Work Text:
The late afternoon sun filtered through the modest paper windows of Puqi Shrine, casting a warm, golden glow across the worn wooden floorboards. Inside, the quiet was absolute, broken only by the faint, rhythmic ticking of a distant cicada outside and the gentle simmer of a small pot of herbal tea resting over a low fire. The air carried the crisp, earthy scent of fresh ink mixed with the faint fragrance of the wild lotus blossoms Xie Lian had placed in a chipped porcelain vase that morning.
Before heading out to the village market to assist an elderly neighbor with a broken cart, Xie Lian had spent nearly two hours attempting to guide Hua Cheng’s brush strokes. The Supreme Ghost King, feared across the three realms as Crimson Rain Sought Flower, was entirely helpless when it came to the art of calligraphy. His characters looked less like words and more like a chaotic pile of dry twigs tossed about by a violent gale.
With extreme patience, Xie Lian had carefully written out a sheet of perfect model strokes, gently placing his hand over Hua Cheng’s to guide the proper weight and trajectory of the brush. "San Lang, just practice these basic lines while I am gone," Xie Lian had instructed with a warm, encouraging smile. "Do not rush. Take your time with each stroke."
Now, nearly an hour later, the wooden door creaked open as Xie Lian stepped back inside. He had expected to see a focused, diligent student, or perhaps a mountain of ruined paper. Instead, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Hua Cheng was slouched slightly over the low table, a posture he would never maintain in public, looking entirely vulnerable. His chin was propped up by his left hand, and his right hand held the wolf-hair brush loosely between two long, pale fingers. He wasn't looking at the parchment at all. A single drop of dark, glossy ink had gathered at the tip of the brush, hanging precariously before dropping with a soft splat onto the clean white paper below, blooming like a black winter flower.
Hua Cheng’s single obsidian eye was fixed entirely on the empty doorway where Xie Lian had left. His lips were parted slightly, and his usually sharp, calculating features were completely softened by a hopelessly dazed, faraway expression. He was utterly, helplessly lost in a daydream, likely replaying the feeling of Xie Lian’s fingers wrapped around his hand from earlier.
Amused by the sheer dedication of his ghost’s pining, a sudden wave of playful mischief washed over Xie Lian. He decided to seize the opportunity.
Stepping silently into the room, Xie Lian smoothed down the front of his white cultivator robes. He adjusted his posture, straightening his spine and pulling his shoulders back. In an instant, the gentle, easygoing village god vanished. In his place stood the formidable, unyielding figure who had once commanded the respect and terror of an entire kingdom. He channeled the exact, chilly aura of his past life as Fangxin Guoshi, the strict and mysterious State Preceptor of Yong'an.
He let the silence stretch for a moment before dropping his voice into a deep, velvety, and entirely authoritative tone.
"Back to work."
The effect was instantaneous and spectacular.
Hua Cheng snapped out of his reverie as if struck by a lightning bolt. His posture jerked upright, his single eye widening in sheer, unadulterated shock. The brush nearly slipped from his fingers, clattering against the inkstone.
"Gege!" Hua Cheng gasped. His voice, usually smooth and dripping with arrogant confidence, cracked into a panicked, utterly guilty squeak.
In that split second of total surprise, Hua Cheng’s absolute devotion to Xie Lian overpowered his spiritual control. His human illusion faltered for a fraction of a second. From beneath his pitch-black hair, a pair of fluffy, silver-fox ears suddenly materialized on the top of his head. Driven by pure startle reflex, the large, velvety ears pointed straight up into the air, trembling slightly. Then, as the weight of his "crime" registered, they instantly flattened flat against his dark locks, pinning themselves down in a display of absolute submission, panic, and overwhelming guilt.
Xie Lian’s breath caught in his throat. Seeing the terrifying, indomitable Lord of Ghost City reduced to a nervous, blushing mess with twitching fox ears was almost too much for his heart to bear. A deep, rosy crimson flushed across Hua Cheng’s pale cheekbones, spreading all the way to the tips of his hidden ears. He looked exactly like a guilty, soft fox caught stealing treats from a kitchen counter.
Xie Lian bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted copper, forcing his facial muscles to remain completely stone-faced. Internally, he was screaming. He is too cute! How can anyone be this adorable? He had to fight every single instinct in his body that was screaming at him to drop the act, throw his arms around the ghost king, press him against his chest, and coddle him with sweet words until the panic faded.
Instead, Xie Lian maintained his rigid posture, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at the table. He let his gaze drift over the single ink splotch on the paper.
"You know my rules," Xie Lian said, keeping his tone measured, cool, and perfectly level.
He paused, letting the heavy silence hang in the air of the shrine. Hua Cheng sat completely frozen under the scrutiny, his flattened silver ears twitching occasionally, his gaze darting nervously between the ink splotch and Xie Lian’s boots. The blush on his face only grew deeper, a beautiful, stark contrast against his snowy skin.
Slowly, deliberately, Xie Lian took a step forward, closing the distance between them. He leaned over the low wooden table, his shadow falling completely over the ghost king. He reached out with a steady hand, his slender, calloused fingers gently wrapping beneath Hua Cheng’s chin.
With a soft but unyielding pressure, Xie Lian tilted Hua Cheng’s face upward, forcing the supreme ghost to look directly into his eyes. At the sudden, intimate touch, Hua Cheng’s breath hitched completely. His long, dark eyelashes fluttered rapidly, and the crimson blush on his cheeks flared even hotter, burning like a brilliant sunset. His single eye darted away cutely for a split second, unable to handle the sheer intensity of the gaze, before locking back onto his god.
Replicating the heavy, breathtaking atmosphere of a strict master commanding his sole disciple, Xie Lian leaned a fraction closer. His voice dropped to a soft, dangerous whisper that vibrated right through the quiet space of the shrine.
"Those who do not follow the Preceptor's instructions... must face punishments."
Hua Cheng swallowed hard, his throat bobbing against Xie Lian's fingers. He was completely paralyzed, entirely powerless under his god's gentle grip. Beneath his robes, his heart began to thump wildly, a frantic, echoing rhythm against his ribs as he waited, completely captivated and utterly guilty, to find out exactly what his punishment would be.