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The child in the next cell over had been crying since Xie Lian was shoved into a holding pen in the so-called Night Touring Green Lantern's lair. It had been several sichen, filled with leering ghosts poking at him, all of them bearing garish green candles atop their heads. It had felt rude to laugh at their torment while a child was one cell over crying. Xie Lian had practiced patience and repeated sutras in his mind until the ghosts got tired of trying to burn his feet or poke him with sharp nails and sticks through the rough-hewn slatted wall of the cage.
It was somewhat concerning to him, however, that the moment they left, the child's tears went silent.
In his many years wandering, Xie Lian had heard many children cry. Most recently was poor Banyue, who always tried to stifle the sounds, no matter how deeply saddened she was. Even she, the calmest, most-restrained child he had encountered, struggled to stifle herself once she got going. He had learned to offer what distractions he could—sadly more often than not it boiled down to food. If nothing else, he could certainly attest after his time with her that his cooking is distracting.
There was certainly nothing he could cook in his cell, though. He didn't even have his robes and the hard bun he'd been saving—the so-called 'Green Ghost's' minions had stripped him down to his pants. Poor Ruoye was wrapped around his calf to hide from their assailants, and it had been sulking about it the whole time, mournfully twirling itself in listless circles.
It would be very reasonable for the child to cry under these circumstances. According to the ghosts, they were busily bringing a giant cauldron of oil up to temperature to deep fry Xie lian and, presumably, any other captives they happened to have. They hadn't directly addressed the child, aside from telling it to shut up, but it certainly seemed reasonable to think that if the green ghost wanted to eat someone as old and tough as Xie Lian he would be delighted in a more tender offering.
Though he had clearly poor taste, given the gauche eating of humans in general and the ridiculous candles all of his subordinates were wearing on their heads, he seemed to have some standards. After all, the ghosts had been arguing about the correct temperature for the oil to deep fry their captives without making them soggy. Xie Lian was building quite an image of this Night Touring Green Lantern in his head.
It was by chance that he had heard the story of the man eating ghost and come to investigate. Now that he was here, he could only wish he'd been slightly better pepared... He likely couldn't defeat so many ghosts all at once, but he would at least try his best to go in the oil before the child. Maybe he'd be able to spare him a little longer as the Green Lantern's subordinates tried to figure out what to do with a meal that wouldn't die.
Still, it would likely be awkward and frightening for the child. He did wish he had his bun to offer, such things were always easier on a full stomach. But without anything to eat, all he had to offer the youth was his company, and any comfort he could give. That comfort might turn out to be erroneous—perhaps he couldn't save the child, but if the child believed for a time he could be saved, wasn't that better than spending the last hours of his life certain of a painful death?
"Excuse me, little one," Xie Lian said, keeping his voice gentle and kind. "Are you hurt over there?"
For a long moment there was silence from the other cell. For a moment, he worried that the child had simply died of fright, like some rabbits did before the jaws of predators even closed on them.
"Are you talking to me?" the boy on the other side of the wall asked, in a surprisingly affronted tone. "Weren't you the one getting poked and prodded just now?"
"Oh, well, yes," Xie Lian chuckled briefly. "I suppose that's true. I'm quite alright, though. What about you? Do you think you could run, if you needed to?"
"Run?" the child's voice pitched upwards, incredulous. "Does the gege over there have brave, heroic plans of single-handedly defeating the green ghost."
What a sassy youth! Xie Lian thought, eyebrows lifted. Where was the pitifully sniffling child letting out terrified squeaks and soft wails from before, huh?
"Well," Xie Lian hedged, "though perhaps I can't fight off a hoard of ghosts, surely a child could slip away if someone were to cause a distraction.
"And get trampled in the crowd?" sneered the boy with a little scoff. "Is it better to be killed accidentally than with purpose? Gege, you must think I'm a little stupid."
Xie Lian frowned. Wasn't it obviously better to be killed by accident than murdered? Perhaps possibly quite sad or traumatic if a person didn't mean to do the killing, but that sort of selfless viewpoint didn't seem to be what the youth's words pointed towards. In fact, aside from his boyish voice, Xie Lian would have thought he was conversing with a much older man.
