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It’s only when Feng Xin and Mu Qing arrive that his already tenuous control truly begins to slip.

Xie Lian has spent the last hour sitting quietly on the edge of their bed, a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes plastered on his face. Every word he has spoken to Hua Cheng, Yin Yu, and the physician has been nothing but calm. Serene, even.

But when the two heavenly officials step into their bedroom, relief lights up his eyes like a lantern. Hua Cheng feels the muscles in his shoulders tighten further even as the almost imperceptible tension around Xie Lian’s eyes begins to relax.

“Mu Qing, Feng Xin,” he breathes out. “Thank you for coming.”

Mu Qing scoffs immediately. Feng Xin elbows him and hesitantly approaches the bed where Xie Lian sits, a frown twisting his lips. Hua Cheng feels E-ming start to vibrate at his side and places a steadying hand on the saber’s hilt.

“Your Highness,” Feng Xin says carefully, “what do you…how much do you remember?”

“Clearly, he remembers enough,” Mu Qing snaps. He waves an emphatic hand. “He’s happy to see us, isn’t he?”

“Ah, it’s really alright, I remember most things,” Xie Lian says, placating. “I just don’t…”

His eyes skitter nervously towards Hua Cheng and then away again; the tension in Hua Cheng’s shoulders, in his entire body, stretches closer to snapping. It feels like every muscle is straining under the weight of this, like every cell in his body is rebelling against this…this horror.

Still, he manages to say what Xie Lian apparently cannot: “He just doesn’t remember me.”

***

When Hua Cheng woke up that morning, he immediately knew that something was very, very wrong.

For the first time in over a year, Xie Lian was not plastered against his side, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. Instead, he had apparently scooted to the very edge of the mattress sometime after waking, his entire body tilted away from Hua Cheng.

“Gege?” Hua Cheng asked, reaching a hand across the mattress.

Xie Lian’s eyes widened at that, and a slightly panicked laugh escaped him. Hua Cheng paused halfway through reaching for his husband. He didn’t know what was going on, but there was a sharp little something in his gut telling him that touching Xie Lian would do more harm than good right now.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Xie Lian said. “It’s just that, well, I don’t quite remember—that is, would you mind telling me how I got here? And where here is, for that matter?”

Hua Cheng reared back, then, too shocked to do anything but stare at Xie Lian. His husband stared back with a calmness Hua Cheng knew was born from over eight centuries worth of experience dealing with unnerving situations.

“You don’t remember…” he said faintly.

He must still be asleep, he decided. This had to be a nightmare, one of those terrible dreams where his beloved god never came back into his life, where Hua Cheng never got the chance to truly know Xie Lian, where Xie Lian never fell in love with him. It had been a while since he last had one, his heart and head too full of Xie Lian’s love and heartfelt praise to leave any room for his silly little insecurities. He should have known, though, that the dreams would return eventually.

Except...

Except, Hua Cheng felt the smoothness of the silk sheets against his skin in a way that was far too tangible for it to be part of a dream. He could smell the sweet scent of Xie Lian’s preferred peach-blossom soap from across the bed, the faint tang of sweat lingered just beneath it.

“Does…” Hua Cheng hesitated briefly, uncertain of whether he really wanted to hear the answer, but then swallowed down the fear and forced himself to continue. Regardless of want, he knew he needed to hear the answer. “Does gege remember this one?”

Xie Lian worried his lip between his teeth, then smiled politely. He sat up, folding his legs beneath him and resting his hands on knees while he bowed his head.

“I’m sorry, should I? Do we know one another?” he asked, voice filled with remorse, and Hua Cheng felt something essential crack in his chest.

***

Hua Cheng ordered Yin Yu to call the doctor not long after, and then he shoved his way into Feng Xin’s communication array to demand that he bring himself and Mu Qing to Paradise Manor immediately. Feng Xin, unsurprisingly, panicked at that and demanded to know what had happened to Xie Lian. Hua Cheng offered a vague explanation about Xie Lian losing his memories and then refused to respond to any of the subsequent questions the heavenly official threw at him.

The greater their curiosity, the quicker they would drag themselves to Ghost City. That was all. His lack of elaboration had nothing whatsoever to do with his reluctance to speak the horrible truth of this bleak, nightmarish reality he found himself in.

Now, the four of them are alone in the bedroom, the doctor and Yin Yu having made their escape after the doctor declared that there was nothing physically wrong with Xie Lian.

“But how can it be so targeted?” Feng Xin questions. His eyebrows are still drawn together in a frown, his fingers tapping a worried beat against his thigh. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Mu Qing rolls his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? This isn’t an attack against Xie Lian, this is someone coming after Crimson Rain.”

Inside his mind, Hua Cheng agrees. He won’t give Mu Qing the satisfaction of voicing his agreement, of course, but it is the only reasonable answer.

After all, if someone wanted to hurt Hua Cheng, what better way to do so than to take away the only thing in the world that he cares about? Especially when Xie Lian, for all that he is so much more powerful than his unassuming appearance suggests, is a much easier target than the formidable Crimson Rain Sought Flower, the infamous Scourge of the Heavens.

So, yes. Mu Qing is right. This is an attack on Hua Cheng. This is Hua Cheng’s fault.

“Your Highness,” Feng Xin says, interrupting his thoughts, “what about…”

He trails off and glances nervously at Hua Cheng, who merely arches an eyebrow. He doesn’t have the energy for anything more threatening, and there also isn’t anything he would truly stop Feng Xin from asking, no matter how uncomfortable it might make him. Not if it means learning more about Xie Lian’s condition. Not if it means learning more about how to fix Xie Lian’s condition.

“What about Hong Hong-er?” Feng Xin finally asks. “Do you remember Hong Hong-er, Your Highness?”

Xie Lian frowns and shakes his head. The crack in Hua Cheng’s chest widens into a chasm.

“Fuck,” Feng Xin says miserably.

“And Wu Ming?” Hua Cheng asks, even though he knows it’s pointless. If Xie Lian doesn’t remember him as Hua Cheng, if he doesn’t remember him as Hong-er, of course he won’t remember when he was Wu Ming. “Do you remember him?”

“Wu Ming,” Xie Lian repeats, and he looks aghast.

Hua Cheng knows he is reacting to the cruelty of name, the mockery in its characters, and he wants to scream or maybe sob. He wants to be anywhere but here, and he wants to hold Xie Lian against his chest, and he wants to rip the room to shreds.

He wants to go back sleep. He wants to never have woken up.

“It’s not just his recent memories, then,” Feng Xin states as though they don’t all already realize that. Hua Cheng smothers the urge to shoot an icy glare in his direction.

Normally, Xie Lian laughs indulgently at the way Hua Cheng treats his friends, like Hua Cheng is a feral but overall harmless cat that he has taken a liking to. But this Xie Lian does not remember Hua Cheng. He only knows Mu Qing and Feng Xin, and Hua Cheng cannot imagine that he would take kindly to someone acting so openly hostile towards them.

And as much as Hua Cheng wants to rip the two heavenly officials to shreds—partly because he always wants to tear them apart and partly because he can admit that there is a searing jealousy in his chest at how Xie Lian remembers them but has forgotten him, as nonsensical as that may be—he cannot risk it. He cannot risk anything that might make Xie Lian afraid of him, that might make Xie Lian decide he wants nothing to do with him.

On the bed, the god in question sighs and sits up a bit straighter. He looks at Feng Xin imploringly and says, “I’m sorry, but would someone mind explaining exactly what is happening? Clearly, there is…something wrong with me.”

He risks a glance at Hua Cheng, then, and adds, “I…I should remember you, shouldn’t I? I should know you?”

“The fact that you woke up in his bed didn’t give that away?” Mu Qing mocks.

Xie Lian’s cheeks flush pink at that, and his eyes dart away from Hua Cheng. Instinct and muscle memory overtake Hua Cheng, and he finds himself leaning into Mu Qing’s space and snarling down at him before he even registers moving.

“Fuck off,” he hisses. “Don’t you dare talk to Dianxia like that, you worthless piece of—”

“Maybe we should—” Feng Xin tries, but he is almost immediately interrupted by Mu Qing, who apparently has a death wish.

“No, you fuck off,” he growls. “This is all your fault, anyway! Clearly, someone is trying to get to you by hurting His Highness! If it wasn’t for you and your—your evilness, always causing trouble and attracting enemies, this would never have happened!”

Hua Cheng simply cannot deal with these imbeciles.

“At least I would never leave him just because things get a little difficult,” he says. It’s cruel, yes, but Mu Qing is the kind of spineless, cowardly bastard who deserves cruelty. “Even if he doesn’t remember me, I won’t abandon him.”

Mu Qing’s answering snarl is just as vicious as Hua Cheng’s words. “And who says he wants you to stay? He doesn’t fucking remember you; he doesn’t remember whatever it is you did to brainwash him into thinking you are anything other than a monster, so what makes you think he’ll want to stay here?”

In the background, Hua Cheng can hear Xie Lian and Feng Xin desperately trying to stop them—Feng Xin because he is less of an idiot than Mu Qing and likely knows that their fighting won’t get them anywhere productive, and Xie Lian because even if he doesn’t remember Hua Cheng, he has always detested cruelty, even when it is coming from his best friend.

But their voices and their attempts at placation are almost inaudible in the background—Hua Cheng can barely hear them over the roar of his fury, over the swelling wave of his grief and his utter terror.

Because Mu Qing isn’t wrong. He is being an asshole, yes, and his words are carefully aimed arrows meant to hit exactly where he knows they will hurt Hua Cheng the most. But his words, for all that they are weapons, are also true.

Hua Cheng wishes with all his might that they weren’t, but they are.

He is Hua Cheng, Crimson Rain Sought Flower, the Fourth Ghost King, Hua Chengzhu of Ghost City. He is dangerous and powerful; he has made himself dangerous and powerful in the name of one day protecting Xie Lian the way he was once so disgustingly incapable of doing.

But Xie Lian does not know any of that. He does not know that all of Hua Cheng’s power, all of his danger and his violence, is for him and his safety. He does not know that everything Hua Cheng has ever done, every terrible and great thing, has been in his name, to punish those who wronged him or to provide him with some insufficient show of devotion.

All he knows, all that anyone else will tell him, is that Hua Cheng is a Supreme Ghost. That he is dangerous, and that he has done many horrific things. Yes, there are those who will certainly tell him that despite all of this, he loves Hua Cheng—he knows that Shi Qingxuan will, and he thinks that Feng Xin might. Ling Wen, too, maybe.

But none of them will be able to tell Xie Lian why he loves Hua Cheng. None of them will be able to explain it. Even Hua Cheng can’t explain it; he can’t make it make sense, because it doesn’t make sense.

Xie Lian, by all rights, should not love him. Hua Cheng is undeserving of his love, always has been and always will be.

It was mere good fortune that led Xie Lian to fall in love with him against reason once, and Hua Cheng doubts that it will happen again.

His breath seizes in his chest at that thought.

It won’t happen again. It won’t happen again, will it? Xie Lian isn’t going to fall back in love with him because he shouldn’t have fallen in love with him the first time around. Hua Cheng actually has even less of a chance now than he did before, because Xie Lian doesn’t even remember him as Hong-er or as Wu Ming. He doesn’t remember Hua Cheng’s age-old devotion, doesn’t remember the things they have been through together, doesn’t remember doesn’t remember doesn’t remember—

“Hua Cheng!”

His eyes find Xie Lian’s stricken face mere inches away from his own, and Hua Cheng immediately calms as he gazes into those soft brown eyes. There is no need to be upset, not when Xie Lian is with him.

“Hua Cheng,” Xie Lian repeats, and Hua Cheng savors the way his lips move around the shape of his name. He knows he needs to relish in it now in case this is one of the last times he hears those syllables pass his god’s lips. “Hua Cheng.”

“Gege,” Hua Cheng chokes out. “This San Lang is sorry if he frightened you.”

Xie Lian shakes his head. “Ah, that’s no matter. Are you…are you alright?”

Hua Cheng nods wordlessly. “Of course, I’m fine. There’s no need for gege to worry.”

There is a doubtful look in Xie Lian’s eyes, but he nods and steps away from Hua Cheng all the same. Hua Cheng feels bereft at the loss of his nearness. His Xie Lian, the Xie Lian that loves him, would never have let him get away with that lie so easily. As often as Hua Cheng has wished in the past that his god would worry less about him, he suddenly finds himself longing for Xie Lian’s gentle insistence that Hua Cheng tell him what is wrong.

“Perhaps…perhaps we should allow His Highness to rest for a while,” Feng Xin says, breaking the tense silence that has settled over them. “Tomorrow, we can try to figure this out, but I’m sure His Highness is exhausted from everything that has happened today.”

Hua Cheng nods mindlessly. Feng Xin is right; Xie Lian woke up in a strange bed with a strange man, was informed that he is missing a significant portion of his memories, and then had to play peacemaker between said strange man and his best friends. That’s not to mention the strain that was surely put on his mind by whatever curse or nasty ritual it was that stole his memories in the first place. Some rest will do him good.

“Yes,” Hua Cheng agrees. He straightens his shoulders and begins to herd Mu Qing and Feng Xin toward the door, looking over his shoulder to address Xie Lian as they leave. “Please call for me or Yin Yu if you need anything, gege. Whatever you want, I’ll make sure—”

Hua Cheng cuts himself off to glare down at the hand that has gripped his wrist. He follows the hand up the connecting arm and shoulder to Feng Xin’s face. He rests his glare there, waiting in silent fury for the bastard to tell him what insanity has led him to think he can lay his hands on Hua Cheng without being fucking beheaded.

