Work Text:
“It’s fine, Dianxia,” the pretty god says, but his shoulders are stiff like poorly dried cloth. “You should attend that meeting. I’ll deal with the haunting with Crimson Rain.”
The ghost king smiles in a not-nice way. The pretty god’s shoulder become tighter and tenser, and this makes Ruoye squirmy and sad.
“San Lang...” God sighs. Now God is a little sad too, and this makes Ruoye sadder. “Be nicer to him, please. And Mu Qing, why don’t you take Ruoye along?”
“Dianxia--“ both the ghost king and the pretty god start to say, both shocked and sharp and very, very alike. Ruoye flitters out quick to drape over the pretty god’s shoulders like a hug before the pretty god can say more.
That makes the ghost king stop talking too.
Ruoye always wants to be close to God. Ruoye must look after God. But if God thinks that the pretty god needs to be looked after more then God must be right, because God is always right.
Ruoye likes to look after the pretty god too. The pretty god has gentle and clever hands, and he looked after Ruoye.
~
The ghost king and the pretty god go down to the old mountain that is important to God.
There are many mountains that are important to God.
This one is the oldest and the most important. Ruoye knows it is the most important because God comes here to visit the bones that wait, even though visiting these bones makes God’s heart hurt.
Some of the bones that wait here make all the threads in Ruoye shiver.
“No mortals have lived here since the fall of Xianle,” the pretty god says. His shoulders have been high and tense under the drape of Ruoye’s coils all day, and when he talks his teeth are clenched. “Any ghost here must be an old one, but--”
“But it was you who freed the lingering spirits of Xianle,” the ghost king says, and he smiles his not-nice smile. “Did you let one slip by, Xuan Zhen? I would have thought that since it lead to your ascension--”
The pretty god’s face goes red like a splash of blood across Ruoye’s threads. The ghost king is being mean, and this makes Ruoye angry.
The ghost king should not be mean to the pretty god.
Ruoye whips off the pretty god’s shoulders and loops around the ghost king’s mouth. The ghost will not say any more mean things to the pretty god. Ruoye won’t let him. Even if the ghost king is grabbing hard at Ruoye’s coils and pulling and cursing.
“What the--?” the ghost king snarls a very rude word. Ruoye tries to squeeze down harder, but the ghost king grips too tightly and pulls. “What do you think you’re doing, Xuan Zhen?! Using Dianxia’s spiritual weapon against his--”
“I’m not doing anything!” the pretty god shouts, but he’s backing away from where Ruoye and the ghost king are all tangled up, and there’s a brightness in his eyes like he’s scared.
This makes Ruoye very, very angry.
The ghost king is stronger than the pretty god. The ghost king knows he is stronger and is still shouting fiercely at the pretty god to scare him. The ghost king is a bully.
Ruoye grow long, long, too long for the ghost king to catch, and Ruoye smacks the ghost king.
The ghost king shouts. So does the pretty god. E-Ming jumps high into the air and slashes at Ruoye’s silk.
“Stop it!” the pretty god screams, panic-scared. “Ruoye, come here-- Crimson Rain, call your weapon off--”
“I’m trying!” the ghost king roars. “You think I’d abuse Dianxia’s spiritual device like you? E-Ming--!!!”
Rouye lashes around E-Ming, looping and looping and looping until E-Ming is wrapped like a spring roll by Ruoye’s coils. E-Ming quivers angrily at Ruoye and glares with a big red eye.
Ruoye quivers back, angrier.
God sent Ruoye to look after the pretty god. Ruoye will protect the pretty god from everything, even the ghost king, because the pretty god is God’s friend. Friends should not be bullied.
E-Ming jitters and clatters and shakes.
Ruoye shivers and squeezes.
E-Ming blinks, and finally E-Ming agrees.
Ruoye sets E-Ming down. E-Ming hop-hop-hops all the way in front of the pretty god, and quivers, and blinks up at the pretty god with a big liquid eye.
“E-Ming,” the ghost king hisses. Ruoye wraps around him tighter.
“E-Ming,” the pretty god echoes, quieter than the ghost king, and his cheeks are pink like the flowers outside God’s house. E-Ming hops again and dances around the pretty god’s feet.
