I did to you, you still want to help me?” His hand absently wraps around his ankle.

“All I’ve ever wanted is to take care of you. You should be safe, and warm, and well fed,” He pauses, “I want to protect you, Your Highness.”

This tugs on a memory Xie Lian keeps locked away. He doesn’t dare let himself hope just yet. His little ghost who came back for love, said he wouldn’t let his beloved feel guilt over his choice to linger. The same ghost who has now apparently moved heaven and earth for him during their time apart, who keeps a supply of those achingly familiar flowers in bloom year round.

If he really is Wu Ming’s beloved, he is going to need to have a talk with him. It’s not that he’s necessarily opposed to the idea. No, he wouldn’t mind at all spending the rest of his days with Hua Cheng. He isn’t sure if he’d ever be able to fulfill all the usual duties of the marital bed, but he could certainly wake up beside him every morning. Xie Lian pauses this train of thought. I’m getting ahead of myself, he thinks, To be considering marriage so soon... What has gotten into me? Shaking himself, he refocuses on the conversation they’d need to have before even thinking about doing anything else. He was so, so cruel to Wu Ming. He named him Wu Ming, for heaven’s sake! As much as it pains him to think about, he owes it to Hua Cheng to apologize for all that happened back then.

“You truly don’t resent me for what I’ve done?” That is not what Xie Lian meant to say.

“No, Your Highness. You didn’t give in to hatred.” Hua Cheng says firmly.

“Not- not that. What I did to you, specifically.”

“You didn’t do anything to me.”

“I did! I strangled you-” Xie Lian’s voice raises in volume and pitch. He does not want to be yelling at his ghost, but can’t seem to stay calm enough to speak normally.

“I don’t need to breathe-” Hua Cheng tries to stop his God from spiraling, knows he won’t succeed.

“-mocked your devotion-”

“-you had every right to doubt-”

“-I killed you! I killed you, why aren’t you mad at me?” His voice cracks at the end.

“Because you didn’t. You didn’t kill me, Your Highness. I made my own choice and I’d do it again.” Hua Cheng murmurs, eye burning with conviction.

“Please don’t say that. I don’t want you to kill yourself to clean up my messes. It was- I was the one who released the spirits, it was my responsibility to appease them. I really, truly cannot apologize enough.”

“I forgive you, Your Highness. I forgave you a long time ago.”

Xie Lian sets aside his plate and takes a deep breath, willing himself not to burst into tears and throw himself at Hua Cheng again. Truly, what has gotten into him? He’s never this touchy, never so emotional. Clenching his hands over his knees, he fights to keep them there, not just grab his ghost and cling and cling and never let go. His knuckles go white and he still can’t fully resist the urge.

“May I hold you again?” He at least asks this time, doesn’t just vault over a table and accost him.

“Of course, Your Highness.” Hua Cheng says gently, spreading his arms.

Something in Xie Lian breaks. How long has it been since he was met with open arms? He buries his face in Hua Cheng’s chest, hands fisting in the red fabric over his back. Hua Cheng cradles him, one hand tracing softly up and down his spine, the other threaded in his hair.

“I’m so sorry,” He sniffles, “My dear ghost, so kind to me and I was... I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t blame you, I have never blamed you, Your Highness. It’s alright.”

“It’s not! I was awful to you, you didn’t deserve that-” The words come out a little muffled as Xie Lian shoves his face deeper into Hua Cheng’s lapels.

“You were hurt and grieving-” He says softly, hand still rubbing soothingly over his back.

“That doesn’t give me the right to take it out on you! Please, you’re allowed to be upset that you were treated like that. You should hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Your Highness. I could never, ever hate you.” He whispers towards the end, reverence bleeding into his tone.

Xie Lian tries to muffle his wails in Hua Cheng’s chest, but isn’t entirely successful. He’s held tighter in return, pulled forward until he’s able to wrap all four limbs around him. Hua Cheng tucks his face in his God’s hair, still gently running his fingers through the ends. When Xie Lian’s sobs finally start to taper off, he leans back but keeps his legs locked behind Hua Cheng’s back, hands resting on his shoulders.

“Ah, I’m sorry I keep crying on you,” He murmurs, ducking his head so Hua Cheng can’t see what a mess he is, “I missed you, San Lang. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Your Highness.”