Feng Xin, in his defense, has a sour expression on his face. He is white as a sheet, and Hua Cheng feels a sliver of satisfaction that for all his boldness, he is still clearly very terrified of what Hua Cheng can—and will—do to him.

“I think it would be in His Highness’ best interest if he were able to rest where he would be most comfortable,” Feng Xin murmurs.

Hua Cheng stares, uncomprehending.

Feng Xin winces and retracts his hand from Hua Cheng’s arm. His eyes, though, are steely as he meets Hua Cheng’s stare.

“That is… It might be better if His Highness returned to the Heavenly Capital with us instead of remaining here.”

There isn’t a single object in the room that is left untouched by the rage that explodes from Hua Cheng.

The wood of the furniture splinters, bits of wood spraying into the air and raining down to the ground. Clothes fly out of the wardrobe, a particularly colorful and heavily embroidered set of robes that Hua Cheng bought for Xie Lian smacking Mu Qing in the face and sending him bowling over. Hundreds of butterflies swarm through the room, knocking over vases and books, tearing the curtains to shreds.

Not even Hua Cheng is unaffected. His butterflies flock to him, E-ming swings wildly, and the very air around him begins to shimmer with the force of his emotions.

Only Xie Lian is untouched, a bubble of calm surrounding him, the peaceful center of the storm that is Hua Cheng’s anger.

“You think you can take him from me?” he snarls.

He unsheathes E-ming, his scimitar’s red eye wild and unblinking, a mirror image of the feeling currently wrecking Hua Cheng’s chest and his room in equal measure.

“You think you can take advantage of Dianxia’s condition to steal him away from here?” he continues. “From the place where he will be the most protected, where he will be the most comfortable? You dare have the audacity, you insipid little worm?”

“Hua Cheng!” Mu Qing bellows.

“I’ll kill you both,” Hua Cheng promises, and he swings E-ming.

The only thing that stops him from following through is Ruoye wrapping around his wrist and yanking his hand back before he can complete his swing at Feng Xin’s neck. Hua Cheng’s entire body jerks backward with the force of Ruoye’s pull, and he stumbles as the chaos in the room finally settles down.

Looking up, he meets Xie Lian’s gaze. He finds a wariness there that has him collapsing to his knees, E-ming falling from his grasp to clatter on the floor.

“Gege,” he gasps. “Dianxia.”

Xie Lian swallows and looks away. Ruoye slithers off of from Hua Cheng’s wrist and darts back to her master, winding herself around one of his forearms as per usual.

“Clearly, there is more that I am missing here than simple memories,” he says. “I don’t know why you all hate each other so much, but I don’t…I don’t think continuing to argue is going to get us anywhere.”

He doesn’t look at Hua Cheng as he says this, keeps his gaze locked determinedly on the floor.

He won’t look at Hua Cheng.

He won’t look at him.

Oblivious to the internal apocalypse tearing its way through Hua Cheng’s heart, Xie Lian inhales deeply and raises his eyes to glance at Feng Xin. Hua Cheng is too far gone in his panicked despair to recognize that this is fair, that Feng Xin is the only one who has acted even remotely reasonable today.

All Hua Cheng can see is his own dismissal. All he can see is his beloved, his god, lofty and too good and beyond the reach of his filthy, undeserving hands.

“I think it would be for the best if I went with Feng Xin and Mu Qing for now,” he says gently, and he finally turns his gaze on Hua Cheng.

Hua Cheng should be thankful for it, but all he can see is that wariness. It burns through him and leaves him empty, entirely devoid of anything but desolation.

“We can come back tomorrow, maybe, and try to figure this out, but for now…”

Xie Lian’s voice trails away to nothing. He isn’t looking at Hua Cheng anymore, and Hua Cheng doesn’t know whether that’s better or worse.

After an awkward moment where he lingers in front of Hua Cheng, Xie Lian sighs and begins to walk toward the door, Mu Qing and Feng Xin falling into step behind him like they always do.

“Dianxia,” Hua Cheng calls out. “Please…”

He swallows down the fear and the heartbreak and the desolation. He can deal with that later, can allow himself to break down and rage in the privacy of his own home when it is once again empty and cold without Xie Lian’s presence. Right now…

“Please, allow this one to send something with you for your protection.”

Hua Cheng flicks a finger, and one of his butterflies lazily flaps its way over to perch on Xie Lian’s shoulder.

“Just the one,” he whispers. “So that I can…so I can be sure you are safe.”

Its wings flutter gently as Xie Lian looks down at it curiously. Something warms in Hua Cheng’s heart when he sees that that awful wariness is no longer present.

If not Hua Cheng himself, at least Xie Lian can still appreciate his creations.

“Alright,” Xie Lian says quietly. He reaches up a finger and brushes it gently against the butterfly’s wing. “That’s… Thank you, Hua Cheng.”

And then he is gone.

Hua Cheng holds on for one second, two seconds, and then—

And then the walls of Paradise Manor shake with the force of the wail that resonates through the halls.

***

The sharp tang of ginger and chili oil precedes He Xuan’s presence; Hua Cheng seriously debates fleeing the room so that he doesn’t have to deal with the other Supreme Ghost, but then he catches the look Yin Yu is giving him and he sinks back into his chair.

“What?” he snaps.

“Black Water would not visit without a reason,” his assistant reminds him.

Hua Cheng rolls his eyes. “He Xuan just wants to satisfy his ridiculous appetite with my food.”

Yin Yu, thankfully, doesn’t have time to offer a response before the leech himself is slinking into Hua Cheng’s office, a bowl of something in hand and the usual perpetual scowl on his face.

“Black Water,” Hua Cheng greets mockingly. “What do you want?”

He Xuan, forever disrespectful of Hua Cheng’s time, grabs a piece of some sort of finely sliced meat from his bowl and slowly brings it to his lips.

“He Xuan,” Hua Cheng growls, and the other ghost rolls his eyes.

“I have news,” He Xuan drawls. “From the Heavenly Capital.”

He does not elaborate; Hua Cheng wants very much to bash his stupid, depressed face in.

“And?” he prompts.

“A Heavenly Official ascended,” He Xuan continues, then takes another bite.

Hua Cheng flexes his hand at his sides and ignores the warning glare Yin Yu directs his way. “You know I don’t give a shit about another new, useless god ascending, so why the fuck are you—”

“Again,” He Xuan interrupts.

Hua Cheng freezes. Off to the side of the room, Yin Yu freezes, too. Only He Xuan is undisturbed, continuing to lazily eat his meal as though nothing is wrong.

“A Heavenly Official ascended…again,” Hua Cheng repeats faintly.

He Xuan sighs and waves his chopsticks through the air. “Yes. Your precious Xian Le prince ascended for a third time earlier today.”

At his side, E-ming begins to vibrate, a manifestation of the joy and excitement rushing through Hua Cheng’s veins that he cannot hide.

“You’re certain?” he asks.

“Very,” He Xuan assures him. His expression turns sour, lips pursing as though his food has suddenly gone bad mid-bite. “The Wind Master would not shut up about how His Highness has thrown the entirety of Heaven into a frenzy.”

For once, Hua Cheng does not bother poking at He Xuan’s inability to go more than five minutes without mentioning his precious Wind Master. He has more important things to worry about, after all, and no time to waste on He Xuan’s absurd revenge plots.

“Yin Yu,” he says, turning towards his assistant without really knowing what to ask of him. “You need to—”

“I will ensure that the Manor and Ghost City are fully prepared for visitation,” Yin Yu promises.

Hua Cheng nods his thanks, and then turns back to He Xuan.

“You will return to the Heavenly Capital immediately and will inform me the moment His Highness leaves the Heavens.”

“Oh, he’s already left,” He Xuan informs him.

Hua Cheng snarls. “He’s what?”

“There is a ghost causing trouble in the north that he’s gone to deal with,” Black Water says, seemingly oblivious to the killing intent radiating off Hua Cheng.

“Where in the north?” he demands.

He cannot believe He Xuan did not come to him sooner; the only reason Hua Cheng ever deigned to deal with the man was so that he could have an a pair of eyes and ears in the Heavenly Capital should something like this ever occur. And He Xuan has the audacity to stop for food on his way!?

“Yu Jun Mountain,” He Xuan supplies. “Near—”

But Hua Cheng is already gone.

***

They do not return the next day. But then, Hua Cheng never really expected them to, so while he is miserable, he is not surprised.

Feng Xin, at least, has the decency to reach out through the spiritual communication array to tell him that Xie Lian slept for sixteen hours straight after they brought him back to Feng Xin’s palace. He tells Hua Cheng that they want to let him rest for a bit longer before they bring him = to Ghost City to speak with Hua Cheng.

Mostly, Hua Cheng just wants whatever is best for Xie Lian. If he is exhausted, then he should rest. Even if Feng Xin is lying to avoid insulting Hua Cheng and the real reason they haven’t brought Xie Lian back is because being in Ghost City—because being around Hua Cheng—would make him afraid, Hua Cheng understands. Xie Lian should never have to be afraid, and if Hua Cheng makes him afraid now, then Hua Cheng does not deserve to see him.

But there is a lingering panic that has clung to his mind ever since Xie Lian looked at him with a polite smile and asked him where he was. It makes him itch to storm the Heavenly Capital, to fight his way to Xie Lian’s side and do everything in his power to make him remember.

He doesn’t, of course. Hua Cheng was selfish enough to accept Xie Lian’s love when he didn’t deserve it, but he is not selfish enough to force his presence on Xie Lian when he knows the god does not want him there.

Xie Lian will come to him when he wants to.

If he wants to.

All Hua Cheng can do is wait.

***

Except, apparently, Hua Cheng has entirely lost every little bit of the patience he used to possess.

The time he’s spent with Xie Lian has left him spoiled, and he only lasts a week before he is unable to hold himself back any longer. He orders Yin Yu to take care of things for the day, and then he pulls out a pair of dice and transports himself to the Heavenly Capital.

Finding Feng Xin’s palace is easy; Hua Cheng simply follows the pull he feels from his ashes until he finds himself standing in front of the imposing golden gates of the General Nan Yang palace. He passes through them with ease, Feng Xin’s defenses falling away as easily as spiderwebs.

The pull guides him around the side of palace to the gardens in the back. And there is Xie Lian, sprawled out on the grass below a crab apple tree, a bamboo hat that looks nearly identical to his old one resting on ground by his side. The spirit butterfly he sent with Xie Lian flutters through the air above him, lazily trailing between the petals that float down from the tree.

Hua Cheng stands on the path that meanders into the gardens and stares, drinking him in after a week of deprivation. He thinks he might like to paint this version of Xie Lian one day, indolent and lying on a bed of fallen blossoms.

There is something warm in his chest at the realization that Xie Lian is still wearing the ring that holds his ashes, despite the fact that Hua Cheng is certain he has no idea what it is or why it’s important. Or maybe Feng Xin and Mu Qing have told him about it, about the power and control he holds over Hua Cheng.

It doesn’t matter, of course; all that matters is that his god has chosen to continue wearing it, and it warms Hua Cheng to the bottom of his dead soul.

His gaze trails back to the hat as he begins to walk towards Xie Lian. There’s something tickling in the back of his mind, the vague outline of a thought that—

Xie Lian stiffens; Hua Cheng halts a handful of paces away from him.

There is panic swelling in his stomach as Xie Lian’s eyelashes flutter. He is just now having the realization that he is, in fact, a coward who can’t do this. What if Xie Lian is still frightened by him? What have Feng Xin and Mu Qing told him about Hua Cheng? What if Dianxia rejects him, here and now? Hua Cheng isn’t sure he can survive that.

In the split second before Xie Lian’s eyes open fully, Hua Cheng’s panic-ridden mind makes a decision for him. He finds himself throwing up the illusion of a bright-eyed teenager and hiding his true form, donning the same disguise he wore when he first wormed his way into Xie Lian’s life all those months ago.

He would almost think of it as fitting if he wasn’t so busy hating himself.

Xie Lian blinks when his gaze lands on Hua Cheng’s face and his arm—the one with Ruoye wrapped around the wrist—jerks to a standstill.

There is a tense moment of silence, and then—

“Good morning,” Hua Cheng blurts out.

Xie Lian slowly lowers his hand, offering a small, hesitant smile and an even more hesitant, “Good morning.”

Then, they both fall silent. Hua Cheng stares at Xie Lian and Xie Lian stares back and neither of them says a single word.

It’s Xie Lian who folds first and breaks the horrid silence. “Ah, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we’ve met before. Are you one of General Nan Yang’s subordinates?”

Hua Cheng silently thanks his husband for providing him with the perfect cover.

“Yes,” he says. “This one is San Lang and answers to General Nan Yang.”

He bends slightly at the waist, then, in what he hopes is a form appropriate for his supposed station. He has never bothered to learn the ins and outs of etiquette and social cues in the Heavenly Court—why would he bother with something so frivolous when he has always had He Xuan to turn to whenever he does have a question? The other ghost’s escapades with the Shi siblings were certainly ridiculous, but the whole thing did have its benefits.

Well, it had its benefits for Hua Cheng. Whether or not there ended up being any benefit from the whole affair for He Xuan was debatable.

“General Nan asked me to see to His Highness,” he continues. “If there is anything you need, please let this one know and I will get it for you.”