The ghost king says many more very rude words. Ruoye squeezes him.
“E-Ming,” the pretty god whispers again, so softly that Ruoye wouldn’t hear if Ruoye wasn’t made of part of God. The pretty god’s hand is trembling as much as E-Ming is quivering, but he reaches out and pets E-Ming as soft as a well-washed cloth, and the ghost king goes quiet too.
“Ruoye,” the pretty god says. His hands still shake, and his voice shakes too, but he looks up at Ruoye and smiles. “Let Crimson Rain go, please. It’s all right.”
Ruoye does.
Ruoye lets the ghost king go, and drifts to the pretty god, and twists into a big ball in the pretty god’s arms that is soft and nice to squish.
The pretty god hugs Ruoye tight. “Ruoye,” he says, soft like he is breaking, “thank you.”
~
The ghost king has stomped away with E-Ming, still muttering slightly rude things under his breath.
Ruoye follows the pretty god to a different part of the mountain.
“Your master and I trained here a long time ago,” the pretty god tells Ruoye. “I don’t know if you remember. You were just an ordinary scarf then.”
Ruoye flutters and pets the pretty god’s face. The pretty god smiles at Ruoye, and this makes Ruoye happy.
“There really shouldn’t be ghosts, especially now,” the pretty god muses. “This was where Dianxia first ascended. His divinity here has been growing again since his return to the heavens.”
Ruoye pat-pat-pats at the pretty god and listens.
The pretty god sighs. “It’s all changed so much,” he says. “Even the shape of the earth. There used to be a grove of cherry trees here that everyone could pick from. The... proper disciples, at least.”
Behind them, a young boy laughs.
The pretty god lunges away with Zhanmadao already in his hand. Ruoye lashes out faster.
The whip-lash of Ruoye passes through the laughing boy like the laughing boy isn’t there.
Dirty thief, the boy says. His smile is even meaner than the ghost king’s. Are you stealing fruits again?
The pretty god’s face goes whiter than Ruoye’s silk. “You’re not a ghost,” he says. “Zhu-shixiong. You fell in battle, far from this place... and you were no longer a boy when you met your end.”
Still putting on airs, the mean boy says. Do you really think you’re one of us, Qing-er? His Highness only picked you for your pretty face. What will you do when he gets sick of you?
“The soldiers of Yong’an killed you,” the pretty god says. “What are you doing here?”
Like father, like son. It is not the first mean boy who says this. There are many boys standing around the pretty god now, and all of them look mean. Dianxia should find a servant with blood that’s not so tainted.
Such an uppity servant. Standing in front of us like you deserve to be here. One day Feng Xin will lose patience and finally give you a proper beating. Maybe it’ll teach you your place.
He definitely steals from His Highness. Hey, isn’t that treason? They’ll cut his head off with a rusty sword, bam!
“I never stole from Dianxia, shixiong,” the pretty god whispers, not at all like a god.
The boys are all smiling. Their smiles are twisted like strands of snarled threads.
The king ordered your father’s execution, right? Poor little Qing-er, did you cry? It’ll be so funny when His Highness orders yours.
So symmetrical. So poetic.
What, you think His Highness really cares about you? You think you’re his friend? You’re only here until Guoshi finds proof that you’re a dirty little thieving rat.
Guoshi never wanted you here.
Guoshi! Guoshi, His Highness’s servant is disrespecting us again!
Ruoye knows the purple teacher who looms up behind the wicked boys. God likes the purple teacher. God visits the purple teacher under the mountain, and they drink tea together, and play cards, and the purple teacher smiles at God.
The purple teacher is nodding at the wicked boys and looking down his nose at the pretty god. His lip is curled.
The purple teacher is tricksy and false. He never made this cruel face in front of God, because God is important and strong.
“Guoshi,” the pretty god says. He sounds scared, and he sounds young. “Please, Guoshi. I’m not a criminal. I’m not a thief.”
Ruoye lashes around the pretty god and tugs and tugs. The pretty god must run away. But the pretty god is standing like the threads of his feet has been woven into the strands of the earth, and he does not move at all.
The first wicked boy laughs.
Dirty thief, he says. His smile is mean. Are you stealing fruits again?
Their evil words are looping like Ruoye’s coils. Their words will not stop until someone makes them stop.
