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He was on the edge of waking. Though his eyes were closed he could sense that it was morning; he felt the sun shining bright and warm through the window and he knew that it was time to start the day. But when Yin Yu opened his eyes he found that he was lying in a dark, silent room. It was clearly the middle of the night; pale moonlight shone through the window still.
With an effort, feeling deeply disoriented, he unfolded himself from the tight ball he’d been curled into and looked around, trying to remember where he was, trying to identify anything in the dim space. For a strange moment, he wasn’t sure if he should be in the dormitory of his sect, his quarters in Paradise Manor, or his palace in the Heavenly Capital. As he tried to order his memories, apply some logic to the situation, his eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness and he was able to make out the form of someone asleep in a chair by the bed.
When he realized that figure was Quan Yizhen, his entire body flinched violently and he let out a shuddering gasp. He tried to remain perfectly still as he stared at him, though his heart and mind were now racing. Had they both gotten safely away from Jun Wu? Somehow that didn’t feel right, though he remembered giving everything he had to try. He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his wrist. Instinctively he clutched at it, but instead of his cursed shackle he touched what felt like an open wound. In his confused state, all he could think was that he was glad he couldn’t see it clearly in the darkness. Feeling himself begin to panic, he decided to try contacting Hua Cheng. But in that moment, Quan Yizhen stirred and blinked awake.
Their wide eyes met almost instantly since the first thing Quan Yizhen did upon waking was look towards the bed and Yin Yu had already been staring at him, stunned like a prey animal, his pulse pounding in his ears.
Quan Yizhen let out a shuddering gasp of his own. “Shixiong,” he breathed, with a mix of wonder and relief, “you’re awake.”
Yin Yu nodded slowly, though he wondered how true that statement was. This still felt like a bad dream. He tried to swallow. “Where are we?” he managed in a whisper.
“My palace,” Quan Yizhen replied, reaching to light the bedside lamp, never taking his eyes off Yin Yu.
Yin Yu shied away from the lamp’s brightness and the way it illuminated Quan Yizhen’s eager face. “Chengzhu and His Highness?” he asked weakly, still trying to put hazy memories back into place and fighting the urge to run.
“Probably in Ghost City right now. I can call them if you’d like, they’ll be so glad to know you’re awake.”
“No, not yet,” Yin Yu said quickly. As long as they were safe, that could wait. He needed to know what was happening first. “Am I bleeding?” he blurted out, unthinking.
“What?!” Quan Yizhen leaned forward, all concern, eyes frantic. “Where?”
Yin Yu held up his arm, allowing his sleeve to fall and reveal his wrist. He kept his gaze fixed firmly away.
“Oh,” Quan Yizhen breathed, sitting back slightly. “No, Shixiong, you’re not bleeding, not really. Crimson Rain explained it to me. That wound’s not real, it’s just part of how you reformed. It… looks bad, but it can’t hurt you.”
Yin Yu felt the shiver run through him. “Reformed?” he whispered, voice strangled. “…You mean as a ghost.”
Quan Yizhen nodded, eyes filled with grief.
He remembered now. I can’t even die without regrets. He let out a sigh, deep and resigned. “Tell me what happened.”
~
It took some prompting and backtracking and many questions from Yin Yu to get the entire story. Quan Yizhen had mostly been concerned with what had happened to his shixiong, but Yin Yu’s unfortunate fate had very little to do with the final fall of the heavenly emperor and his capital. Yin Yu tried not to think about why Quan Yizhen had not been able to witness many of those events firsthand, tried not to keep glancing at the faded burn marks on his face and hands.
Quan Yizhen made up for the gaps in his knowledge of those events by providing an extremely detailed account of the soul-nurturing process and Yin Yu’s slow recovery.
Yin Yu only half-listened, mortified by the amount of care and effort that had been made for his sake. He wasn’t worth it and he had no way of paying them back.
“Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen murmured after a long, uncomfortable silence between them. “If you’d like, I could help you get rid of the wound on your wrist. If it bothers you.” He fidgeted a little in his seat. “Your spiritual power hasn’t recovered enough yet, so I would just need to give you some of mine.”