Xie Lian huffs a small sound of amusement. “Anything I want, San Lang says?”

Hua Cheng nods eagerly. “Anything at all.”

“What if I wanted dazhu gansi fresh and steaming from Yangzhou?” Xie Lian asks.

Hua Cheng pouts. It takes every single ounce of willpower he can muster to not let out a whine of ‘gege’.

“Your Highness,” he says instead; the shape of it feels unwieldly and wrong in his mouth, so used to addressing his husband with the same form of address in the old Xian Le dialect, a dialect in which the title is more a term of endearment and worship than anything else. “Please don’t tease this one. I’m too gullible, I might just go down to Yangzhou and get you your food.”

“Mn,” Xie Lian hums apologetically, offering Hua Cheng a slightly more genuine smile than the one he gave before. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t want San Lang to go through all that trouble for me.”

Hua Cheng shakes his head at that, the need to ensure Xie Lian that nothing is too much trouble when it comes to him too deeply ingrained in his very being for him to resist.

“It would be no trouble,” he says, “but this San Lang wouldn’t want to be busy doing something unimportant if it would prevent him from fulfilling His Highness’ true needs.”

Xie Lian laughs. Standing, he brushes the grass from his robes and picks up his bamboo hat, placing it on his head before beginning to walk down the path leading deeper into the gardens. Hua Cheng trails after him.

“Well, perhaps San Lang could provide me with some company, then?” Xie Lian suggests as they walk. He slows down so that they are side by side, glancing at Hua Cheng out of the corner of his eye. “Or do you not feel like talking much at the moment? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Hua Cheng shakes his head. “It would be an honor to talk with His Highness. What would His Highness like to talk about?”

Xie Lian tilts his head consideringly. “Has San Lang gone on any interesting missions for Nan Yang recently?”

Of all the things you could have asked, Hua Cheng bemoans silently.

“None at all, Your Highness. I’m a little new, and General Nan doesn’t trust me yet,” he says, pouting for added effect.

It has Xie Lian laughing lightly, covering his mouth in that adorable way he always does when he thinks he’s being impolite by giggling. Hua Cheng beams. Xie Lian doesn’t remember him, but he can still make his god laugh! He thinks that must count for something, at least.

“Does His Highness find this San Lang’s suffering amusing?” Hua Cheng asks. He sighs and bows his head, adding, “Though, I suppose compared to a god as magnificent and talented as His Highness, this lowly one truly is incompetent.”

Xie Lian’s eyes widen. His hand falls back to his side as his mouth drops open.

“San Lang!” he cries. “I didn’t say that!”

Hua Cheng fights to keep his expression from devolving into a grin. He hasn’t had the opportunity to tease Xie Lian in over a week, no one can blame him for wanting to milk this for all that it’s worth.

“It’s alright,” he says. “This one knows that—”

Xie Lian reaches out and makes an abortive move to swat at Hua Cheng’s arm. He hesitates at the last second, though, and pulls back with a sheepish, slightly confused twist to his lips. Hua Cheng does his best to silence the inner voice that is practically sobbing over being deprived of his god’s touch.

“Well,” Xie Lian says, clearing his throat and looking away, “if San Lang hasn’t been on any missions, then what has he been doing?”

Mostly crying, Hua Cheng thinks. A little bit of property destruction.

“Paperwork,” Hua Cheng says. “This one’s duties are, unfortunately, mostly administrative.”

Xie Lian frowns, eyes trailing down to glance at Hua Cheng’s hip. “Nan Yang is a martial god. Do you not train?”

Hua Cheng hums his agreement. “Of course. Would Your Highness like to spar?”

Xie Lian’s eyes widen, and he freezes mid-step.

“Really?” he asks—Hua Cheng would die a thousand times over just to keep that excitement in his voice. “San Lang would spar with me?”

“It would be San Lang’s honor,” he says.

And so, Hua Cheng finds himself being half-dragged, half-guided by Xie Lian to Feng Xin’s armory. The entire time, Xie Lian chatters about how Feng Xin and Mu Qing are far too busy to spare the time to spar with him—of course, he doesn’t say as much, but Hua Cheng knows there is more to it than that.

Xie Lian’s so-called friends have something of a guilt complex when it comes to him—as they should, of course, considering the shit they pulled in the past—and Xie Lian has complained to Hua Cheng many times that they have both always held back the few times he has sparred with either of them since they began to repair their friendship.

Hua Cheng can sympathize with the notion of not wanting to hurt Xie Lian, but he thinks it’s insultingly arrogant of those two to think they could ever be good enough to win against him.

While Xie Lian selects a sword from the wall holding Feng Xin’s—annoyingly impressive—collection of weapons, Hua Cheng hunts down a scimitar with a grip and weight that is vaguely the same as E-ming’s. He wants to impress Xie Lian, after all, and as much as he hates the damn thing, E-ming is the weapon he’s most comfortable and skilled with.

“Ready?” Xie Lian asks, standing across from Hua Cheng in the sparring room that branches off from the armory.

Hua Cheng grins and spins the scimitar between his fingers. “Ready when you are, Your Highness.”

Xie Lian does not hesitate. He attacks viper-quick, ducking low and slashing out at Hua Cheng’s legs with his sword. Hua Cheng, familiar with Xie Lian’s fighting style, throws himself into the air and spins out of the way to avoid the attack. He lands back on his feet and swings his borrowed scimitar in an arc toward Xie Lian’s neck in the same movement, letting his momentum carry him forward.

Bending backwards to avoid the strike, Xie Lian pops back up and peers at Hua Cheng with an assessing glint in his eyes.

“You said Nan Yang didn’t think you were talented enough to go out on missions?” he questions.

Hua Cheng smirks and darts forward to slice at his god’s chest. Xie Lian brings his sword up to block the move, the sound of ringing metal echoing through the room.

“General Nan has high standards,” he says easily.

He slides his blade out from under Xie Lian’s and aims low this time. Xie Lian spins away with all the grace of a dancer, his white robes swirling around him. Hua Cheng thinks he might make a statue of that moment.

“Does he?” Xie Lian asks as his sword slices through the air in a direct path toward Hua Cheng’s shoulder. “And San Lang’s skills don’t meet those standards? They must be very high, indeed.”

Hua Cheng feints to the right and as Xie Lian darts forward, he spins around, ending up directly behind his husband. Xie Lian, of course, does not give Hua Cheng time to bring the scimitar up to his neck—he slides away from Hua Cheng like water, and he is forced to duck down to the avoid the sword that comes arcing towards his face.

“This San Lang is not nearly as talented as His Highness makes him out to be.”

Xie Lian laughs again and makes another move for Hua Cheng’s face. He hooks his scimitar around Xie Lian’s blade, using his god’s momentum to yank him forward and loosen his grip on the sword.

Again, Xie Lian slides out of the maneuver easily, letting his grip on the blade adjust as need be and rolling to slash at Hua Cheng’s ankles.

By the time Hua Cheng does manage to get Xie Lian’s blade away from him, they are both disheveled and dripping with sweat. Xie Lian doesn’t let the loss deter him, though, continuing to duck and jump out of the way of Hua Cheng’s attacks for another good while before Hua Cheng finally decides to use brute force and is able to dart forward fast enough to successfully tackle Xie Lian to the ground.

“Ah!” Xie Lian gasps, the breath jolted out of his lung as his back hits the floor.

Hua Cheng leans over him, careful to keep most of his weight off of Xie Lian, and smiles as he taps his scimitar gently against his throat.

He doesn’t linger there, though, sitting up and moving off Xie Lian partly for his own good and partially because he doesn’t want to make his god uncomfortable.

“Would His Highness like to go again?” he asks as he offers a hand to help Xie Lian up.

Xie Lian shakes his head and takes the proffered hand. “San Lang has already been kind enough to spar with me this once. I wouldn’t dare impose on your time for another around—I’m sure there are many things you need to attend to.”

Normally, this would be when Hua Cheng assures Xie Lian that there is nothing more important than attending to him, but he doubts hearing that promise from a near stranger would make Xie Lian smile the way he usually does.

“Alright,” he says instead. He doesn’t want his time with Xie Lian to end quite so soon, though, so… “Would His Highness allow this San Lang to escort him back to his rooms, then? Or to wherever he might be going next?”

Xie Lian opens his mouth to answer, likely to refuse the offer, but before a word can escape his lips, he is interrupted by the sparring room’s door banging open and Feng Xin’s annoying voice calling, “Your Highness! There you are, I’ve been looking all—”

He cuts himself off when he sees Hua Cheng standing there. For a moment, he just gapes, floundering for words, and then his eyes blaze with anger and he begins to march towards Hua Cheng.

“What—”

“Feng Xin!” Xie Lian says happily, and Hua Cheng knows that he isn’t quite that oblivious so he must be purposefully ignoring Feng Xin’s obvious anger. “San Lang and I were just sparring. Your standards for your subordinates really must be too high, by the way, if you won’t allow someone of his skill level out on missions.”

Feng Xin starts spluttering again. Hua Cheng raises a threatening eyebrow, daring him to say anything.

“I—you—”

“Feng Xin?” Xie Lian asks, frowning.

“San Lang,” Feng Xin hisses, glaring bitterly at Hua Cheng. “A word, if you will.”

Hua Cheng fights down a smug smile sparked by the hint of fear he sees in his eyes underneath the anger. Feng Xin knows what Hua Cheng could do to him if he blows his cover, knows it and fears it. It makes satisfactory glee bubble in his chest even as he pretends to acquiesce to the miserable god’s order.

“Your Highness,” he says to Xie Lian, bowing deeply. “Hopefully we shall meet again soon.”

Xie Lian smiles gently and hums his agreement, and then Hua Cheng follows Feng Xin out of the practice room and into the hallway.

The moment the door closes behind them, Feng Xin opens his mouth to start yelling.

Hua Cheng holds up a hand. “Do you want Dianxia to hear?”

Feng Xin’s mouth snaps closed. His eyes dart toward the door, and he lets out an annoyed huff before he begins to stomp down the hallway. Hua Cheng follows at a much more graceful, sedate pace.

He brings Hua Cheng back out to the gardens where he first came across Xie Lian. Once they are a respectable distance from Feng Xin’s palace and any potential curious eyes and ears, Feng Xin stops, spins around, and aims a punch at Hua Cheng’s nose.

Hua Cheng grabs Feng Xin’s wrist before the blow can land, of course. He squeezes tightly and feels the bones creaking in his grasp.

“What the fuck?” he hisses.

“Exactly!” Feng Xin growls. “What the fuck, Hua Cheng?”

Hua Cheng huffs and squeezes Feng Xin’s wrist one more time for good measure. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

He lets go, then, stepping back and straightening his robes. They’re still a little out of order from his fight with Xie Lian and rearranging them is of much greater importance than whatever silly little things Feng Xin wants to yell at him.

Said martial god obviously received this insult loud and clear based on the way he scowls and rolls his eyes dramatically.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he clarifies.

“I came to see Xie Lian, of course,” Hua Cheng says, arching an eyebrow. “He might not remember me, but he is still my husband. Did you really think I was simply going to entrust his care to you two idiots without even bothering to check and make sure you were treating him well?”

“Of course, we’re treating him well!” Feng Xin yells.

It’s Hua Cheng turn to roll his eyes, now.

“Because you’ve always taken such excellent care of him in the past,” he says sarcastically.

Feng Xin clenches his jaw at that, but unfortunately doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he jabs an accusing finger toward Hua Cheng’s chest and asks, “And why did you come like this? Why are you wearing that—that stupid skin?”

Hua Cheng scoffs. “Do you think I am an idiot? I know I scared him when—before he left Paradise Manor. I don’t want to put any further strain on him when he’s already—”

“No,” Feng Xin interrupts. He shakes his head, something darkly furious in the tense lines around his eyes and mouth. “That’s utter bullshit, Hua Cheng, and you know it is.”

Maybe Hua Cheng should maim him just a little bit, even if it makes Dianxia upset—clearly, Feng Xin has become too comfortable if he thinks he can talk to him like that.

“You came here looking like that and told him your name was San Lang because you knew he might turn you away if he knew who you really were,” Feng Xin continues, seemingly oblivious to the very real threat of death Hua Cheng increasingly poses with each word that leaves his mouth. “But you’re too selfish to care about that, about what he wants. You wanted to see him because you’re fucking obsessed with him, so you lied to him and fooled him into thinking he was safe with you so that you could spend time with him regardless of his wants or feelings.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Hua Cheng snarls. “He is safe with me, and if you dare imply otherwise ever again I’ll tear you limb from limb.”

Feng Xin reaches up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “That, right there, is your exact problem, Hua Cheng. Normally, Xie Lian doesn’t mind your stupid overprotective nonsense, so it’s…fine. But right now, he doesn’t remember anything about you, so you need to stop with the overreactions and the borderline stalking and—all of it. Until he gets his memories back, you need to stop all of it.”

Hua Cheng doesn’t anything in response, he just glares. It’s easy for Feng Xin to say these things, because he doesn’t understand. Xie Lian hasn’t lost his memories of him, and even if he had, it wouldn’t be the same. Xie Lian doesn’t mean the same thing to Feng Xin as he does to Hua Cheng—he is Hua Cheng’s everything.

“I know this is far from easy,” Feng Xin says quietly, “but…but the Xie Lian in there? He really isn’t your husband, Hua Cheng, and you can’t keep treating him like he is.”