“I just don’t understand why. What did I ever do to earn such devotion?”

“It wasn’t just one thing, Your Highness. Really, it was less something you did, and more something you are. You are so kind. Even when you weren’t-” Because Hua Cheng is not wholly blind, he knows that Xie Lian lashed out at everything and everyone. He also knows why he did that, and wouldn’t hold it against him- “-you never stayed cruel. You stayed yourself.”

“You’re far too good to me, San Lang. I’m so happy you’re here.”

Xie Lian slumps forward, just so drained still. His face presses against Hua Cheng’s neck, breathing coming slow and even. Before he can fall asleep, Hua Cheng gently asks if he’d like to go back to bed. He nods, squeaking a little when he’s lifted off the ground. But he quickly settles into the hold, still gripping Hua Cheng’s robes. Hua Cheng asks if he’d like him to stay again and Xie Lian tightens his legs around his waist in answer. As they lay tangled with each other, Hua Cheng still stroking up and down his back, Xie Lian realizes he didn’t ask about Wu Ming’s beloved.

“Did you ever find your beloved?” He murmurs, face still smushed into his ghost’s neck.

“Yes.” Hua Cheng’s tone is entirely neutral, and Xie Lian grows even more suspicious.

“That’s good. I hope it didn’t take too long.”

“It was well worth the wait.”

“Where did you find them?” In a temple, perhaps?

“Is there something else Your Highness is trying to ask me?” Hua Cheng says nervously, hand stuttering in its motion.

“Is it me?” Xie Lian asks, then immediately backpedals, “I’m not so conceited as to think it is, there have just been a few things you said that made me think maybe-”

“It’s you, Your Highness,” He whispers, aching with grief, “It has only ever been you.”

“Then, is it really alright for you to lay here like this?”

Hua Cheng feels something in him splinter, and starts to extricate himself from Xie Lian’s hold.

“Wait! Wait, I’m not asking you to leave, I didn’t mean it like that,” He sounds panicked as he grapples at Hua Cheng’s back to drag him back down, “You’ve been a perfect gentleman. It’s just that I’ve already asked so much of you, I don’t want to burden you.”

“It could never be a burden to hold you, Your Highness.” Hua Cheng settles back into his embrace, feeling something in his chest come loose. Something old and tangled and rotten finally coming unstuck, leaving him feeling light and off kilter and overjoyed.

“Even if I can’t do more than this?”

“This is already much more than I ever could have hoped for, Your Highness.”

“I think I’ve loved you for a very long time. Please stay with me.”

And Hua Cheng sobs. He does not intend to, didn’t even feel it coming, yet it rips itself from his throat all the same. His God hugs him tighter, shifting them so he can hide his face in Xie Lian’s chest. Xie Lian rubs his shoulders, holds him tenderly, lets him cry.

He’s been waiting for so long to even see his God again, let alone be allowed to hold him. Even in his wildest dreams he never really thought His Highness would love him back. He imagined what it would be like if he did, of course, but never believed it could happen. Hua Cheng was not lovable in life, even less so in death. He is a loathsome creature and yet here he is, sobbing with his face buried in his God’s chest and still being held like he’s something precious. His back heaves with the next sob, latching on to the idea that he could be precious, that his God meant it when he called him dear.

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s a lot, I’m sure, but everything’s alright. I’m not going anywhere, my dear ghost.”

Hua Cheng lets out an involuntary little whimper at that, then another out of embarrassment about the first. He’s staying, he’s staying, he’s staying! He knows what I am and he’s still staying! He isn’t afraid of me! I love him, I love him more than anyone has ever loved anything and he isn’t scared of me. Nuzzling into his God’s chest, he tries to calm himself down. Easier said than done, given the total upheaval of everything he thought could ever be possible. He sniffles, reluctantly releasing Xie Lian with one arm so he can wipe his face. Xie Lian gently cups his cheek once it’s dry and Hua Cheng doesn’t resist the urge to lean into his palm.

“Are you okay, San Lang?”

“This is the best day of my existence,” He answers honestly, voice still wet and hoarse, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Ah, San Lang, I’d still prefer if you called me gege.”