Ruoye does not want to leave, but Ruoye doesn’t know how to help the pretty god. Ruoye must find the ghost king. The ghost king can help. The ghost king must help.
Ruoye lets goes, and flies away, and it feels like all of Ruoye’s threads are tearing apart.
What if the ghost king doesn’t help?
~
The ghost king is stomping around the part of the mountains where the bones wait, with E-Ming at his hip. Ruoye wraps around him, and ignores his shouting, and twists and flaps and tugs.
“Stupid scarf,” the ghost king snarls, “what now?”
Ruoye tugs more, frantic-strong, and E-Ming shakes so hard that the ghost king’s scabbard clatters. The ghost king’s mouth becomes a thin fierce line. He explodes into a cloud of a sharp silver butterflies that escape Ruoye’s coils and swarm towards the mountain with the wicked boys and the wicked purple teacher and the pretty god.
The butterflies fly very fast but Ruoye is fast too. Ruoye flies with the butterflies all the way back to where the cherry trees once stood, where the wicked boys and the wicked purple teacher are standing around the pretty god.
The pretty god has fallen to his knees. His arms are over his head like the evil words are falling on him like rocks, and he is curled up very small.
He definitely steals from His Highness. Hey, isn’t that treason? They’ll cut his head off with a rusty sword, bam!
The ghost king slams down in the middle of the wicked boys, and chops at them with E-Ming.
The boys keep laughing, and pointing, and saying evil things. The purple teacher stands tall, and nods along, and looks down his nose.
The king ordered your father’s execution, right? Poor little Qing-er, did you cry? It’ll be so funny when His Highness orders yours.
So symmetrical. So poetic.
The ghost king’s face gets whiter and whiter. He bares his teeth at the boys and the purple teacher and keeps chopping at them all with E-Ming, who is also so angry that E-Ming is humming in the ghost king’s hand.
What, you think His Highness really cares about you? You think you’re his friend? You’re only here until Guoshi finds proof that you’re a dirty little thieving rat.
The ghost king spits many very rude words, and sheaths E-Ming, and hurries to the pretty god.
“Xuan Zhen,” the ghost king calls. He drops to one knee in front of the pretty god, and drags the pretty god’s arms down and holds them by the wrists, and shakes him hard. “General Xuan Zhen, listen to me. You’ve been ensnared. You need to break out.”
Guoshi never wanted you here.
“Please, Guoshi,” the pretty god says, very soft and very scared and very far away. “I’m not a criminal. I’m not a thief.”
Guoshi! Guoshi, His Highness’s servant is disrespecting us again!
“Xuan Zhen,” the ghost king says, “they’re not real.”
Ruoye thwaps at the ghost king’s head, because his words are not correct. The ghost king narrows his eyes a little at Ruoye, but then he sits down in the grass in front of the pretty god, and pulls the pretty god into his lap.
“Mu Qing,” the ghost king says, “they’re wrong.”
Dirty thief. Are you stealing fruits again?
The ghost king settles the pretty king against his chest, and holds him close, and rubs at his hands. Ruoye becomes long to loop around them both many times like a blanket.
Some of Ruoye’s loops go around just the pretty god, because the pretty god should always feel special.
“Your hands are freezing,” the ghost king mutters. He guides the pretty god’s head to rest on his shoulder, and kisses the top of his head.
Still putting on airs. Do you really think you’re one of us, Qing-er? His Highness only picked you for your pretty face. What will you do when he gets sick of you?
“Dianxia loves you.” the ghost king says. “I know you don’t believe it yet, Mu Qing, but he’s always cared for you. One day... I hope one day you’ll trust him enough to let him show you.”
Like father, like son. The mean boys are still laughing, but their laughter is growing softer with every word the ghost king speaks. Dianxia should find a servant with blood that’s not so tainted.
“You’re not less than them,” the ghost king says. “You don’t need a place amongst them, General Xuan Zhen. You’ve risen so much higher.”
The boys with the softest voices are starting to fade. The purple teacher still stands over them like a giant, still looking down his nose.
Such an uppity servant...
“Ruoye adores you,” the ghost king says, and Ruoye flutters around them because that is the truth. “My own husband’s spiritual device, and it fought me for your honor, Xuan Zhen.”