“But—”

“If you’re going to say that pretending to be ‘San Lang’ is exactly what you did last time,” Feng Xin cuts in, “don’t. You and I both know that as much as it might seem like it is, it isn’t the same.”

Swallowing down the urge to yell, Hua Cheng turns away.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” he asks through gritted teeth.

Because he can’t just—he can’t just wait, if that is what Feng Xin is asking of him. He can’t wait and do nothing while he waits, at least. Yes, Hua Cheng has waited for much longer before, but he was always doing something during that time. He was always searching for Xie Lian, always hunting down leads as to where his god might be now, always doing something to prepare for the day he eventually found him to ensure that Xie Lian would be as comfortable as possible in Ghost City, in Paradise Manor, in Hua Cheng’s life.

Feng Xin sighs.

“Wait until he’s ready,” he says, and Hua Cheng wants to scream. “Xie Lian will come to you eventually, Hua Cheng. He knows you are supposed to be important to him, even if he can’t remember it. He won’t just…give up without trying to get to know you, to understand why he once let you into his life. I know him, and I know he won’t let you go so easily.”

“‘Eventually,’” Hua Cheng growls. “How long is eventually?”

“Knowing Xie Lian’s tendency to dive headfirst into problems,” Feng Xin says, “It won’t be nearly as long as Mu Qing wishes it would be.”

The joke doesn’t comfort Hua Cheng at all.

He doesn’t give a shit about what Mu Qing wants or what Feng Xin knows about Xie Lian’s character. He just wants his Xie Lian back. Spending time with him today, sparring with him the way they so often do in the practice room in Paradise Manor, hasn’t alleviated his yearning at all. If anything, it has only made it worse.

“Let me know when he’s ready, then,” he manages to say, and then he begins stalking back toward Feng Xin’s palace, pulling a pair of dice out so that when he steps through the doors to the palace, he finds himself in Paradise Manor instead.

The tears do not wait even a second before they begin pouring down Hua Cheng’s face.

Fuck being an emotionless, powerful Ghost King. Fuck being Hua Chengzhu. He misses his husband, and he might never get him back regardless of how hard he tries, so Hua Cheng fucking deserves to cry a bit more. He—

“San Lang?”

Hua Cheng’s head jerks up at the sound of Xie Lian’s gentle voice.

He finds his beloved god hovering awkwardly in the doorway of their bedroom. Something in Hua Cheng revolts at the thought of Xie Lian being unsure of his place here, as though this entire manor wasn’t built specifically to give him a home.

“Dianxia,” he says miserably, reverting to the Xian Le dialect. His lie has already been revealed to Xie Lian and there’s no point in hiding it any longer. “This one is sorry for daring to lie to you, I know you do not allow your worshippers to kneel in penance but if—”

“Nonsense,” Xie Lian chides. He moves forward, still a little hesitant but apparently determined enough in his aim to comfort Hua Cheng to overcome that hesitance. “San Lang has done nothing wrong. I…I knew San Lang was Hua Cheng the entire time, actually.”

His cheeks flush and his expression turns abashed as he says that last bit, and Hua Cheng wishes more than anything that he could kiss the red tip of his nose.

“You… But how?”

“You called yourself San Lang once, that morning,” Xie Lian tells him.

Hua Cheng wants to slam his head against the wall. Maybe he will, when Xie Lian leaves again—because even if he is here now, somehow, he will leave again. Hua Cheng knows it.

“How did you find me?” he asks to distract himself from the thought. “I’m assuming you don’t remember the way hom—the way to Paradise Manor, if you don’t remember me…”

Xie Lian holds up the hand with the red thread tied around his finger.

“Ah,” Hua Cheng says.

They both fall silent, then, neither of them quite knowing what to say. Hua Cheng feels like he did all those months ago when Xie Lian first came back to him; unsure and unstable, like the ground could fall away beneath his feet at any given moment.

“Dianxia,” he says again.

“Yes?” Xie Lian asks.

Hua Cheng curls his hands into fists and steels himself. “You don’t need to force yourself to see me if you don’t wish to. This miserable excuse for a husband understands that he frightened you and lied to you, so—”

Xie Lian sighs and takes another step forward. He hesitates for a moment, and then he walks toward their bed, settling on the edge and patting the spot next to him. Obediently, Hua Cheng sits next to him.

“San Lang doesn’t need to be sorry,” Xie Lian says quietly. “I know that this can’t be easy for you. I keep thinking about how I would feel if Feng Xin or Mu Qing forgot all their memories of me. It’s a pale comparison, I know, but…but I know I would be devastated.”

Hua Cheng nods. Devastated is an apt word to describe how he feels.

“Still,” he says, “it isn’t Dianxia’s burden to bear.”

“No, I suppose not,” Xie Lian sighs, and Hua Cheng gets the sense that the agreement stems more from Xie Lian’s knowledge that Hua Cheng won’t back down on this matter than from genuine agreement. “But that doesn’t mean San Lang should be alone in his suffering.”

Xie Lian reaches up and his fingers brush across Hua Cheng’s cheeks, wiping away the tears that have begun to dry there.

“I know that San Lang was…is important to me,” he says, his self-correction sending Hua Cheng’s heart soaring. “Feng Xin and Mu Qing told me that we—ah, well, that is, they said that San Lang was—that we were—that I—”

Hua Cheng can’t help but chuckle at the way Xie Lian stumbles over the words.

“They told gege that this San Lang is his husband?” he asks smoothly.

Xie Lian flushes bright red but nods all the same. “Yes. Yes—that.”

“And what did Dianxia think of that?” Hua Cheng asks.

He leans in teasingly close because fuck what Feng Xin said—he has always teased Xie Lian, even back when he was pretending to be San Lang the first time. Besides, if Hua Cheng wants Xie Lian to be able to make his own choice about whether or not he wants to try to recover his memories, then shouldn’t he make sure Xie Lian has an accurate idea of what he has forgotten? Shouldn’t he treat Xie Lian as he usually does?

Yes, Feng Xin might’ve been right about the whole ‘pretending to be a subordinate named San Lang in case Xie Lian was still afraid of him and wasn’t ready to see him’ thing, but Hua Cheng isn’t so sure he was right about him needing to act differently around Xie Lian.

(Minus the outburst of anger. Maybe that was also a good suggestion.)

“Was Dianxia frightened to learn that he is married to an evil Ghost King?” Hua Cheng presses.

Xie Lian squeaks and pushes Hua Cheng away. “San Lang!”

“Hmm?” Hua Cheng pokes at Xie Lian’s arm, emboldened by the flush spreading and deepening across Xie Lian’s face and down his neck. “What did gege think?”

“I don’t think San Lang is evil,” Xie Lian says.

Hua Cheng freezes. That…wasn’t exactly what he was asking, but he also is very much so not opposed to hearing it.

“No?” he asks hoarsely. “Even though I’m one of the Four Calamities? Even though I’ve done terrible things? I destroyed thirty-three gods in a single night, once; did they tell you that?”

“You issued them a challenge, didn’t you?” Xie Lian asks. When Hua Cheng nods, he adds, “Then, they knew what they were doing when they accepted. Perhaps burning their temples was a bit…drastic, but they should not have agreed to your terms if they weren’t prepared to meet them.”

Hua Cheng shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe I just like destroying things.”

Xie Lian bites his lip. “And…thirty-three is a very specific number.”

Against his will, Hua Cheng’s muscles tense. He forgot that Xie Lian had more of the puzzle pieces this time—he knew Hua Cheng cared about him, knew that he loved him. Of course, he would put two and two together, especially if he took the time to ask someone exactly which gods Hua Cheng destroyed.

“They were the gods who drove me away from the mountain, weren’t they?” Xie Lian continues. “You…you challenged them because of me?”

Hua Cheng, helpless to do anything else, simply nods.

“Why?” Xie Lian asks—begs, more accurately. “I know I was wandering, then. I know I’m not missing any memories from them. There’s a…fuzziness from the last couple of years I suppose must be from the memories I’m missing, but—if you’ve only been in my life since then, then why would you…”

Xie Lian takes a breath.

“You call me Dianxia,” he goes on. “But even if you were born in Xian Le, that can’t be why. You would’ve long since let go of your belief in me—you should’ve let go of your belief in me, after everything I did.”

Hua Cheng wants nothing more than to drop to a knee and remind Xie Lian that not all of his believers gave up on him, but he knows that it would mean nothing to him, now. Not unless Hua Cheng tells him, and even though he desperately wants to, he knows that he cannot tell him.

He can’t fill in the blank spaces for Xie Lian. He can’t give him the memories he has lost, can’t flesh out all the pieces of their story that he is missing.

“Please don’t ask me that,” Hua Cheng begs. “Please, Dianxia, it isn’t fair to either of us.”

Xie Lian stares at him for a long moment, eyes searching, and then he blinks and looks away.

“You’re right.” He sighs shakily and rises to his feet. “Of course, you’re right. I’m sorry, San Lang, I shouldn’t have pushed, I know this isn’t—”

He cuts himself off and shakes his head.

“I should go,” he says.

“Wait!”

Hua Cheng lunges forward before he can think better of it and grabs his god’s arm.

“Will you…will you come back, Dianxia?” he asks.

Xie Lian is silent for a long moment. Hua Cheng can practically feel the phantom thudding of his heart; he knows that if he were alive, it would be beating frantically as he waits for Xie Lian’s answer.

“Tomorrow,” he finally says, and Hua Cheng’s entire body relaxes. “I’ll come back tomorrow, San Lang.”

“Thank you,” he sighs. “Dianxia is too kind to this lowly one.”

Xie Lian throws an amused look over his shoulder, his eyes glittering. “San Lang is too dramatic, I think.”

He gently shakes off Hua Cheng’s hand, then, and hurries out the door before Hua Cheng can say anything else—likely, he somehow already knows that when accused of being over the top, Hua Cheng will only become even more dramatic. At least, he will if it’s Xie Lian doing the accusing.

Still, even if Xie Lian’s departure is far too hurried for Hua Cheng’s liking, he is settled by the reassurance that his god will be back tomorrow.

Really, his husband is too good for this world. Anyone else would have refused to see Hua Cheng ever again after learning who he was and what he has done; anyone else would have been thankful for losing their memories of someone so horrific and undeserving.

Not Xie Lian, though. He might not remember Hua Cheng, but he has always been too kind and forgiving for his own good, always thinking the best of even the worst people. Apparently, this optimism extends to even Hua Cheng, the worst of the worst.

He wants to smack himself for forgetting just how good Xie Lian is. Of course, Xie Lian won’t allow himself to form an opinion on Hua Cheng and their forgotten relationship without giving Hua Cheng a chance. Of course, he wants to get to know Hua Cheng before he makes a decision about him.

Mind made up, Hua Cheng stands and begins to make his way to his workroom.

He thinks that painting a new piece in Xie Lian’s honor will do as penance for forgetting for even a moment how unbelievably good and kind his god is. Besides, he might as well paint the scene from today under the crab apple tree before it begins to fade in his memory.

Perhaps, in a few days, when Xie Lian feels a little more comfortable with him, Hua Cheng can give the painting to him as a gift.

***

Silently, Hua Cheng watches as Yin Yu paints the final character on the final lantern with painstaking precision.

He loathes that he wasn’t the one to inscribe the temple’s name on the Blessing Lanterns, but, well. Hua Cheng knows his own limitations, and the name of Qiandeng Temple must be clear. There can be no question as to where these lanterns came from.

“Chengzhu,” Yin Yu calls, breaking Hua Cheng out of his thoughts. “It’s finished.”

Hua Cheng nods. “Good. You may go.”

His assistant sets down the calligraphy brush and unfolds his legs from underneath himself. Rising, he offers Hua Cheng a half-bow and then takes his leave.

The doors of the temple swing shut behind him with a resounding thud.

Alone in the dimly lit main hall of Qiandeng Temple, Hua Cheng places a steadying hand on E-ming’s hilt and surveys the currently unlit lanterns spread out over the floor. Three thousand of them, to be exact. More, he knows courtesy of He Xuan, than a single Heavenly Official has ever received in a single night, even the Heavenly Emperor himself.

Hua Cheng reaches out and traces his fingers over the delicate paper of the nearest one. The ink has long since dried, but he still takes great care as he runs his fingertips over the character for light.

Drawing his hand away, Hua Cheng wonders to himself whether Xie Lian will realize who lit these lanterns for him. The temple is silent around him, offering no answers.

When the time comes, he waves a hand through the air and a wave of his butterflies flit through the windows of the temple. They swarm aimlessly around the lanterns for a moment before they land on the paper, lifting the Blessing Lanterns off the ground.

Hua Cheng removes his dice from his robes and strides through the doors of Qiandeng Temple and onto the grounds of Paradise Manor. The butterflies, having done their duty in bringing the lanterns here, bleed away into the night sky, streaks of soft silver dusting through the air before they fade away altogether.

Bending down, Hua Cheng picks up one of the Blessing Lanterns. It is nearly weightless in his hands, nothing but flimsy rice paper and thin sticks of bamboo, the only real weight coming from the small candle resting in the mouth of the lantern.

In a way, it reminds Hua Cheng of his devotion to his god. Flimsy and insubstantial. Not enough. Never enough.

Sighing, Hua Cheng snaps his fingers.

The candles spark to life, and the Blessing Lanterns begin to drift into the sky, one by one.

