Chapter Text
Hua Cheng doesn’t need to sleep, so he usually spends the nights he isn’t in the Gambler’s Den (or away searching for his god), in his bedchamber, reading. Reading and writing have been skills that he has had to teach himself, painstakingly, like most other skills he has. And while he knows that his calligraphy is quite monstrous (although the ghost residents all sing praises of it), he would like to believe that his ceaseless intake of literature across the centuries has been finally close to enough for holding a conversation that would hold His Highness’s interest.
And ah, His Highness. Hua Cheng is still getting used to the fact that his prince, his god, his beloved is finally here, in the manor that Hua Cheng built with nothing but him in mind. That he is just one door away. That he has indulged in Hua Cheng’s lowly whims and wishes, that he talked and laughed with him and gave him a massage (no, Hua Cheng definitely did not scream into his pillows about it like a little girl later that night, not at all), that he fell asleep on Hua Cheng’s bed – and the softness that His Highness’s face’s sleeping face exuded as Hua Cheng carried him to his own bed was enough to make his dead heart ache . And it might be that Hua Cheng has not read two lines from the scroll clutched in his hand throughout the night because he has been too distracted stealing glances at Xie Lian’s sleeping face through the butterfly he left in his bedchamber for security reasons. After all, Hua Cheng can admit to himself, he is scared, no, terrified, of losing His Highness again.
When he had gone to Mount Yujun where Dianxia was investing the case of the missing brides, Hua Cheng had been prepared to assist in whatever little ways he could – which he had miserably failed at over the last eight centuries. Guiding Dianxia to the Ming Guang temple that was Xuan Ji’s lair, breaking Xuan Ji’s formation, shielding his god from the filthy blood rain in the corpse forest – a laughable imitation by that useless trash – these were the least he could do. His Highness was naturally wary, and Hua Cheng had taken the whiplash of his spiritual silk as a dismissal. But he had lurked around, just in case. Just until Xie Lian could complete his mission with his useless, lying companions, and return to Heaven.
He hadn’t expected the two idiot generals to be so incompetent as to let His Highness get hurt in their presence, not like that. Xuan Ji’s curse was a misdirected thing, intended for the absent Pei Ming and reaching for Xie Lian – the closest adversary around her, and not even fully articulated. Hua Cheng had rushed so fast to catch Xie Lian as he fell with his eyes closed, he had not even bothered to properly obliterate Xuan Ji. All he had known was fury and terror. The same helpless terror from his days as a useless ghost fire. Not again. Dianxia, please. Please don’t get hurt.
Xie Lian had been unconscious for several shichen, during which Hua Cheng had inspected his meridians with spiritual power for signs of the curse, unwilling to touch his god without his permission. No curse mark, no sign of the curse left. Strange. Did it not work, whatever Xuan Ji had tried? Admittedly, curses not clearly conceived, desired or articulated could be unpredictable even for the caster; they could have anything from no to severe effect. Hua Cheng had waited at Dianxia’s side for any sign of discomfort, spotting none, and when the god had begun to stir, of course he had panicked and fled the room in an instant.
Over the time that Xie Lian has spent at Paradise Manor, Hua Cheng has kept a careful watch on His Highness for any signs of pain, any injury. But healing the cuts and bruises on the first day aside, there appears to be nothing wrong with Xie Lian. It’s a relief; but Hua Cheng knows that one can’t be too careful when it comes to Taizi Dianxia – who after all, has a track record of using extremely self-sacrificing tactics – so it is a good thing that he has been indulging Hua Cheng by staying with him. It makes protecting him a little easier, especially after he has been injured so recently.
Hua Cheng takes up another scroll, knowing that he hasn’t read a single thing from the last one. His mind plays and replays the press of Dianxia’s hands on his shoulder blades (Hua Cheng could melt right there, and it had been with difficulty that he prevented himself from succumbing to the urge to either jerk away from where Xie Lian was touching his unworthy body, or dissipate out of sheer emotional overload, or whimper and maybe cry from the pleasure and gratitude). So strong, His Highness, with those hands that could crush Hua Cheng to dust –
“CHENGZHU!!”
Of course, some idiot has to come right then to ruin his musings.
“CHENGZHU! PLEASE HELP, THE KITCHEN IS ON FIRE!”
Huh. What a way to start the morning.
He strides over lazily, shifting into the form he has been taking on of late, and slides open the door, only to have a crowd of ghosts – all temporarily employed in the kitchen – almost fall on top of him. They barely manage to avoid doing that, and instead fall to the floor in a heap.
“What?” Hua Cheng says flatly, nudging one of them with his big toe. “Get the hell up.”
The ghosts scramble to get up, and then scramble to pick up their masks, and then scramble to be the loudest in informing Hua Cheng about the situation. Hua Cheng can feel a headache coming.