Yin Yu felt the shudder run up his back. He knew that Quan Yizhen had been giving him a steady stream of spiritual power the entire time he had been dead. But the thought of receiving it now, conscious and aware of it, was too much. Why would Quan Yizhen want to give him his power ever again after what happened? Why didn’t he understand that Yin Yu didn’t want his help, wanted nothing to do with him, didn’t deserve any of this?
“What do you want in return?” he heard himself ask, more for the chance of an argument than out of any real curiosity.
Quan Yizhen shook his head. “I don’t want anything,” he replied softly. “I just want Shixiong to be well.”
Yin Yu turned away, feeling the shame burning his face.
“Shixiong saved my life,” Quan Yizhen went on, voice thick with emotion. “I would never ask you to pay me back for anything.”
“Don’t fool yourself,” Yin Yu whispered, face lowered. “You can’t make arrangements like that with the person who nearly made you take your own life.”
Quan Yizhen had no response to that. When Yin Yu finally dared to glance at him again, he only looked sad and thoughtful. Eventually he mumbled, “I forgave Shixiong for that a long time ago.”
Yin Yu pulled his knees up to his chest, buried his face in his folded arms. “Then you’re stupider than I thought.” The words stung his conscience but he didn’t try to take them back.
The silence between them was heavy. “I hope I can change Shixiong’s mind,” Quan Yizhen murmured, words stilted and hesitant. “…Can I get you anything?”
Face still hidden, Yin Yu shook his head, feeling like a child after a tantrum.
“The sun will be coming up soon,” Quan Yizhen said, rising from his chair. “Crimson Rain said that sunlight can be too much for most ghosts, so Shixiong will probably want to get some more rest.” His voice moved away as he crossed the room. “I’ll check on you later, but I promise not to disturb you.”
Yin Yu didn’t reply. He heard the door close gently.
~
It was worse than he had imagined. Yin Yu had seen plenty of ghosts fairly wither away in the light of day and experiencing it now, he understood the agony. The brightness of the heavens was especially intense, stabbing into his eyes, his skull, his everything. All he could do was curl up under the blanket and try to drift off into something resembling rest.
Though it didn’t feel precisely as though he had slept, he was gently awoken again some time later by the sensation of a clear autumn morning, bright and cool, on the other side of his senses. But when he opened his eyes, it was once again to lamplit darkness. As he slowly sat up he noticed a comforting aroma: a steamer basket filled with hearty dim sum sat on the bedside table along with a pot of strong tea. Both were being kept warm with a talisman. Quan Yizhen was again asleep in the chair nearby, snoring softly.
Yin Yu felt the ache deep in his chest, felt the guilt and shame. He wished this could all just be some kind of joke or bad dream. He gazed at the food for a long time. He wasn’t hungry, was pretty sure he didn’t have to eat anymore, but it did smell good and it had been prepared just for him. It would be wrong to let it go to waste, wouldn’t it?
With a sigh, he helped himself to a few dumplings. The first few bites were difficult to swallow, there was a sudden tightness in his throat, but the tea helped to soothe it. The taste brought to mind vague memories of bright days together that he’d tried to forget. He brushed them away, like fine cobwebs near his blurring eyes.
He felt the need to be up and moving, so he slipped silently from the bed. Taking the teacup and one more piece of dim sum, he padded over to look out the window, noticing with another sharp ache that there were now heavy curtains drawn over it.
He saw a moonlit garden, silent and lonesome. The cold silver light struck the smooth sides of stones and the rough edges of tree bark. Yin Yu let his gaze wander over the peaceful scene, tried to empty his mind of painful thoughts. Then he heard a sharp gasp behind him.
Quan Yizhen had woken to find the bed before him empty. Yin Yu turned slowly and their eyes met. The look on Quan Yizhen’s face as he stared at Yin Yu was odd, a bit wary, as though he were looking at someone who might have been a stranger.
Yin Yu wondered if he looked a little eerie in that moment, a tall ghost standing silently by the window. But the teacup he clutched in both hands probably ruined the effect.
Looking like he wanted to say far too many things, Quan Yizhen eventually settled on asking, “Did you like the tea, Shixiong?”