Hua Cheng chants it like a mantra under his breath while Xie Lian gently cradles him, rocking them back and forth. He’s finally stopped crying but is still trembling and out of sorts, resting his head in the crook of Xie Lian’s neck. Without intending to, he presses his lips just below his ear. Xie Lian freezes briefly, and Hua Cheng stiffens in return.

“I shouldn’t have just- I didn’t mean to- It won’t happen again, Your Highness.” He starts to scramble back, again stopped by Xie Lian tugging him close.

“It’s alright! I was just surprised,” Xie Lian pets his hair in reassurance, “You may kiss me, if you’d like.”

Which I so obviously would like, Your Highness! Hua Cheng thinks, frazzled. Still, he gathers himself together enough to ask-

“Where?”

“Anywhere?” Xie Lian starts, pausing when Hua Cheng makes a sound like a duck getting run over by an ox cart, “Within reason! With clothes on! For- for now, at least, ah-”

Several more ducks meet the same fate before Hua Cheng is able to speak.

“On the lips?” His voice comes out higher and squeakier than it has in centuries, feeling every bit the nervous, love struck little soldier he was all that time ago.

“Yes, yes I think that would be nice.”

Hua Cheng lifts his face out of Xie Lian’s neck, pausing to cup his cheek, thrilled when Xie Lian covers that hand with his own. He isn’t sure who leans in first, but as soon as their lips brush nothing else matters. His God still has not unwrapped his legs from Hua Cheng’s hips, using the leverage to plaster them closer together. It is a very brief, chaste kiss and Hua Cheng’s heart still feels like it could burst from it. Xie Lian is so adorably pink below him when he pulls away, eyes warm and adoring.

“I love you, Your Highness.” He whispers, words slipping past his defenses.

“I love you too, my San Lang. And please, there’s no need to call me ‘Your Highness.’”

“Gege,” He amends, leaning in again, “May I kiss you?”

Xie Lian nods, holding the back of his head and bringing their lips together. There is no tongue, no one’s lips part, just gentle connection over and over until Hua Cheng is shaking with the strength of his affection. It forces him to pull away, nuzzle back into the safety of his God’s neck.

“I can keep going if you wish.” He murmurs against warm skin.

“But?” Xie Lian prompts when he doesn’t elaborate.

“But this is all... overwhelming. I am elated to be here with you like this, it’s just-” Hua Cheng stops, pivots, “I truly can continue, I want to continue. I just-” I also want to cry, maybe faint- “It might be best to pause for now.”

“Okay, San Lang. Really, it’s alright, don’t sound so guilty. We have had a long few days, let’s just rest for now.”

“Thank you, my love.”

Hua Cheng can feel the way heat spreads down Xie Lian’s neck at the term of endearment, can imagine the pretty flush on his skin. He already knows he’ll be calling him that all the time. It takes a while for them both to settle after all that. Xie Lian traces up and down his back, legs finally starting to unwind as he falls asleep. The solid weight of his wonderful ghost on top of him is so soothing, like the comforting weight of thick blankets in winter and even nicer than that. Xie Lian wants to tell him how safe he feels, that he is doing an amazing job protecting his beloved. Both are sound asleep before he can say a word.

Xie Lian wakes up with an impression of Hua Cheng’s silver necklaces on his cheek, a mirror image of the butterflies on his chest. Hua Cheng chuckles fondly at him, a single butterfly landing on his face to heal the indentation.

Later that evening, Yin Yu makes a wrong turn in Hua Cheng’s horrible maze of a house and is surprised to find that Xie Lian is half in Hua Cheng’s lap in the library. He’s tucked up against his side, one long arm draped around his shoulders. Xie Lian is leaning into him, head resting on his shoulder. It’s way more touching than necessary just to share a scroll. If anything, the scroll just feels like an excuse for them to be all over each other, some plausible deniability.

Yin Yu thought that Hua Cheng would probably have some sort of relationship with Xie Lian whether romantic or otherwise. He is very charismatic and far too willing to reshape himself to fit whatever Xie Lian wants. That being said, he certainly didn’t think it would be this immediate and this intimate.

“Thank you again!” Xie Lian says brightly when he spots him, giving him a polite little wave with the hand not holding Hua Cheng’s.

Perhaps the most surprising event of the night is Hua Cheng’s muttered thanks and promise of anything he wants as payment for his help.

After that, it isn’t surprising at all when he’s sent to buy red dye and a second loom a few days later.