“All of you, scram,” he says, and watches his subordinates hurry away. From what he has gathered from the cacophony, “Granduncle” came into the kitchen very early in the morning (he thinks he heard a ‘furen’ or two being uttered in the crowd; he must have misheard), and offered to cook breakfast (“We tried to refuse, Chengzhu, really!”) and somehow – here the narrative became too confused – the kitchen caught fire. Hua Cheng is striding into the kitchen in the next instant, the only thought in his head being that Dianxia might be hurt. Right under his watch too. He probably isn’t much better than the trash generals.
The kitchen space is – well, black. The fire seems to have been put out, thankfully, and Hua Cheng finds himself facing a crowd of ghosts huddled in a corner, and a mercifully unhurt god looking unfairly cute with soot smudges all over him.
“Scram,” he orders softly to the ghosts, which leaves him alone with Xie Lian.
“San Lang!” Xie Lian looks extremely sheepish. “I am so, so sorry! I – I have no idea how this ended up like this. This one –” he looks away, embarrassed, “this one only wanted to make his lord breakfast.”
Hua Cheng’s insides do an undecipherable number of things at “his lord”, extreme confusion and the regular feeling of being unworthy of being addressed thus winning out. He doesn’t comment on it out loud.
“Gege is the most gracious,” he says, stepping closer. “San Lang is most thankful. But gege, you should rest. There are people to make the food.”
“I know, I know,” Xie Lian sighs. “But I just – San Lang has been so kind, so generous, I simply wanted to do something in return. But – ah –” He looks down at the pot he has been holding, and the stuff in it ranges from shades of brown to ashen black, “it looks like we’ll just have to throw this away.”
Before he can do that, however, Hua Cheng is stepping right up to him, grabbing a pair of chopsticks, and bringing the food to his mouth. It tastes… interesting. A blend of sweet and salty and slightly pungent, all varying in intensity in each grain.
“San Lang!” Xie Lian yelps. “Don’t eat it, it’s burnt!”
“Only the bottom, gege,” Hua Cheng says easily. “We can just scrape that part out. Gege made congee, yes?” he adds to his god, who is staring at him, open-mouthed. “It really isn’t all that burnt.”
“I – ah, San Lang,” Xie Lian mumbles. “How – how is it?”
“Not bad,” Hua Cheng smiles. “Maybe add a little more water next time, and more salt.”
“All right,” Xie Lian nods seriously. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for your feedback.”
When, half a shichen later, god and ghost stroll out of the kitchen, there is an empty pot with a charred bottom settled on the table. Hua Cheng can see the kitchen staff huddled behind a pillar, staring. They think they are being quiet, but their (not) whispers could raise a town. Hua Cheng looks back at them, unimpressed, as he and Xie Lian walk past.
Clean it up, he mouths at them.
“YES, CHENGZHU!” they shout, much to Hua Cheng’s annoyance. Beside him, though, Xie Lian is giggling. It brings a helpless smile to Hua Cheng’s own face. In the fresh sunlight, the ring of ashes wrought in rare crystal dangles from a chain around Xie Lian’s neck, glinting. Each brush of the ring against his god’s chest brings fresh warmth to Hua Cheng’s cold body; his ashes are finally home, right where they belong. The safest place in the world.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian says suddenly, “if it is alright, can I cook for you again?”
“Dianxia!” Hua Cheng stares at him. “There is no need.”
“I know.” Xie Lian’s gaze moves away to the garden, towards which they are strolling, and beyond that, to the lake. “I – I am sorry for the accident today. I won’t burn your kitchen down again, I promise! I’ll be very careful!” He pauses and sighs. “My food isn’t very good, probably. It’s okay if you don’t like it – I won’t try again.”
“Gege! You can burn down the entire Paradise Manor if you like, it won’t be a problem. I can always build it again.”
“San Lang!” Xie Lian looks positively scandalized. “You can’t just say such things!”
“Everything in this manor is gege’s to use or destroy. It is no matter,” Hua Cheng says firmly. “And I would be honoured to have gege’s cooking, if he feels like it. I truly enjoyed today’s food. I only wanted Dianxia to be well rested.”
“I am well rested!” Xie Lian laughs. “San Lang takes such good care of me.”
Hua Cheng’s heart, which he has kept active in Xie Lian’s company, starts beating at the double. He ducks his head, embarrassed.
“But not every day,” he tells Xie Lian. “Gege still needs to rest. And he should let me assist him sometime.”
“Alright.” Xie Lian nods with a smile. “Many thanks to San Lang.”
Gazing into the distance, Xie Lian’s fingers absently toy with the ash ring. Hua Cheng shivers.