Flexing his fingers around the lantern he holds, Hua Cheng closes his eyes and sends a silent prayer into the night.

There is no god greater or more deserving than you, Dianxia. This lowly worshipper can only hope that these lanterns might prove that.

Hua Cheng lifts his arms and loosens his grip on the Blessing Lantern, opening his eyes to watch as it drifts up through the air to join the others as they float away. Three thousand tiny pinpricks of light, indistinguishable from the stars.

He knows that it is an offering unworthy of being released in the name of his god, but it is all that he has to give.

***

When Xie Lian arrives at Paradise Manor the next morning, Hua Cheng is in the middle of having a minor crisis over which form he should wear.

Will Xie Lian still be frightened if he shows him his true form? His husband has assured him so many times that his…that is not nearly as hideous as Hua Cheng personally finds it, but perhaps that will have changed now that the only memory Xie Lian has of that form is that one terrifying morning.

So, perhaps the San Lang skin will be the better choice—that is the form that Xie Lian spoke with yesterday, the form Hua Cheng was wearing when Xie Lian made the choice to follow after him, so—

“Chengzhu?” Yin Yu calls through the door.

“What?” Hua Cheng snaps. “I told you, I don’t want to hear about any problems today. Deal with them yourself, and if you really can’t, then—”

“His Highness has arrived,” his assistant interrupts.

Hua Cheng jolts and rapidly throws up his San Lang guise. Then, he throws open the door, glaring at Yin Yu. “Well, why didn’t you say that first?”

Yin Yu, in all his graciousness, refrains from saying anything in answer to that. He simply steps aside so that Hua Cheng can leave his room and walks with him to the receiving hall where Xie Lian is apparently waiting.

“Like I said,” Hua Cheng repeats before he enters the room. “I don’t want to be bothered with anything today, Yin Yu. I will fire you if you or anyone else interrupts my time with Dianxia.”

Yin Yu nods solemnly. “I will ensure that there are no interruptions.”

Hua Cheng does not bother thanking him—it’s his job, anyway. He simply turns away and throws open the doors to the receiving room, calling out an excited “Dianxia!” when he sees Xie Lian standing awkwardly in the middle of the large hall.

Xie Lian turns around at the call of his title, eyes crinkling with his smile when he sees Hua Cheng. Really, if Hua Cheng still had a beating heart, Xie Lian would be so, so bad for it.

“San Lang,” he greets as Hua Cheng approaches. “How are you?”

“It is always a good day when this San Lang is able to spend time with Dianxia,” Hua Cheng tells him, delighting in the blush that tints Xie Lian’s cheeks. “What does Dianxia wish to do today?”

“Oh,” Xie Lian says. He looks more than a little surprised, as though he expected Hua Cheng to come prepared with a plan for the day. Shit, should he have come prepared with a plan for the day? “Whatever San Lang wants to do, I suppose. What do…”

His voice trails off before he can finish the question, his eyes shifting away uncertainly, but Hua Cheng can guess where he was going.

“What do we usually do?” he prompts gently.

Xie Lian nods. “If that’s alright to ask?”

Hua Cheng hums. He really shouldn’t, it would really be taking advantage of the situation, but…

“Gege often cooks for this San Lang,” he tells Xie Lian. “I’ve missed it terribly in the week that you’ve been away.”

And he really has—Hua Cheng is normally granted the honor of eating a meal cooked by Xie Lian at least once a day, and he’s grown used to it. This past week, he has been forced to rely solely on the food produced by the cook he employs, and it has been torture.

Xie Lian’s eyes are wide with surprise, though, as if him cooking was the last thing he expected Hua Cheng to mention.

“Really?” he asks. “You…you enjoy my cooking?”

“Of course! Dianxia’s food is the best in the world.”

Xie Lian looks very unsure about that, but he also looks vaguely excited. Considering the poor taste those two ungrateful dogs of his have when it comes to Xie Lian’s food, Hua Cheng supposes he hasn’t been allowed anywhere near the kitchen in the time he has been staying with Feng Xin.

“Please?” Hua Cheng whines. “Just something simple?”

“Alright,” Xie Lian says, and Hua Cheng’s chest flutters with excitement. “If San Lang insists.”

“Follow me, then,” Hua Cheng says and begins to lead Xie Lian to the kitchens.

Normally, he would use his dice to transport them there immediately. But he wants Xie Lian to refamiliarize himself with the manor, and taking a meandering route to reach the kitchens provides the perfect opportunity to do so without it being too obvious that that is what Hua Cheng is angling for.

When they do finally arrive at the kitchens, Hua Cheng quickly dismisses the ghosts that are currently working there so that Xie Lian can have free reign of the entire space. He suspects that Xie Lian would be more uncomfortable with this easy dismissal if not for the way the staff are obviously used to having this order thrown at them rather frequently.

Their eager greetings toward Xie Lian likely also help—even though Hua Cheng knows they are only happy to see him because Xie Lian has a well-known reputation in Ghost City for tempering the Chengzhu’s ruthlessness, he is thankful all the same for the way the warm welcome clearly makes Xie Lian feel much more comfortable.

“Use anything you’d like,” he tells his husband, gesturing toward the massive wall of cabinets in the back of the kitchen where the ingredients are stored. “If there’s anything you can’t find, just let me know.”

Xie Lian hums his appreciation and wanders over to the cabinets, fingers trailing over their wood edges as he examines the ingredients inside.

When he begins to take out the ingredients Hua Cheng recognizes as being the base for his Ever-lasting Happiness wontons, he has to resist the urge to break into an undignified dance of excitement.

It’s as though, even without his memories, some part of Xie Lian still knows Hua Cheng’s favorite dish.

“Have you decided on what to make, then?” he asks innocently.

Xie Lian nods before beginning to ferry the ingredients from the cabinet to the counter by the stove. Hua Cheng moves forward to help him, but he gently brushes him aside.

“Yes,” he says. “I think I’ll make my Ever-lasting Happiness wontons, if that sounds alright?”

“I love them, actually,” Hua Cheng assures him.

Xie Lian looks up in excitement. “I’ve made them for you before, then?”

He nods. “Many times, Dianxia.”

Humming again, Xie Lian nods happily and returns to sorting through his ingredients. As he begins the process of making the filling and folding the wontons, he grabs a few other things from the cabinets. Most of them Hua Cheng recognizes from other times he has watched Xie Lian make the wontons, but there are a couple of new things. There always are with Xie Lian’s dishes, though, his recipes serving more as guidelines rather than rules.

They are both silent as Xie Lian does his work—Hua Cheng doesn’t want to distract him, after all, lest he accidentally burn or cut himself. When the wontons and the broth they rest in are finally done, Xie Lian carefully carries the pot to the little table in the kitchen while Hua Cheng retrieves a pair of bowls.

“Here,” he says, ladling out some of the soup and handing the filled bowl to Xie Lian.

“Thank you,” his god says. “Would you like me to try it first before you—”

Xie Lian blinks as Hua Cheng shoves a wonton into his mouth, quickly followed by a spoonful of the steaming broth. He blinks against when Hua Cheng sighs in contentment over the mouthful.

“Is it good?” he asks hesitantly.

Hua Cheng nods happily. “This is the best version you’ve made yet, Dianxia.”

He shoves another wonton into his mouth; really, he doesn’t know how he made it through an entire week without this.

“I’m happy to hear that, San Lang,” Xie Lian says.

“Here,” Hua Cheng says once he’s done chewing. He takes one of the wontons out of his bowl and reaches across the table, holding his chopsticks up to Xie Lian’s lips. “Gege shouldn’t be so hesitant about trying his own cooking. Not when it’s always good.”

Xie Lian stares at him for a moment with wide eyes before slowly leaning forward, opening his mouth so that Hua Cheng can gently push the wonton past his lips. He chews slowly, tilting his head consideringly as he does so.

“Hmm,” he says, smiling slightly. “I suppose it is fairly good.”

“Of course, it is,” Hua Cheng sniffs, swallowing another mouthful of the broth. “This San Lang told you, Dianxia’s food is always excellent.”

Xie Lian shoots him an amused glance but thankfully doesn’t try to argue.

They eat the rest of the food quietly, and when they’ve both finished, Hua Cheng gathers the dishes and brings them over to the sink.

“What else would Dianxia like to do today?” he asks.

“I passed through the city on my way here,” Xie Lian says. “Would San Lang be able to show me more of it?”

Something in Hua Cheng screams with joy. Xie Lian could ask to do anything, and he asked to see the city that Hua Cheng built?

“Of course,” he says, doing his best to make sure his voice doesn’t sound too choked up. “If Dianxia doesn’t mind taking this lowly one’s hand?”

Xie Lian reaches out without hesitation and slips his hand into Hua Cheng’s outstretched one, threading their fingers together. Hua Cheng’s entire body is screaming, now.

He pulls out his dice and flings them up into the air.

“Right this way,” he tells Xie Lian, guiding him through the door and onto the main street of the market. They are instantly surrounded by noise and clamor and bustling ghosts. Xie Lian looks around in wonder, taking in the many stalls and buildings that surround them.

“San Lang built all of this, then?” he asks.

Hua Cheng hums.

“More or less,” he agrees.

“It’s beautiful,” Xie Lian tells him earnestly. “I like that it’s…it’s so much livelier than the Heavenly Capital.”

“Ghosts aren’t nearly as stuffy as gods,” Hua Cheng jokes as he begins to lead Xie Lian towards one of the vendors. He knows from their past excursions into the city that his husband adores the little hard candies that this ghost sells; if one good thing can come out of this entire fucked up situation, perhaps it will be the chance to see for a second time Xie Lian’s face lighting up with delight like it did when he first tasted these.

“Here,” he says, taking a parcel of the candies from the bowing ghost. “Try this.”

Xie Lian takes one of the little squares and pops it into his mouth. His eyes go wide, presumably at the sweetness that is currently bursting across his tongue.

“Oh, that’s very good, San Lang,” he breathes, closing his eyes.

He is so very beautiful. Hua Cheng is so very in love with him.

He forces himself not to focus on that thought, though, and instead passes the vendor some money before leading Xie Lian away from the stall.

“Come, Dianxia,” he says. “There is much more I want to show you.”

Xie Lian follows him easily, his hand slipping back into Hua Cheng’s as he asks about what else he intends to show him. He doesn’t acknowledge it, and Hua Cheng wonders if he even realizes that he’s done it; perhaps his body is operating on muscle memory?

Whatever the case, Hua Cheng isn’t about to raise his awareness and risk losing the contact.

So, he stays quiet, and holds Xie Lian’s hand, and everything feels a little bit better.

***

There is darkness and cold stone and Xie Lian is slipping out of his grasp.

Laughter rings in his ears, interwoven with harsh screams of terror, all of it bubbling up from the pool of blood that Hua Cheng sits in, redness soaking into his already red robes, drenching them and weighing them down. They’re so heavy.

Wait.

Wait, no. It is not his robes that are heavy, it is the weight of Xie Lian in his arms. And the blood is pouring from his god, it must be, that is why his Xie Lian looks so lifeless—

—except it isn’t Xie Lian in his arms, no, it is a statue of his husband, cold and lifeless and unforgiving. A poor imitation of the man who stands in front of Hua Cheng, the edges of his white robes trailing in the pool of his own blood, an accusing finger pointed in his direction as his lips soundlessly form the shape of words Hua Cheng never, ever wants to hear, words—

“San Lang!”

Hua Cheng’s eyes fly open to the sight of Xie Lian. Which—wasn’t he already looking at Xie Lian?

Except this Xie Lian is hovering over him, his knees on either side of Hua Cheng’s hips and his face close enough that his warm breath flutters over Hua Cheng’s skin.

“Dianxia?” he gasps.

Xie Lian smiles softly and smooths a hand over Hua Cheng’s hair, brushing some of the tangled strands away from his forehead. Without any real thought, he brings his arms up to wrap them around his husband’s waist. Xie Lian sinks into the embrace.

“What were you dreaming about?” he asks quietly.

Hua Cheng hums dismissively. There is no need to worry his husband with his stupid insecurities. After all, he knows Xie Lian would never reject him like that. He knows that his god would never call him a monster. And it’s not Xie Lian’s problem that Hua Cheng’s subconscious apparently can’t wrap its damn head around that.

“Nothing,” he says, leaning up to plant a silencing kiss on Xie Lian’s lips before his husband can even begin to protest.

“Nothing important,” he rectifies as he pulls away.

Xie Lian is still frowning, though, and Hua Cheng removes one hand from his waist to press his thumb against the crinkle between his brows.

“I wish that you would treat yourself more kindly, San Lang,” Xie Lian sighs.

But he doesn’t push the subject, dropping his head down to rest in the crook of Hua Cheng’s neck. Hua Cheng wraps his arm around his god’s back and begins to rub soothing circles between Xie Lian’s shoulder blades.

“My husband treats me kindly enough for the both of us, though,” he teases, laughing lightly when Xie Lian curls closer to him in embarrassment.

“San Lang,” he whines.

“Dianxia,” Hua Cheng whispers in return.

Xie Lian sighs and reaches up to run his fingers through Hua Cheng’s hair. Silence falls around them, and Hua Cheng closes his eyes again. He fully expects Xie Lian to fall back asleep, worry pushed to the side if not entirely forgotten, but then—

“I love you, San Lang,” Xie Lian murmurs, pressing the words into the skin of Hua Cheng’s neck. “More than anything.”