The ghost king draws E-Ming whose big eye is spilling with tears. He places E-Ming carefully in the pretty god’s lap, and guides the pretty god’s hand to the hilt.
“Even E-Ming took your side over mine. You’re not unwanted. You’re not nothing. And even if you’re a thief... who cares? So am I.” The ghost king sighs. “Aiya, my own sword. That I made out of my own eye.”
The pretty god clutches at E-Ming, and turns his face into the ghost king’s shoulder, and huddles into the entangled hug of the ghost king and Ruoye. “You should be nicer to E-Ming,” the pretty god says, soft and wet and muffled like his throat has been stuffed with wool.
The ghost king scoffs, but it is only a little bit rude. “Brats, both of you,” the ghost king says. His voice is gentle and he hugs the pretty god tight.
...Standing in front of us like you deserve to be here. One day Feng Xin will lose patience and finally give you a proper beating...
Th pretty god makes a noise like his heart is being torn to shreds.
When Ruoye was ripped into many little pieces, the pretty god stitched Ruoye back together so carefully and cleverly that even Ruoye doesn’t know where the old silk ends and the new silk begins. Now it is the pretty god whose heart has been torn apart, but Ruoye doesn’t know how to stitch a god’s hurts away.
But maybe the ghost king knows how.
“General Nan Yang has been making eyes at you for eight hundred years, Xuan Zhen,” the ghost king says, laughter and despair woven like two colors of thread. “It just mostly looks like glaring because he’s even worse about his emotions than you. At least you’ve manged to confess some of your feelings. However ineptly.”
Only the first mean boy is still here and he is so faded that he is almost gone.
The purple teacher still stands tall, marring the sight of the trees like a bright berry-stain, looking down his nose.
Maybe... It’ll teach you... your place...
“You really should remember your place. You’re a god, Xuan Zhen, and they are not.” The ghost king turns and spits very rudely at the feet of the purple teacher. “You made yourself the Martial God of the Southwest. You earned that place. What has he managed with his immortal life besides clinging to Jun Wu’s sleeve?”
The pretty god laughs a wobbly laugh.
The mean boy fades.
The purple teacher scowls, and sneers, and follows.
“Good riddance,” the ghost king hisses. “The next time Dianxia goes to visit the real version of that obnoxious card-playing prick, I’m going along and we are going to have words.”
“They... they weren’t ghosts?” the pretty god asks. He curls himself smaller against the ghost king, and shakes.
“They weren’t,” the ghost king confirms. “You... you were right.” When he says this, his face gets all tangled up like thread that a cat has played with. “Just echoes. Memories. This place is steeped in suffering, and Dianxia’s re-ascension gave the fragments powers.”
“We can just perform a cleansing, then,” the pretty god says. He sniffles and scrubs at his eyes, and tries to untangle himself and stand, but the ghost king pulls him back down.
“Just a simple cleansing,” the ghost king says firmly, “but it shouldn’t be you. Or me. Dianxia can call in one of his thousand favors after his meeting, it’ll be very straightforward for someone with no history with his place. For now--”
The ghost king’s face gets even more tangled-up.
“We’ve had a bad start with each other,” the ghost king says slowly. He sounds strangled. He sounds almost shy. “I’d like that to change. Let’s stay here in the mortal realms until Dianxia is done. I’ll buy you tangyuan.”
The pretty god is shaking like a sheet in strong winds. “You can’t mean that,” he whispers, but he clings to the ghost king like he wants their threads to be woven together. “Crimson Rain, please, don’t be so cruel. Don’t say such things when you don’t mean them.”
“I mean what I say,” the ghost king says. “You’re precious to those who are precious to me, Mu Qing. I want to understand you better. I want to be your friend.”
The pretty god throws himself at the ghost king and sobs, each breathe wrenching and ripping him apart at the seams. But Ruoye doesn’t have to worry because the ghost king is holding all the torn pieces of the pretty god safely in his arms, and stitching the pretty god’s heart back together again.
“I like savory tangyuan,” the pretty god says at last. “With peanut paste.”
“We’ll get whatever you like,” the ghost king promises, and he holds the pretty god as tightly as Ruoye holds them both.