"Not at all," he assured swiftly, flapping a hand, eyeing the wall between them with deep consideration, wishing not for the first time that he could see the child. "I'll let you judge for yourself if there's a good opportunity to escape, then. And I'll do my best to keep you safe.
"You don't even know me," laughed the child. "Planning to drag me home after and devour me yourself, gege?"
Xie Lian blanched, mouth dropping open. Then an incredulous laugh pulled its way out of him to match the boy's. This child…!
"Forgive me for so foolishly offering unwelcome assistance, young master!" he chuckled. "Most people I have met prefer a hand to be offered before they're thrown into boiling oil!"
"Oh, this happens to you often, then?" the boy drawled, then clicked his tongue. "How unlucky. And so far gege hasn't offered me his hand at all, only hollow promises."
"Shall I give you my hand then?" Xie Lian extended his palm through the bars, wiggling his fingers in invitation. "It's right here. Very human, right? You can check my palm prints if you like."
"Don't you want to check mine?" the boy sneered, extending a small, dirty hand from his own cell and into Xie Lian's line of sight. "Maybe I'm also a terrible ghost playing on gege's sympathies."
Well, half of that was probably right, if Xie Lian's thoughts were correct. But still, he extended his second hand to catch the boy's fingers in his own, just to still their wiggling for a moment. He did have palm prints, which probably meant he wasn't actually a ghost, despite Xie Lian's creeping suspicions. He also didn't immediately claw at Xie Lian or try to break his fingers, which was slightly surprising, but in a welcome way.
"Here," Xie Lian said, swiftly tying a lock of his hair around the boy's finger. "It's not much, but—"
"What are you doing!?" the boy yelled, jerking his hand back swiftly, as though he'd been burned. "What did you just do?"
"It's only a little spell," Xie Lian objected. "Sometimes things like this can ward evil off for—"
"What gives you the right!?" screamed his neighbor, a loud impact suddenly shuddering the wall beside Xie Lian's ear. "Who said you could—why would you—!?"
The green glow returning down the hallway cut off the boy's rant. In the blink of an eye his fury evaporated into silence, and Xie Lian heard a thump and rustle of fabric as though he'd thrown himself to the floor. An immediate wail of terror dragged up out of him, voice thin and frail once more.
Xie Lian almost ruined his hard work by laughing at him again, but swiftly lifted his fist to his mouth to cover his smile and gave a couple coughs.
"If you don't stop complaining I'm going to deepfry you first to test the temperature!" the ghost of a criminal was screeching, his green candle adorning the stump of his neck while he carried his head along under his arm. "Honestly, the boss finally comes to visit and you're acting like it's an inconvenience instead of an opportunity! Didn't you see what he did to set up that Xuan Ji for life!? Her grudge is going to be fulfilled in no time!"
The cringing hyena spirit at the criminal's side whimpered, whined, cackled, then beelined towards the cowering boy's cell.
"Excuse me," Xie Lian called. "I really think you should consider frying me first."
"What? What?" the criminal ghost scrunched his brows, lifting his head higher to peer at Xie Lian and tilting it in his hands to mimic tilting his head. "What's this? What sort of person asks to be fried first?"
"Well," Xie Lian spread his hands sagely. "It's cold in this cell without my robes. Such suffering surely should be cut short. May as well get it over with, don't you think? After all, wasn't the worst part of losing your head the anticipation?"
"No, it was the drunk executioner doing a shitty job and leaving me lopsided!" wailed the executed ghost. "The fucker! He could at least have taken good care of his sword! Now for all my afterlife I'll be ridiculed! That's why, using the green ghost's power, I'll—"
"DON'T EAT ME, I DON'T WANT TO BE EATEN!" wailed the little boy at top volume, the hyena spirit having ignored the whole discussion to unlock the door and pick the child up by the scruff of his robes..
"Wait," Xie Lian called, glancing between the dangling boy and the hyena. It was his first look at the child, and the ratty robes, the dark tangle of hair, the bandages wrapped around his face, all made something inside him ache. "Wait, I promise he won't be as tasty as I will be! I won't even fight you, it will be so easy to fry me up! Many ghosts think the flesh of a daoist is the most delicious!"