Hua Cheng stills, his hand pausing in its movement on his husband’s back.

“I love you, too, gege.”

Xie Lian hums. “So, San Lang shouldn’t worry about this useless god leaving him or hating him or whatever it was San Lang was dreaming about.”

“Dianxia,” he begins, though whether he means to protest the horrifically wrong characterization of ‘useless’ or Xie Lian’s unfortunately correct assumptions about the nature of his dream, he really isn’t sure.

It doesn’t really matter, though, because his husband hushes him before another word can leave Hua Cheng’s mouth.

“Let’s sleep, now,” Xie Lian says, and Hua Cheng is incapable of doing anything other than following his god’s command.

“Goodnight, gege,” he sighs.

“Goodnight, San Lang.”

***

It takes Xie Lian two weeks to ask about his true form.

They are in the Gambler’s Den when it happens, hidden behind the curtain with Xie Lian reluctantly sitting in Hua Cheng’s chair while Hua Cheng himself sits on the floor at his feet, head resting brazenly on his god’s thigh.

“San Lang?” Xie Lian whispers, and Hua Cheng mourns the loss of the fingers that were previously carding through his hair and tickling his scalp.

Xie Lian really is too accommodating of him; he figured out at some point that Hua Cheng is…very tactile and has ever since then been making sure to reach out and touch Hua Cheng in casual ways whenever the opportunity arises.

Hua Cheng assured him that he did not need to if it made him in anyway uncomfortable, but Xie Lian had only smiled and said, “But San Lang likes it and misses it, and he won’t dare to reach out by himself, so this humble god must do it for him.”

And, really, what was Hua Cheng supposed to say to that? He dares anyone to deny Xie Lian when he is so willingly offering his touch.

“Yes?” Hua Cheng asks, shifting his head slightly so that he can look up at Xie Lian.

His husband is silent for a bit. Hua Cheng waits, giving him time to think over whatever it is he wants to say.

“Why do you always wear this form?” he finally asks. When Hua Cheng stiffens, he hurriedly adds, “San Lang doesn’t need to answer if he doesn’t want to! I was just curious, but obviously if it’s a private matter or—or if San Lang is simply uncomfortable, or—oh, I’m messing this all up! I only meant—”

Hua Cheng clears his throat and sits up fully.

“It’s alright, Dianxia,” he assures, rubbing gentle circles into Xie Lian’s knee with his thumb. Xie Lian’s eyes track the motion, his breath catching slightly. “There is nothing that this San Lang would ever wish to hide from Dianxia.”

Xie Lian frowns, obviously frustrated with himself. “San Lang, you really don’t have to tell me.”

Hua Cheng shakes his head. “No, I…I know that I scared you, that first morning when you woke up without your memories. I know you were probably already terrified, waking up in the bed of a complete stranger, and I only made it worse by acting the way I did.”

“San Lang was just worried about me,” Xie Lian offers, but Hua Cheng can hear the undercurrent of guilt in his tone.

He wishes Xie Lian wouldn’t feel guilty over something that he bears no blame for. Hua Cheng is the one who scared him, after all. He is the one who, as per usual, failed to do what he should have done, what his god needed him to do.

Xie Lian needed reassurance and Hua Cheng behaved like the monster everyone thinks he is.

Like the monster he just…is, perhaps.

Not for the first time since Xie Lian lost his memories, Hua Cheng thinks that maybe he shouldn’t have tried so hard to get Xie Lian to fall back in love with him. There is a part of him that thinks that, just maybe, he should have just…let him go. He knows that there are many who would say Xie Lian is better off without him, and he isn’t sure he completely disagrees with that thought.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian calls softly, running his hand over the crown of Hua Cheng’s head to draw his attention back to the present. “Are you alright?”

Hua Cheng smiles. “I’m fine, Dianxia.”

Xie Lian nods, but he’s still frowning. Hua Cheng desperately wants him to smile again.

“Dianxia,” he begins, but Xie Lian doesn’t let him get much further than that.

“You…you really didn’t frighten me all that much, San Lang,” he says. His fingers drum against the side of Hua Cheng’s head, just above his ear, and he knows that his husband is trying to find the right words. Hua Cheng adores how thoughtful he is. “It’s true, I couldn’t remember you or why I was with you, but…”

He sighs and begins running those fingers through Hua Cheng’s hair again.

“But I wasn’t so much afraid of you as I was worried you would hurt Mu Qing or Feng Xin,” he continues. “I know Mu Qing wasn’t exactly being…well, he wasn’t being very polite, was he? And you were obviously already in a great deal of distress over the whole situation, and I just—I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Instead of wasting time talking about his husband’s stupid companions, Hua Cheng chooses to focus on Xie Lian’s lack of care for his personal safety.

“Dianxia should be more concerned with his safety,” he chides. “He should be scared when he wakes up in the beds of strange men. Really, Dianxia should have left the moment he woke up instead of waiting for this lowly one to wake.”

Xie Lian flushes dark red and his fingers falter in their gentle movements. Hua Cheng perks up, immediately honing in on the fact that there is something about that morning that his god is embarrassed over.

“Why didn’t Dianxia leave right away?” he asks.

Part of Hua Cheng wants to ask if he—well, if Xie Lian felt some innate feeling of safety lying next to him and wanted to stay to figure out why he felt that way. But he doesn’t want to hear a hard no in answer to that, so he doesn’t voice the question.

“I…Well, I…” Xie Lian tries.

He sighs and looks away from Hua Cheng.

“Ah, San Lang, you’re really too much,” he mumbles. Then, still looking resolutely away, he holds out the hand with the red thread and says, “I could feel that this tied us together. I know I would never link myself to someone lightly. And besides, it felt…”

He trails, eyes glancing back to Hua Cheng’s face before flitting away again. Hua Cheng’s gaze remains fixed and unfaltering on his god.

“It felt safe,” Xie Lian finishes quietly.

Hua Cheng wants to bundle him in his arms and never let him go. He settles for grabbing the hand Xie Lian is still holding up and squeezing it gently in his own.

“It makes this San Lang very happy to hear Dianxia say that,” he tells him.

“Anyway,” Xie Lian says, clearing his throat and gazing down at their joined hands. Hua Cheng is so, so thankful that he doesn’t pull away. “About San Lang’s form…would he still like to tell me about it?”

Hua Cheng pouts. “Can’t we talk about Dianxia some more?”

His husband chuckles. “If you’d really like to, San Lang. But… Well, I’m assuming that the other form is the one you usually wear. It was the one you were wearing when I woke up, anyways. Did San Lang change his appearance because he thought I would be frightened of that form?”

Nodding his agreement, Hua Cheng says, “This one couldn’t bear to frighten Dianxia again. And since Dianxia seemed more comfortable with this form, this San Lang thought it might be better to continue to use it.”

“Well,” Xie Lian says, “if San Lang prefers this form, then he should continue wearing it. But he shouldn’t wear it for my sake. I won’t be frightened if San Lang goes back to his…is it your true form?”

Hua Cheng nods again. “It is. Would Dianxia like to see it? San Lang will be happy to show Dianxia if he wants to see it.”

“San Lang, San Lang,” Xie Lian sighs, and there is a soft, slightly exasperated smile that Hua Cheng hasn’t seen in a while playing around his lips. “Alright, then, would San Lang show me?”

Hua Cheng drops the San Lang skin without looking away from his husband, carefully watching the emotions that play out across Xie Lian’s features. His god reaches his free hand up and traces the tips of his fingers across Hua Cheng’s eyebrows, down the bridge of his nose, and over the bow of his lips. Hua Cheng holds himself very, very still.

“San Lang is very handsome,” Xie Lian says when he is done exploring.

Hua Cheng smiles. “This lowly one is flattered Dianxia thinks so.”

Xie Lian laughs and taps a finger against Hua Cheng’s forehead.

“Ah, what will I ever do with you, San Lang?” he sighs.

“Dianxia can do whatever he likes with this San Lang,” Hua Cheng teases, leaning further into his god’s space.

Xie Lian sucks in a breath and stares down at Hua Cheng. Their faces are barely a hand’s breadth apart; Hua Cheng can feel Xie Lian’s breath, warm and sweet, fluttering over his cheeks.

Finally, Xie Lian looks away, breaking their stare. He pats Hua Cheng on the head and rises to his feet, mumbling something about making lunch as he tightens his grip on Hua Cheng’s hand and drags him in the direction of the kitchens.

***

The problem, Hua Cheng thinks as he watches the gentle rise and fall of Xie Lian’s chest as he sleeps, is that he doesn’t quite know how to approach asking Xie Lian about recovering his memories.

It would obviously be presumptive to assume that Xie Lian definitely wants his memories of Hua Cheng returned, but would it also be presumptive to even ask? Would that be too invasive, too much of an imposition on Xie Lian’s privacy and freedom to choose?

He doesn’t even know if he wants to ask—he isn’t sure he’s strong enough to handle it if Xie Lian tells him he doesn’t want the memories back, as selfish as that might be.

Reaching out a hand, Hua Cheng tucks a loose strand of hair behind Xie Lian’s ear. Then, he settles down on his side of their bed and lets his god’s soft breaths draw him into the darkness of sleep.

As a ghost, Hua Cheng has no need for sleep. But it provides an escape from the constant, anxious thoughts about Xie Lian and his memories and their relationship, so he gladly sinks into the void and lets himself become dead to the world for the next few hours.

***

The papers on his desk taunt Hua Cheng as he stares off into space, his chin resting in the palm of his hand.

He knows he really, really needs to get this paperwork done, but…

“Yin Yu,” Hua Cheng calls.

His assistant pops his head through the door a moment later, his eyes narrowing behind his mask when he sees the piles of paperwork that have barely diminished in size since he dropped them off in Hua Cheng’s office earlier that morning.

“Yes, Chengzhu?” he asks.

“I’m going to pay Black Water a visit,” Hua Cheng informs him. He ignores the obvious disapproval radiating from Yin Yu and stands from his chair. “If there’s anything particularly urgent here, feel free to sign my name for me.”

“Yes, Chengzhu,” Yin Yu says through gritted teeth.

Hua Cheng doesn’t bother sparing him another glance before he takes his dice from his robes. He makes a brief detour to the kitchens, where he retrieves one of the bags of low-quality dumplings he keeps stocked there. Then, he tosses the dice again, steps through the doorway, and finds himself standing at the edge of Black Water Island.

Immediately, He Xuan’s stupid pets jump out of the water, snapping their teeth at the ends of Hua Cheng’s robes.

Of course, they don’t actually bite him. Hua Cheng has long since assured his safety via delicious bribes, much to He Xuan’s frustration. The moment he holds up the bag of meat-stuffed dumplings, the fish begin to line up in the shallow water, fins flapping excitedly like a group of dogs wagging their tails.

“Here you go,” Hua Cheng says, and throws a handful of dumplings through the air.

“Hua Cheng!”

Hua Cheng pointedly ignores the furious call of his name in favor of continuing to feed He Xuan’s pets. Really, he’s just thankful that he won’t have to trek all the way to Nether Water Manor to speak with the other ghost.

“Stop feeding my fucking fish, you imbecile,” He Xuan snaps. “They’re supposed to hunt intruders, not be hand-fed by them.”

Hua Cheng kindly refrains from reminding He Xuan of the many times he has arrived on Black Water Island to find the other ghost kneeling at the edge of the water and petting the stupid beasts. If anyone is preventing them from being vicious monsters, it’s He Xuan himself.

“Why are you even here?” his fellow ghost grumbles, darting out a hand in an attempt to steal away the bag of dumplings that Hua Cheng easily avoids. “I thought you were too busy pampering your precious god to waste time bothering me.”

“I happen to require a sounding board,” Hua Cheng sniffs.

He tosses another handful of dumplings to the fish; He Xuan throws his hands in the air.

“Then go to Yin Yu!” he hisses. “I am not—”

“I will remind you,” Hua Cheng interrupts, “that you still owe me a great deal of money, Black Water. Of course, if you’d like to settle your debts right now, that’s fine, but otherwise…”

He Xuan glowers at him for a while before huffing in defeat.

“Fine,” he says.

“Dianxia keeps asking my permission to use the kitchens,” Hua Cheng begins without hesitation. “And the training rooms. And the gardens. And just to come to the manor in general now that I think about it.”

Groaning, He Xuan lifts a hand to rub at his temples. “Hua Cheng, what the fuck are you going on about?”

“Dianxia clearly doesn’t feel comfortable treating Paradise Manor as his home,” he sighs. It’s a tragedy, it really is, and one that he needs to remedy as soon as he possibly can. “And I don’t know how to assure him that he more than welcome to make it his home without presuming that he wants to make it his home in the first place.”

He Xuan, expression far more put-upon than the situation really calls for, glares in Hua Cheng’s direction.

“And how am I supposed to help you with that?” he asks.

“Back when you were pretending to be the Earth Master, the Wind Master used to treat your palace in the Heavenly Capital like it was his own,” Hua Cheng explains. “How did you convince him to do so?”

“I was pretending,” He Xuan reminds him.

His voice is flat, but Hua Cheng can hear the undercurrent of warning in it all the same. He Xuan does not want to talk about anything relating to his…past relationship with the Wind Master, and he will forcibly remove Hua Cheng from his territory if he takes this interrogation too far.

“Yes, yes, I know, but you still had to have something to get him to act that way.”