Trying not to think about his own harsh words and the way they’d parted the night before, Yin Yu softly replied, “I did. It reminds me of—” He nearly said home. “…a long time ago.”
Quan Yizhen peered into the empty teapot. “Can I make you some more?”
Yin Yu’s cheeks flushed. He hadn’t realized he’d finished it. “Not tonight,” he mumbled, feeling foolish. He glanced again at Quan Yizhen to see him watching him still, expression half-anxious, half-eager. He looked almost as lonely as his palace’s garden.
As though weighing his every word, Quan Yizhen took another long moment before speaking. Yin Yu waited, watching him. “I talked to His Highness and Crimson Rain today,” he finally said. “They’d like to see you soon.”
Yin Yu nodded numbly in response. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice. He couldn’t hide from them forever.
“Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen said, sitting up straighter as though steeling himself, “can we talk?”
He shouldn’t have encouraged him by accepting that tea, Yin Yu thought regretfully, feeling the chill crawl up his spine. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he murmured, turning away.
Looking like he very much wanted to argue that point, Quan Yizhen hesitated for a moment before asking, “Will you tell me what it’s been like working for Crimson Rain?”
Yin Yu felt his scalp tingle with dread and displeasure. “Absolutely not,” he stated. “That’s not— that’s not worth discussing.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?!” Yin Yu echoed, voice rising with anger and frustration as he rounded on Quan Yizhen. “Because it’s embarrassing! It’s shameful! Why would I want to talk with you about being shackled, banished, reduced to being the servant of a ghost king, when I used to be a god?!”
“You shouldn’t even want to be a god,” Quan Yizhen said, voice low, clearly upset by Yin Yu’s shouts but unwilling to back away.
“Don’t tell me what I should want,” Yin Yu ground out. He set the teacup down hard on the windowsill, heard it crack. “I wish I could make you understand how much I hate who and what I am, and how much that has to do with you.” His dead heart began to pound. “You don’t understand what it’s like to want something not meant for you, and then to be reminded of that whenever you look at someone who has it. Don’t tell me what I should want.”
Quan Yizhen had been watching him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, Shixiong,” he whispered.
“I don’t want your apologies,” Yin Yu muttered, feeling hollow.
Silence settled between them. Yin Yu’s outburst was causing him to relive feelings and memories he never wanted to face again. It made him want to run, to scream, to break things. There were several convenient targets in the room.
“Maybe I don’t understand how you feel,” Quan Yizhen admitted quietly, and Yin Yu could only shake his head in bitterness, “but I think I know what you mean. Everyone in Ghost City talks about you with so much respect, so much affection. Every time I’m there, someone asks how you’re doing, wishes for your recovery, tells me how grateful they are for you. No one ever talks that way about me and means it. I wish they did.” He clenched his fists in his lap and went on, not noticing the way Yin Yu had stilled. “But you look at your place in the ghost realm and you’re ashamed of it, you don’t even want to talk about it, when you should be so proud of what you’ve become. And maybe it’s not the same but—” He finally looked up to see Yin Yu staring at him. “… Shixiong?”
“All right,” Yin Yu managed, voice rough with emotion, “let’s talk.”
“We’ve been talking,” Quan Yizhen pointed out.
Yin Yu nodded, smiled with an effort. “You’re right, and we should continue.” He came back over to the bed, smoothed the covers and sat down, facing Quan Yizhen. “Maybe you can understand this.”
“I’m not stupid, Shixiong.” His voice and his gaze were soft as he looked at Yin Yu.
“No,” Yin Yu whispered. “I know you’re not.”
~
They talked for hours. Long enough for Yin Yu to learn that he had misunderstood at least as many things about Quan Yizhen as Quan Yizhen had misunderstood about him.
“I didn’t know that you were struggling, Shixiong. I was just trying to do my best for you. I thought that if I ascended we’d become equals, we’d be able to work together, we’d get closer. I know I should have paid more attention, but I wish you had said something. I never wanted to hurt you or make a fool out of you.”
“I know that now. I wish I could have made myself believe it back then.”