"What, like it's going to be hard to fry up a fucking child?" scoffed the criminal, turning his head to spit. "The oil needs longer to fry something so big, it's just right for little morsels! Sit there and get nice and cold—according to those scrolls it should keep your skin from burning too quickly while we cook you through!"
"Gege, please!" Wailed the child, and despite his doubts, Xie Lian's heart clenched in his chest.
"Ruoye," he hissed as the spirits started wandering off again, painting the tunnel walls green with the garish lights of their allegiance.
With a thrilled lash, his silk band whipped free. It curled for a moment, like a snake measuring the strike, then snapped forward, cutting through stone as though it were water. The bars fell in pieces and Xie Lian deftly caught their fragments—once again his busking days of juggling plates came back to serve him well.
But just as he squeezed through the gap, there came a tremendous splashing sound from down the hall, a shrill scream, cut short, and then dark, wild, building laughter.
Too late, screamed Xie Lian's heart as he sprinted through the dark. Too late again, too little again, worthless, you've doomed him with the touch of your hair, infected him with your bad luck, you've let another person die while screaming for your help.
But even though he was too little and too late, Xie Lian ran, as if fishing the boy out blistered and burned to die more slowly would be a kindness. He readied Ruoye, already knowing it would do no good, breaking into the oil-scented room—
And freezing in his tracks.
The room was in shambles, Ghosts were cowering on the floor, their green lights extinguished. Some were outright dissipating in the weight of ghost qi drowning the room. The cauldron of oil had spilled, washing across the floor, revealing bones and scraps but no burned and dying boy.
Standing on the throne above the disaster was no green ghost, but a red-clad demon of a man. It was him the vicious laughter was spilling from—him pressing the ghosts into the floor with his ghostly qi. The hyena demon was cowering under his feet, clearly actually one of his minions, his candle abandoned and his corporeal form safe within the hollow of his master's deathly aura.
"Running away again!?" the boy—because it was certainly the boy, his cold tone and sarcastic phrasing. "And you dare call yourself a calamity on my level, Green Lantern?"
He was still laughing through his words. He spread his hands, and the sky opened up, as though he had summoned a thunderstorm under miles of stone. The pouring, drenching water was thick and heavy, though, and Xie Lian blinked down at the red splotches on his hand as Ruoye swiftly ducked back into his trousers for cover.
"Huh!" A blood rain, Xie Lian thought, quirking a brow. What a fun twist, to make a cleansing shower that rather than cleansing, dirties the land in the way of your choosing.
The laughter choked off. Xie Lian lifted his gaze and found the red-clad ghost's eye—a singular eye, the other covered in a dark patch—fixed upon him, so wide and round and shiny he almost did look like a child. Xie Lian lifted a hand to him, dripping red, and gave a sheepish smile.
"I see the "young master" had this in hand all along," he said, unflinching at the metal taste of blood on his tongue. "Forgive this stranger his foolish—"
Before he could finish his sentence, the ghost moved. Though it was fast as a blink and seemed quite aggressive on the sheer motion, Xie Lian didn't waver an inch. He felt no killing intent whatsoever, and so decided to stay put and wait to see what the ghost would do.
No part of him expected the umbrella suddenly extended above him.
"Daozhang," the ghost said, sounding like he was fighting his own tongue to choke out the word. "Are you hurt?"
Xie Lian blinked up at him. The ghost's features had completely lost their wild, wicked glee, falling ashen. Though Xie Lian was now covered from the blood rain, the ghost had stopped guarding himself, and was quickly soaking through. The whimpering hyena spirit was trying to crawl under what must have been the green lantern's throne to escape the downpour.
"Hurt?" Xie Lian echoed, blinking. "No no, it's just the blood rain—"
"Here," whispered the demon, ghosting a fingertip towards Xie Lian's side. When Xie Lian looked, he did indeed find a wound there. Ah, yes, the green ghost's lackeys poking at him and taunting him through the cell had briefly brought along that spear…
"It doesn't hurt," Xie Lian chuckled. "More importantly is the young master alright? You called so pitifully for assistance!"