“Shi—The Wind Master and Xie Lian are very different people,” He Xuan says slowly. “The Wind Master did not need any encouragement or real permission to treat my palace like it was his own. Xie Lian, regardless of whatever hang ups you have about presuming he wants to make Paradise Manor his home, is too selfless to do so without very direct, explicit permission.”

Hua Cheng sighs.

Deep down, he already knew that, but he was hoping that He Xuan might be able to give him a set of magic words for smoothly asking someone else to share your home with you.

But of course, Black Water has proved to be just as useless as always.

He tells He Xuan as much but thankfully manages to get his dice out of his robes to transport him off of Black Water Island before the other ghost can act on the fury in his eyes and attack him.

Back in Ghost City, Hua Cheng slips his dice back inside his robes and begins to walk in the direction of Qiandeng Temple.

He has plans to make for asking Xie Lian to come live in Paradise Manor more permanently—the setting needs to be perfect for that question, after all, and he needs to find just the right words—and he needs absolute quiet to do so in. No distractions, such as Yin Yu and his boring paperwork, can be allowed to take his attention away from this all-important task.

Hua Cheng has a god to invite into his home, and he will damn well make sure he says yes.

***

“Alright,” Mu Qing declares, stomping into Hua Cheng’s workroom without permission and with Yin Yu frantically following behind him. “What the fuck is going on?”

Hua Cheng raises an eyebrow and sets down the paintbrush he has been holding for the past six hours since Xie Lian left Paradise Manor to return to the Heavenly Capital.

“Very likely another temple burning if you don’t get the fuck out right now,” he says.

Mu Qing rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. “I mean, what the fuck is going on with Xie Lian? He’s been coming here every day, but he won’t tell me and Feng Xin anything about it. Are you two working on figuring out what happened to him and how to get his memories back?”

Hua Cheng sighs and tilts his head toward the door to indicate that Yin Yu should leave. He nods apologetically and slips out the door, closing it behind him. Hua Cheng takes some measure of satisfaction in the way that Mu Qing tenses when he hears the door clicking shut, but he’s far too tired to enjoy it the way he usually would.

“No,” he says. “We are not.”

Mu Qing throws his hand in the air. “Then what are you doing?!”

“Talking,” Hua Cheng snaps. “Letting him reacquaint himself with me so that he can properly make a choice about whether or not he wants—”

“It’s been weeks,” Mu Qing interrupts, rolling his eyes again. “Isn’t that enough time for him to…reacquaint himself with you? Can’t he make a decision already?”

“Dianxia will make a decision when he is ready to make a decision,” Hua Cheng growls.

Mu Qing looks like he very much wants to stab him, and potentially stab himself afterwards. He just shakes his head, though, and makes a vaguely threatening gesture in Hua Cheng’s direction.

“Xie Lian isn’t going to say anything until you ask him about,” he says. “You know how he is. He wouldn’t want to impose himself on you.”

Hua Cheng shakes his head. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I can’t impose myself on him.”

Mu Qing glares at him. “So what? The two of you are going to just dance around each other for the next century? One of you needs to make a move, damn it, and since you’re the one who does remember, it needs to be you.”

“Haven’t you two been telling me for weeks that I can’t make his choices for him?” Hua Cheng demands. Really, the audacity of this cockroach. “What, is it suddenly okay to—”

For what feels like the hundredth time during the course of this singular conversation, Mu Qing opens his stupid mouth and interrupts Hua Cheng.

“Because as much as this Xie Lian isn’t really your Xie Lian,” he says, “your Xie Lian, the Xie Lian who knows and for some mystifying reason loves you, the one we’re supposed to have, would want us to do everything we possibly could to restore his memories. It isn’t fair to him if you just…don’t try.”

Hua Cheng narrows his eyes. “That sounds suspiciously unlike you. Did Feng Xin put you up to this?”

The martial god actually looks offended at that, shooting him a truly poisonous glare—one that Hua Cheng is almost impressed by—and snapping, “What, because I couldn’t possibly care about doing what’s best for Xie Lian?”

Part of Hua Cheng wants to say yes. Another part of Hua Cheng isn’t in the mood to antagonize Mu Qing today; he mostly just wants the bastard to get the hell out of his home.

“No,” he says. “It just sounds too logical for someone with the brain of a pig.”

Well. Maybe Hua Cheng isn’t entirely not in the mood to antagonize him.

Mu Qing rolls his eyes and turns to leave.

“Just figure it out,” he calls over his shoulder. “This has gone on for too long as it is, and even if Xie Lian defies all odds and says he doesn’t want his memories back, then that needs to be said, too. This liminal bullshit is just that: Bullshit.”

Hua Cheng doesn’t deign that with a respond, but he does spend the rest of the evening thinking it over.

He’s loathe to admit it, but Mu Qing might have a point for once.

***

As it turns out, things go to shit before Hua Cheng has a chance to ask Xie Lian about his feelings on getting his missing memories back.

They have just returned to Paradise Manor after spending a night out in Ghost City when it happens.

Xie Lian is tipsy on rice wine; his cheeks are flushed red, his eyes slightly glazed over. Hua Cheng has been thoroughly enjoying the lack of filter between his husband’s thoughts and words for the entire evening, appreciating the shape of Xie Lian’s mouth forming the various curses that he’s spewed out during his rants about whatever heavenly officials have pissed him off recently.

“San Lang,” he’s whining now, his body draped against Hua Cheng’s for support and his mouth dangerously close to his ear. “San Lang.”

The second call of his name is more drawn out, and Hua Cheng risks a glance down at his husband. It turns out to be a terrible idea; Xie Lian is gazing up at him adoringly, and it takes everything Hua Cheng has to not kiss him then and there.

“Yes, Dianxia?” he manages to ask.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian repeats.

Amused, Hua Cheng repeats his own question: “Yes, Dianxia?”

“San Lang is so pretty,” Xie Lian continues, words slurring together. “Maybe—maybe I’ve always been so unlucky because all my luck was being saved up to get me such a pretty, wonderful husband, hmm, San Lang? San Lang?”

Said San Lang is entirely incapable of responding to Xie Lian’s question—of responding to any question or statement that might be presented to him right now, for that matter.

Xie Lian has never before called Hua Cheng his husband—not since he lost his memories. He has taken up his old affectionate nickname of San Lang despite not knowing the history behind it, and Hua Cheng has been oh so grateful for that, but he has never referred to him as his husband.

And—and to say that—

“Dianxia really shouldn’t say things like that without warning,” Hua Cheng chokes out.

“Why not?” Xie Lian pouts. “It’s true!”

“Dianxia,” he moans.

“San Lang,” his god replies. There’s a pause, and then: “Hua Cheng.”

Hua Cheng startles and tilts his head to glance down at—

There are lips.

There are lips?

Oh. They are Xie Lian’s lips, pressed against Hua Cheng’s own in the softest kiss imaginable. His husband sighs happily and leans into it a little more, pressing a little harder against Hua Cheng’s mouth.

Hua Cheng is…Hua Cheng isn’t functioning.

It has been so long since Xie Lian kissed him, and—

He kisses him back. There really is no other option. Hua Cheng won’t let it go any farther than this, because Xie Lian is tipsy and because they haven’t talked about it, but he thinks a kiss is safe.

And if it turns out it isn’t safe, if Xie Lian hates him when he regains his senses, then Hua Cheng will just beg him to crush his ashes beneath his heel and finally remove his miserable existence from this world.

Hua Cheng reluctantly pulls away and resumes guiding Xie Lian toward their bedroom, shushing him gently when they pass the armory, and he starts to beg Hua Cheng to spar with him.

When they reach the bedroom, Hua Cheng settles Xie Lian on the bed and bends to down to slide off his boots.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian sighs again.

“Hmm?” Hua Cheng hums, loosening the ties of his outer layer slightly so that he’ll be a little bit more comfortable despite not being in sleeping clothes.

“San Lang, I love you,” his god mumbles.

Hua Cheng’s eyes widen. He stares at Xie Lian, but his husband has already slipped into sleep. His eyes are closed, and his mouth is parted slightly.

He looks adorable; Hua Cheng is having a crisis.

After another few minutes of gazing at Xie Lian, he forces himself to stand and take a seat at his desk. He is behind on paperwork, and since he definitely isn’t going to be getting any rest tonight with that on his mind, Hua Cheng might as well make a dent in the backload of work.

Really, he should show Mu Qing and Feng Xin the mountains of paperwork he has to do sometime. If they saw how much of being Hua Chengzhu was administrative work, maybe they would finally realize that he’s not quite the evil specter they believe him to be.

Not that Hua Cheng gives half a shit about their opinions, of course, but it would make Xie Lian happy if his friends would put their grudge to rest.

It’s a thought, anyway.

Hua Cheng spends the rest of the evening working his way through complaints and proposals and budget approvals. By the time morning rolls around, he is exhausted but satisfied with the progress he has made.

With a glance over at Xie Lian’s sleeping form, he decides that it would be nice if his god had warm food ready and waiting for him when he wakes.

Hua Cheng reaches out to Yin Yu in his spiritual communication array and tells him to arrange for breakfast to be brought to his room. When it’s been prepared, Hua Cheng steps out into the hallway to retrieve it from the servant who has brought it up from the kitchens.

When he steps back inside their bedroom, the bed is empty.

The tray falls from Hua Cheng’s hands, and he drops to his knees among the jagged shards of pottery.

The bed is empty, and Xie Lian is nowhere in sight.

His husband is gone.

***

“Xiao Hua!” one of the villagers shouts.

Hua Cheng turns away from the door to the shrine to smile at the woman making her way up the road that leads from the center of the village to Puqi Shrine.

“A Yi,” he says, bowing slightly in greeting. “Is there anything this one can do for you?”

The woman, who he now recognizes as Meng Qingling, comes to a stop in front of him, gesturing eagerly at the entrance to the shrine. “Has daozhang finally returned, then?”

Ah, Hua Cheng realizes. Of course, she would assume that his presence meant Xie Lian was at Puqi Shrine, too. After all, Hua Cheng rarely ever comes here without his husband.

“No, A Yi,” he says regretfully. For a moment, he considers telling her that Xie Lian is still away on business for the shrine, but in the end, he decides to tell her the truth. “Daozhang is a little ill at the moment, so I promised to come here and take care of things for him.”

Looking aghast, Meng Qingling shakes her head, reaching out a hand to pat Hua Cheng’s shoulder in a show of sympathy.

“Oh, that’s terrible,” she says. “You’re such a good young man for taking care of things for him, though, aren’t you, Xiao Hua?”

Hua Cheng beams and shrugs his shoulders. “Anything for daozhang.”

Meng Qingling chuckles and holds up the basket she holds in her other hand.

“Well,” she says, “I’ll just go in and make my offerings, and then I’ll be out of your way, Hua Xiao.”

“You could never be in my way, A Yi,” Hua Cheng assures her, but she just laughs again and makes her way into Puqi Shrine, Hua Cheng trailing behind her.

While Meng Qingling kneels in front of the alter and lights a stick of incense, Hua Cheng takes the broom from where it leans against the wall in a corner of the shrine and begins to sweep the floor. He remains in the shrine for a few hours after Meng Qingling calls out her goodbyes, tidying things up and idly dealing with the offerings that have been left at the alter by the villagers that have come by the shrine.

Finally, when he is satisfied with the condition of the shrine, he takes out his dice and transports himself back to Paradise Manor.

Xie Lian is still where Hua Cheng left him this morning, curled up in their bed with the blankets strewn about his legs in a tangled mess. Sweat shines faintly on his forehead, causing strands of his hair to stick to his skin.

Hua Cheng sits on the edge of the bed and presses a hand against his husband’s cheek, thinking for the hundredth time that it is ridiculous that there are illnesses that even gods cannot escape.

He ignores the lingering thought in the back of his mind telling him that this is his fault. If he had gone with Xie Lian to get rid of the ghost of a murdered physician that was bothering a little town over a hundred li away from Puqi Village, then perhaps he could have prevented this annoying little curse from worming its way into Xie Lian.

Right. Hua Cheng is supposed to be ignoring that train of thought, isn’t he?

Before he can berate himself any further, Xie Lian’s eyelids flutter open, hazy gaze settling on Hua Cheng’s face.

“San Lang?” his husband mumbles.

“Yes, your San Lang is here, Dianxia,” Hua Cheng tells him. It draws a smile out of his husband, and then Hua Cheng is smiling himself as Xie Lian nuzzles into his hand. “Are you feeling any better, gege?”

Xie Lian hums noncommittally, which Hua Cheng takes to mean he is very much so not feeling better.

“San Lang,” he sighs.

“I’m here,” Hua Cheng says again.

“San Lang takes such good care of me,” Xie Lian continues. He presses a kiss to the skin of Hua Cheng’s palm. “San Lang is the best thing to ever happen to this silly little scrap collector.”

Hua Cheng closes his eyes and leans down to kiss his husband’s forehead.

“Hush now, gege,” he whispers. “Go back to sleep.”

Humming again, Xie Lian reaches up and grabs a handful of Hua Cheng’s robes. He tugs him down until he lies directly on top of him.

“Goodnight,” his husband says, and then he slips back out of consciousness.

Hua Cheng chuckles and wraps his arms around Xie Lian, carefully rolling over so that his god is resting comfortably on his chest. Xie Lian snorts—really, he’s too adorable—but he thankfully does not wake again.

“Ah, Dianxia,” Hua Cheng sighs. “Gege is too kind to this undeserving ghost.”