They talked long enough for Quan Yizhen to insist on more tea and snacks. He brought in a fresh pot and set it on the table between them. When he handed Yin Yu a filled cup, their fingers brushed.
“I’m sorry for breaking that other cup,” Yin Yu murmured, eyes lowered, all too aware of the way Quan Yizhen’s touch had warmed him instead of filling him with revulsion.
“That’s all right, Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen replied, cheerfully unaware. “I have more.”
“What I really meant,” Yin Yu said pointedly, “was that I’m sorry for losing my temper.”
Quan Yizhen nodded. “Shixiong never used to do that,” he observed.
“Would have been better if I had.”
“When you lose your temper now, can I shout back at you?”
Yin Yu chuckled, grateful for the way Quan Yizhen so easily distracted him from his regrets. “Yes, of course,” he replied. “Please do.”
They talked long enough for the sun to rise, its heavenly light peeking around the edges of the curtains. But Yin Yu was less troubled by it this time. He could feel the stirring of his own spiritual energy, faint but still familiar even after so many years.
Quan Yizhen noticed when Yin Yu glanced at the ugly, open wound that encircled his wrist. “Do you want some bandages?” he asked hesitantly. They both knew Yin Yu wasn’t strong enough yet to change his form even slightly.
Swallowing his pride, Yin Yu nodded.
It was odd to see the strips of cloth cover the wound but not become stained by blood. So much of this body was now a strange illusion, so Yin Yu focused on the reality of Quan Yizhen’s warm, gentle touch as he wrapped the bandage securely around his wrist. He focused on his long eyelashes, his freckled cheeks, his bright eyes suddenly looking back at him. Then they smiled at each other, and that was real too.
~
The next night, rumors spread that Hua Cheng and Xie Lian had arrived in the Heavenly Capital. At first, no one could account for it. The pair were very rarely seen in the heavens these days, for which many officials were secretly grateful. But when it became known that they were there in order to visit the Palace of Qi Ying, the situation became more clear. Yin Yu had either awoken after his long absence, or was facing complications with his revival. Since no one dared to interrupt the visit to learn more, and Quan Yizhen had no servants or deputies to hear anything from, the gossip soon ran out of control. The subjects of said gossip were meanwhile untroubled by it.
They met in the garden under a sea of stars and a brilliant moon. Hua Cheng said little, though his gaze hardly left Yin Yu for a moment. Xie Lian embraced him immediately and couldn’t stop smiling, except when he noticed the bandage on his wrist.
He nodded at it. “Does it bother you?” he asked, voice soft with sympathy.
“It’s hard to look at,” Yin Yu admitted. “But I hope to be strong enough to do something about it soon.”
The proud, approving looks he received from everyone left him feeling both mortified and grateful.
As they sat together, sharing tea and discussing neutral topics for the time being, Quan Yizhen stayed firmly by Yin Yu’s side, attentive to anything he might need. Yin Yu felt a bit like a delicate artwork on display but found the attention comforting all the same. Before he quite realized it, he had inched close enough to Quan Yizhen on the bench they shared that their knees touched.
He was certain Quan Yizhen had noticed when he interrupted the conversation to say, “Shixiong, are you cold?” But before Yin Yu could even reply, he stood. “It’s kind of chilly tonight, I’ll go grab you a cloak.” He ran back inside, taking his warmth with him.
Yin Yu watched him go, then turned back to see that Xie Lian’s permanent smile had grown wider. It filled him with sudden dread.
“And here I was expecting you to be begging us to take you back to Ghost City with us tonight,” Hua Cheng said with a knowing grin. “Looks like I might have to fight for you instead.”
He hadn’t wished for his Waning Moon Officer mask more than in that moment as he felt the blush spread across his cheeks and to his ears. “There’s no need to fight, Chengzhu,” Yin Yu murmured.
Quan Yizhen returned quickly. “Who’s fighting?” he asked excitedly, sitting down to wrap the cloak around Yin Yu’s shoulders.
“No one, hopefully,” Yin Yu replied firmly, trying to regain some semblance of dignity even as he settled into the softness and the familiar scent surrounding him. He reached up like he wanted to adjust the fall of the cloak on his shoulder and touched Quan Yizhen’s hand momentarily.