It was probably unwise to tease such a creature as was before him, but at his teasing the ghost didn't rear back or snarl at him. Instead he seemed to sink into himself, dropping his shockingly emotional dark eye to the floor. Around him, into the blood rain, a dozen silver lights appeared. Xie Lian blinked, then laughed in pleasure at the realization that they were butterflies. He quickly placed a hand on the umbrella himself, pushing it to better shelter the delicate creatures from the heavy drops of blood.
"Are these a spiritual device?" he asked, beaming as they clustered by his hand under the umbrella. "How lovely! Hello, hello little ones."
Around them, the few non-dispersed ghosts whimpered louder and tried to struggle away.
The butterflies flicked and fluttered under his praise, then swarmed towards him, clustering around his bruised torso, tickling at him with their tiny feet and flapping their shining wings. Xie Lian strangled a squeal, lifting both his hands to ensure he didn't hurt the silver helpers.
"You like them?" the ghost asked in a mumble so quiet Xie Lian almost didn't hear him.
"Of course!" The ticklish feeling of their attention intensified briefly, then as one they lifted off, dotting the underside of the umbrella like little lights. In their wake, they left unblemished skin, so smooth it was as if it had never been hurt. With surprise, Xie Lian realized that even the blood rain had been cleaned off him!
The red-clad spirit before him drew in a breath, and seemed to draw some strength with it, lifting his head once more. "Daozhang, forgive me for being careless with you," he said, his liquid, lively eye returning to Xie Lian's face, though he couldn't seem to make eye contact.
"What's to forgive, young master?" Xie Lian chuckled, prodding at his healed skin. "Instead, shouldn't I be thanking you for your assistance? I truly would have struggled to clear out a den of ghosts such as this."
"No, you could have done it," the ghost insisted. "I should have been more courteous to you. Thank you, master cultivator, for coming to this foolish one's rescue."
What rescue? Xie Lian wanted to ask, but the ghost seemed so earnest in his thanks that instead Xie Lian patted him on the shoulder a few times.
"No need for thanks, and certainly no need to call me any titles! I'm just a humble scrap collector, young master."
"Then gege must not call me young master either," the ghost insisted. "I—I'm the third in my family so—" he stumbled over his words, as if eagerly producing some speech he had practiced over and over only to flub the delivery. He dragged a hand down his face, leaving a trail of blood over his nose that a butterfly helpfully flew down to clean.
"I'm San Lang," he said at last.
No you're not, Xie Lian almost laughed. The idea of the ghost who had just torn apart the cannibalistic Night Touring Green Lantern's lair in a heartbeat, sending the ghost fleeing in terror, leaving the minions who Xie Lian truly would have struggled to overpower crawling on the floor like worms before him, being called San Lang was patently ridiculous.
But then, many people thought Xie Lian was ridiculous too.
"San Lang," he greeted. "My family name is Xie and my given name is Lian. I'm very fortunate to have met you here."
"It's me who was fortunate. Gege, I am so, so happy you were here." San Lang breathed, and the sincerity radiating from those words almost took Xie Lian's breath away.
"Because I was so instrumental in saving poor helpless San Lang from being devoured by the terrible green ghost?" he teased, rather than daring to face that sincerity.
"En," San Lang said. "I'd surely have been devoured. Would gege like to see a better ghostly lair than this? I was so rude to you, I must treat you to a meal at my manor. And, perhaps, some robes?"
His voice cracked a little on the suggestion, and Xie Lian almost laughed at him. Imagine, being embarrassed by so simple a state of undress! Xie Lian had been in far worse situations with far less respectable clothing. Still, he hadn't made his way in the world these past seven hundred years by turning down the kindness of strangers! Maybe he should have been suspicious of this sassy liar of a ghost.
He took San Lang's offered hand and let the ghost guide him through a spelled doorway into a lavish manor. Wrapped snuggly around San Lang's finger, just where Xie Lian had tied it, was the strand of his hair. It looked right there—at home.
Perhaps, Xie Lian mused, both of them really had experienced a stroke of luck down there in the dark.
(And that, of course, was how the ghost king Hua Cheng won his title: Crimson Rain Steals Dinner.)