He knows that Xie Lian would never allow him to voice such thoughts if he could hear him, but he is sleeping. Hua Cheng is free to let the truth of how little he deserves his god float through the air.

Not that it matters. Hua Cheng is too selfish of a man to ever really let Xie Lian go, no matter how often he might tell himself that he should.

Xie Lian truly is the best thing that has ever happened to him, after all.

Even that is understating it.

Xie Lian is the onlygood thing that has ever happened to Hua Cheng, so he will never, ever let him go now that he has him.

His husband snorts again in his sleep, and Hua Cheng laughs under his breath.

***

Hua Cheng, contrary to what he is sure everyone expects of him, does not storm into the Heavenly Capital and beg Xie Lian to take him back.

Instead, he buries himself in the running of Ghost City, personally seeing to more complaints and proposals and day-to-day minutiae than he ever has in the past in an effort to distract himself from how badly he fucked up.

Because he did—fuck up, that is. Xie Lian has every right to run away and never come back. Hua Cheng is glad he left; he has always wanted his god to put himself first, and he’s glad that Xie Lian finally is.

Xie Lian only kissed him because he was drunk. He never tried to kiss Hua Cheng before, when he was sober, because he didn’t want to kiss him. He never asked Hua Cheng to help him get his memories back because he didn’t want them back.

Hua Cheng has been so, so foolish to delude himself into believing otherwise, to let Mu Qing talk him into thinking otherwise.

He just…he forgot how generous Xie Lian is. Of course he didn’t shove Hua Cheng away, of course he sacrificed some of his precious time to waste away hours with an insipid little ghost, of course he agreed to cook for him. Xie Lian is inherently and fundamentally kind; he knew Hua Cheng loved him and missed him, so he sacrificed his own time and comfort to give Hua Cheng some semblance of what he lost.

Hua Cheng really should get around to penning that letter begging Xie Lian to destroy his ashes; it’s the very least he deserves as punishment for his sickening presumptions.

In fact, such a peaceful, sudden end is too good for a wretched, deceitful ghost like him. He should suffer more than that for forcing himself and his company on Xie Lian for so long.

“Perhaps Chengzhu should take a break,” Yin Yu suggests yet again.

It has been his ceaseless refrain these past few days since Xie Lian fled Paradise Manor—apparently, he’s forgotten that Hua Cheng is a ghost. He does not need rest. He does not need breaks.

What he needs is Xie Lian, but he can’t fucking have him.

He doesn’t deserve to have him.

“Chengzhu has done all the work he needs to do and then some,” Yin Yu continues. “There is no need to—”

“Yin Yu, if you don’t shut up, I will behead you,” Hua Cheng growls.

Yin Yu’s mouth snaps shut. With a tense nod, he turns around and leaves Hua Cheng alone in his office. Silence, suffocating and frigid, settles over the room once more.

Hua Cheng’s eyes trail over to the letter paper that rests on the right side of his desk.

He…he should also make it clear to Xie Lian that Paradise Manor—that the entirety of Ghost City, really—is his to keep once Hua Cheng is gone. They were both built for him, after all, so it’s only fair that he retakes his rightful ownership.

E-ming, too, is his. It won’t retain its spiritual cognition once Hua Cheng dissipates, of course, but the physical blade will remain. And Xie Lian has always cared deeply for the stupid hunk of metal—even if he doesn’t remember it, hopefully E-ming’s husk will still be able to provide him with some semblance of comfort.

Hua Cheng sighs and reaches out to grab a sheathe of paper. His fingers hesitate at the last moment, hovering indecisively in the air.

Maybe he should wait a bit. He must remember that his husband is the very same god who, all those centuries ago, demanded that none of his followers kneel in supplication. If Hua Cheng sends him a depressing letter begging for death, he’ll most likely feel obligated to pardon Hua Cheng more than anything else.

No, he decides, the letter isn’t the way to go.

Rather, he should wait—Mu Qing and Feng Xin are bound to show up eventually to defend Xie Lian’s honor, and they won’t have the same qualms about dispatching Hua Cheng from this miserable world as Xie Lian will. He can give them the directions about Paradise Manor and E-ming when they arrive; hopefully, they’ll respect his last wishes and will relay them to Xie Lian rather than staying silent in one final fuck you to the ghost king they’ve always detested.

It’s a bet he’ll have to take, though, because Xie Lian is too good to do what needs to be done.

Hua Cheng turns his gaze firmly away from the paper stack and returns to the missive he has spent the last half shi or so looking over.

All that’s left to do is wait.

***

When Mu Qing and Feng Xin do finally show their ugly faces at the gates of Paradise Manor, they aren’t alone.

Shi Qingxuan trails behind them, fan waving lazily in front of a face that wears an extremely put-upon expression. He Xuan, the bastard, stands stiffly behind him, looking even more annoyed than Shi Qingxuan does. That could just be his resting face, though. Hua Cheng can never tell.

“I didn’t realize I was hosting a party this evening,” Hua Cheng drawls.

Normally, this would be when he draws E-ming and starts to threateningly twirl the scimitar. Today, though, he has no plans to fight back if any of the gods currently gathered at his gate attack him. So, E-ming remains in its sheath.

Mu Qing growls and opens his mouth, but before he can shout anything, Feng Xin elbows him in the gut to shut him up.

“Hua Cheng,” Feng Xin says tightly once Mu Qing has been sufficiently distracted by his need to bend over to relieve the pain in his abdomen. “We would like to talk to you.”

“Talk to him?” Mu Qing demands, straightening up again. He rolls his eyes and draws his sword with a flourish, pointing it menacingly in Hua Cheng’s direction. “I thought we were here to kill the bastard!”

“Mu Qing!” Shi Qingxuan gripes, snapping his fan shut and rapping Mu Qing’s wrist with it.

Mu Qing jerks in surprise and glares at him. “What? After—”

Shi Qingxuan hits him again to shut him up, and then turns to Hua Cheng with an overly bright smile painted across his lips. He Xuan’s expression somehow turns even more miserable.

“Hua Cheng,” the former Wind Master says, “we’d just like to ask about what happened with Xie Lian. His Highness has been a little…put out, the last few days.”

“That is—”

“Don’t give us any of that ‘none of our business’ bullshit,” Mu Qing snarls. “He’s been miserable! And we all know it’s because you did something to him, you bastard. And after I gave you such clear advice! How did you manage to fuck it up so terribly?!”

Feng Xin raises an eyebrow at his fellow martial god. “What advice did you give him?”

Mu Qing at least has the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

“I just told him to confront the problem,” he snaps. “It was obvious neither of them was going to do anything without a push, and I was sick of this dancing in circles nonsense, so—”

“You shouldn’t have said anything!” Feng Xin shouts, throwing his hands in the air. “Why do you always have to shove your nose where it doesn’t belong, huh?”

“I was trying to help!” Mu Qing hollers back.

Feng Xin sneers. “Well, you sure did a fine job of it, didn’t you?”

Before either of them can lunge at the other, Shi Qingxuan steps between them.

“Aren’t we here to talk about Xie Lian?” he reminds them, shooting a slightly desperate glance over his shoulder at He Xuan. Black Water, unsurprisingly, pretends not to see the plea for help. “Why don’t we—”

Before Shi Qingxuan can finish his suggestion, there’s a momentary flash of light. When it clears, Xie Lian stumbles forward, a frantic look twisting his lovely features. Yin Yu, the damn meddler, follows behind him at a much calmer pace.

“Feng Xin! Mu Qing!” Xie Lian calls. He skids to a halt in front of them, placing himself conveniently between his sorry excuses for friends and Hua Cheng. Hua Cheng wants to tell him that he doesn’t need to worry about him hurting his companions, at least not this time. Not anymore, really. “Please, stop it! I told you; San Lang didn’t do anything!”

Hua Cheng’s thoughts screech to a halt.

Wait. Wait, what?

Was Xie Lian…

“So, don’t even think about trying to hurt him, I’ll never forgive you if you do!” Xie Lian continues, and Hua Cheng can’t see his face, but he can picture the fierce glare that he must be aiming at the two martial gods.

Hua Cheng could cry. Really, he would if it wasn’t for Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s presence—he refuses to let those two idiots see him express a single emotion other than rage and smugness. They don’t deserve it.

“Xie Lian,” Mu Qing snaps. “Clearly, he did something! You’ve been miserable ever since that morning you came back from his home in a rush.”

“San Lang did nothing,” Xie Lian repeats. “I told you to leave him be, so leave him be.”

“Dianxia,” Hua Cheng mumbles. “Dianxia, you really don’t…”

His words trail away into nothing when Xie Lian whirls around to face him. There’s something complicated in his eyes, something Hua Cheng can’t quite read.

He sighs and makes an aborted movement towards Hua Cheng.

“San Lang,” he says. And again: “San Lang.”

“Dianxia,” Hua Cheng returns. In the background, Yin Yu and He Xuan begin to quietly but forcefully herd the gods standing at Hua Cheng’s gate away from them. He barely notices their exit, though, too focused on the way Xie Lian is smiling softly up at him.

“This one should apologize to his San Lang,” he says, and Hua Cheng’s non-existent heartbeat trills at that. His San Lang. His San Lang. “I…Ah, I haven’t handled this very well, have I?”

Hua Cheng reflexively shakes his head. “Dianxia has handled things beautifully. San Lang knows that this has not been easy for him, and that he has only made it harder for Dianxia by forcing him—”

“San Lang!” Xie Lian cries, darting forward to wrap his arms tightly around Hua Cheng’s waist.

It’s so reminiscent of their moment in Mount Tonglu, in the Cave of a Thousand Gods, that it brings Hua Cheng up short.

Is…is it really possible that Xie Lian might have forgiven him already? He doesn’t even want to think it, too afraid of how devastated he will be if he allows himself to hope for it and it turns out to be nothing more than a selfish delusion. He’s been destroyed so many times over the last few weeks, in so many little ways, and he thinks the next blow might just be the one that takes him out completely.

“San Lang, I’m so sorry,” Xie Lian says. His voice is muffled because he keeps his face buried in Hua Cheng’s chest, but Hua Cheng can make out every word perfectly clearly. “I…I ran out that morning because I felt so terrible about what I’d done.”

Hua Cheng’s chest hollows out, at that.

Of course, Xie Lian felt terrible. Hua Cheng knows he didn’t want to kiss him, not really, and yet he not only allowed him to do so, but he also dared to kiss him back. Really, is there anyone is this world more terrible and selfish than him?

Except Xie Lian is just as full of endless surprises as he is full of endless kindness.

“Not because I didn’t want!” he quickly assures Hua Cheng, risking an abashed peek away from his chest and up at his face. He looks away almost immediately, though, words tumbling out of him: “I felt terrible because San Lang and I still hadn’t talked about—about it. About my memories, and how to get them back, and if San Lang even wanted me to get them back. But I kissed San Lang anyway, even though I knew how much he was suffering from this whole mess, and even though I knew kissing him without talking about it first, without clarity, would only make his suffering worse.”

Hua Cheng swallows down the unadulterated glee threatening to overwhelm him—Xie Lian…Xie Lian wanted to kiss him?

Xie Lian still wants him?

“Does…does Dianxia want his memories back, then?” Hua Cheng manages to ask, forcibly ignoring the uncertainty and fear that tries to choke off the words.

If Xie Lian says no, if he says that he wants Hua Cheng but doesn’t want their history, that he doesn’t care about the past and only wants to think about the present, then that will be okay.

Hua Cheng will find a way to make him understand just how devoted to him he is, even without his memories of their shared past.

Even without Hong-er, and Wu Ming, and the little ghost fire… Hua Cheng will ensure that Xie Lian understands how deep his devotion runs, all the same.

“Of course, I do!” his god exclaims. He gently hits Hua Cheng’s chest, looking aghast at the mere suggestion that he might not want to reclaim his lost memories. “San Lang, how could you even think that I wouldn’t want them returned to me? They’re—they’re about—and they’re mine, and…”

“Dianxia…Dianxia really doesn’t need them back if he doesn’t want them,” Hua Cheng insists when his husband’s voice trails away. He worries at his bottom lips with his teeth, considering how to word what he needs Xie Lian to understand. “Not all of Dianxia’s memories of this lowly one are good. It might…it might relieve Dianxia of some of his suffering if they stay forgotten.”

Xie Lian shakes his head. “No, San Lang. Even if they might not be the best memories, they’re memories of you, and I want them back. I want to remember everything about my San Lang.”

The tight feeling in Hua Cheng’s chest loosens at those words. Tentatively, he raises his arms and wraps them around his husband, returning the embrace that Xie Lian initiated.

“If Dianxia wants his memories back,” he whispers, gently pressing his lips to the crown of Xie Lian’s head, “then Dianxia will have his memories back.”

Xie Lian hums happily and snuggles deeper into Hua Cheng’s arms.

In a few minutes, Hua Cheng will pull his dice out and transport them into their bedroom so that Xie Lian can be more comfortable. Tomorrow, perhaps, Hua Cheng will begin searching in earnest for whatever fucker dared to steal his god’s memories of him and for a way to return what was stolen. Eventually, Xie Lian will have his memories back and he will be the Xie Lian that Hua Cheng has known and loved for so long, and this entire experience will be a miserable but brief blip in their history.

For now, though, Hua Cheng just holds Xie Lian as tightly as he can, letting the warmth that radiates from his beloved’s body wash over him in comforting waves.

He doesn’t plan on letting go anytime soon.