Hua Cheng lifted an eyebrow at that. Yin Yu tried to ignore it.
“A very wise individual told me that I should be proud of the position I hold in Ghost City,” Yin Yu continued. “And I think they might be right.” He offered a seated bow, sincere and deep with respect. “Chengzhu, Your Highness, I hope there’s still a place for me there.”
Xie Lian’s playful smile glowed with affection. “Of course there is. Though I think you may have to start dividing your time. Don’t worry, I can give you plenty of advice on that.”
Yin Yu turned to Quan Yizhen who was watching him with a mix of admiration and naked longing. That look made his dead heart skip a beat. It seemed he wouldn’t be able to go without sunlight after all.
~
The ease with which Yin Yu fell into this new routine should have been alarming, or at least laughable. After everything that had happened, for things to feel normal, to feel right, that in and of itself almost felt wrong.
“It feels strange, doesn’t it, for things to be easy?” Xie Lian said to him with a crooked smile, as they shared a meal one evening in the ghost market. “People like us don’t get to experience that too often. Take it from me, let it be easy. Enjoy it while you can.” He didn’t voice his wish that it would last; he didn’t want to tempt fate. But Yin Yu saw it in his smiling eyes.
So he let it be easy. His tasks as the Waning Moon Officer had become a normal routine over a century ago; the addition of Quan Yizhen’s presence on some of his patrols through Ghost City almost felt natural, as it had when they were sect siblings, as it had when he was Yin Yu’s deputy official. The difference now was that they saw each other clearly, and that made things even easier.
Though every time Yin Yu touched Quan Yizhen in that not-quite-accidental way, fingers brushing as a scroll was passed from hand to hand, a lingering touch in dark curls after adjusting a mask before going out into the city, he wondered if they were still lacking some clarity. He started to worry that Quan Yizhen wasn’t taking his hints; he never seemed to make efforts to touch him back. Quan Yizhen clearly wanted Yin Yu’s company, but was that all he wanted?
An insistent voice in the back of his mind kept repeating, Tell him, tell him, haven’t you learned your lesson? Tell him!
But the fear remained, that things couldn’t be so easy. That things were sure to go wrong if he pushed it. He told himself that he could enjoy Quan Yizhen’s warmth and brightness from a safe distance. Too much heavenly light wasn’t good for a ghost, after all.
~
“Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen said early one evening as he entered Yin Yu’s study, “do you want to go train with me on a mountain?”
Yin Yu let out a startled laugh, looking up from the plans for a proposed expansion project. “What? Like, gather some supplies and hike off to a secluded place with a waterfall and spend half a month cultivating?” Sharing a fire, sleeping close to each other, his mind unhelpfully provided.
Quan Yizhen nodded. “And we could spar, and bird-watch, and try some new strength training,” his enthusiasm dimmed for a moment, “and even meditate if you want.”
“Is this your way of helping me regain my spiritual powers?” Yin Yu asked, voice soft. He almost reached to cover his bandaged wrist.
“Well,” Quan Yizhen said, hesitant, knowing that Yin Yu’s progress had not been as quick as they’d hoped, “you’d be doing it yourself… but I’d be there with you.”
Yin Yu was still trying to convince himself that that was enough. “I’ll ask Chengzhu if he can spare me,” he said.
Hua Cheng approved the request before it was fully out of Yin Yu’s mouth. Yin Yu tried not to feel like he was an extraneous hire being dismissed in order to reduce payroll costs.
But there was a sincerity to Hua Cheng’s “Have a good time” that most people probably would have missed.
~
The place Quan Yizhen had found was even better than Yin Yu had imagined. They both felt stronger just being there, and the time passed quickly and productively. When they weren’t training, which was most of the time, they found themselves reminiscing about their youth. It felt good to finally look back on those days with fondness instead of bitterness and regret.
Yin Yu kept his distance, though he thought constantly of reaching out, and the only time they touched was when they sparred. Even that contact seemed to turn him inside out, made him wish he knew what it was doing to Quan Yizhen. If they slept close to each other, Yin Yu didn’t know about it; when the sun rose he withdrew into his bedroll, curled up deep within the shelter of the shady trees, or, as the days went on, in a meditative state. And when he awoke in the evening, Quan Yizhen was always busy already with something around their camp.
They lost track of time one night, racing each other up a steep, wooded slope. When they reached the top, a clearing with a broad view of the land all around, the sun was already rising.
Quan Yizhen turned to Yin Yu, panic in his eyes. “Shixiong,” he gasped, reaching for his arm, “quick, let’s head back—”
But Yin Yu, feeling happy and alive, pulled Quan Yizhen close to the precipice instead, where they gazed out together over the sea of clouds, the distant peaks illuminated by the golden sky. Without another thought, he threw an arm around Quan Yizhen; the startled look on his face made Yin Yu smile fondly and pull him closer.
But when Quan Yizhen went still and turned away, Yin Yu felt a coldness creep into his heart. “Yizhen,” he said, voice small and uncertain, “do you—”
Then, like a dam bursting, Quan Yizhen let out a shuddering sob and pulled Yin Yu into a crushing embrace.
Nearly crying with relief, Yin Yu held him tighter, pressing their bodies close. “What the hell were you waiting for?” he whispered, eyes stinging with tears.
“I didn’t want to be too much for you,” Quan Yizhen whispered back, making Yin Yu’s heart clench painfully. “Sometimes you flinch when we touch,” he went on, hiding his face against Yin Yu’s neck. “And lately we haven’t touched at all. I didn’t want to lose you again because I pushed too hard.”
Had it seemed like Yin Yu was pulling away? “Yizhen,” he whispered, threading his fingers into curly hair, gently clutching the back of his neck, “it was only because it wasn’t enough.”
Quan Yizhen loosened his grip to look at Yin Yu in wonder. The light of the new day gilded his stunned face and turned his wide eyes to glowing amber. Yin Yu had to catch his breath at the sight. Without another word, he pulled Quan Yizhen closer and kissed his warm lips, smiling against them when Quan Yizhen pressed forward and eagerly kissed him back.
Let it be easy, Yin Yu told himself once more as he felt the broad light of day, no longer so harsh and painful, surround them both like a loving embrace.
~
He felt the sunlight, bright but gentle, against his face. A fragrant breeze and trilling birdsong came through the open window. Yin Yu took a deep breath then let out a long, contented sigh.
“It’s morning,” he murmured, eyes still closed as he pulled Quan Yizhen closer and wrapped his arms around him.
Quan Yizhen yawned widely then mumbled something, snuggling into the embrace and melting against him, curved back pressed comfortably to Yin Yu’s chest. He was soon snoring softly again.
Yin Yu opened his eyes, squinting momentarily against the glare, then smiled at the unruly mop of hair that filled most of his vision. “Yizhen,” he said, gently smoothing the curls down so he could place a kiss on his cheek, “it’s time to wake up.”
Quan Yizhen shifted slightly, then Yin Yu felt the soft, lingering kiss on the inside of his wrist. A scar wrapped around that wrist, wide and discolored, but healing well. One day it would fade to almost nothing, a reminder of sacrifice but not of pain.
“Are you trying to distract me?” Yin Yu asked with a smile. “Don’t forget that we’re meeting Chengzhu and His Highness for a mission today.”
Another incomprehensible mumble answered him as Quan Yizhen turned and wrapped himself around Yin Yu, a dead weight pressing him into the mattress.
Yin Yu laughed, defeated. He carded his fingers through Quan Yizhen’s hair, admiring the way it caught the light, shining in myriad shades of gold and bronze. “I’ll let you make our excuses when we’re late,” he said, half-threatening.
“They’ll understand,” Quan Yizhen murmured, resting his head on Yin Yu’s chest. “I’ll just tell them my shixiong was too comfortable.”
“As a pillow, you mean?” Yin Yu asked with a dry chuckle.
Quan Yizhen’s eyes opened into smiling crescents, and when Yin Yu squeezed the tip of his nose he laughed.
They took their time starting the day. And as they faced the morning together, Yin Yu found himself realizing that the light of the realm he had hated so much was now changed to something cherished in Quan Yizhen’s eyes.