“Oh, San Lang, I have been meaning to ask,” Xie Lian says, looking him in the eye, “this ring, is this a gift? It is – ah, it is far too precious for me to possess.”
Hua Cheng nods, waving his hands in dismissal at the last comment. “Just some trinket. It is something I wanted gege to have ever since he arrived at here. Just keep it for fun.”
“San Lang!” Xie Lian laughs, a sound half incredulous, half overwhelmed. “You spoil me too much, ah!”
Hua Cheng merely smiles, tucking his arms behind his head. “Gege deserves to be spoiled,” he says simply. If he could, he would give Dianxia everything and more, for all eternity. But since it is almost absurd to imagine he would have that chance just yet, well, he will have to make the best of the time he has. His Paradise Manor, a dry, cold residence that has, somehow, been waiting like a yawning cave all these years, finally has a purpose, finally has life in it. Hua Cheng can’t contain his smile that spills onto everything as he strolls with his beloved, this morning. He is too late to care enough to pull it in when they walk by a gaggle of ghost servants; there are dull thuds of them stumbling, perhaps even falling, as the god and ghost walk by.
The world around him could burn away, and he couldn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything other than the dainty hand – calloused from the sword it once held – that now touches his own with so much patience and grace. There is not a happier man than Hua Cheng in all three realms.
***
Contrary to popular opinion, Hua Cheng does not always rule from his office at Paradise Manor or from behind the curtain at the Gambler’s Den. On some days, he takes on the form of a child to mingle with the children of Ghost City, and find out if any of them are unhappy or being bullied (the miscreant is silently brought to their rightful place not long after), and on others, he takes an unassuming shape, mingling in the crowd to learn about the gossip that floats around in the streets and corners. Admittedly, his butterflies are more than capable of spying, but this is also a way to entertain himself, an indulgence he sometimes allows himself to partake in.
But if the last few days were to be considered, well… if he were to be honest, Hua Cheng won’t leave Paradise Manor at all, not if he can help it. And why should he, when the most precious person in the world is waiting for him there? But of late, Xie Lian has somehow come to the conclusion that Hua Cheng has been neglecting his duties by keeping him company day in, day out; and so, Crimson Rain Sought Flower, the Scourge of Heaven, the Terror of Three Realms, has been kicked out of his own house.
“As grateful as I am to have San Lang’s company all these days,” Xie Lian had said, “I couldn’t bear it if my presence was stopping San Lang from governing the city as he usually does.” And when Hua Cheng had protested (with many a whine and pout and solemn promise), Xie Lian had simply said, almost sternly, “San Lang should resume his duties normally. I would never wish to hinder the functioning of Ghost City. Please, San Lang?”
And what is Hua Cheng supposed to do after that, but leave like a kicked dog, cajoled by its master with promises of petting in the evening?
Walking down the crowded lanes of Ghost City in a nondescript skin designed specifically to deflect attention, Hua Cheng steers clear of the Gambler’s Den. The chaotic, often bloody game of greed and justice is usually more than adequate entertainment, but today he has no appetite for it. His mind is full of his Crown Prince, and his steps aimless.
Five days. Five precious days he has managed to spend in His Highness’s company. Each new morning, Xie Lian’s smile shines brighter than the sun, and Hua Cheng just keeps falling deeper, deeper, so much deeper into love and devotion. Days spent at the Paradise Manor has slowly caused any remaining shyness to bleed out and away from Xie Lian; only last evening, he even suggested that they do calligraphy lessons together!
(Thankfully, even witnessing Hua Cheng’s monstrous handwriting has not apparently caused Xie Lian to recognise the tattoo on his hand; Hua Cheng wouldn’t know what to do if his obsession were to be outed like that.)
A loud wail in a front of a shop nearby causes him to snap out of his thoughts.
“Married, ah, married!! HOW WILL MY HEART TAKE IT? I WAS SAVING MYSELF FOR HIM!”
The cry is, however, treated to a wave of jeering and booing.
“Miserable hag, what good is you doing, saving yo’self for him! Like he would look at you for even a moment! Hahahaha!”
“Yer not even pretty enough for old pig Zhou here, let alone our lord!!”
“Asshole! What’s wrong with pigs??”
Ah, Hua Cheng thinks as the female ghost continues to wail, So it’s just some trash causing a ruckus.
He idly takes a step towards the stall where a small crowd has gathered, each ghost shouting their own input.
“Bet Chengzhu likes them really young and pretty,” one of them suggests. Hua Cheng raises an eyebrow. Turns out the chaos is about him.
“Who wouldn’t?” a young male ghost says with a sniff. “Not everyone has to be like us, dealing with them hussies with saggy tits!”
He is promptly thrown to the ground with a resounding smack, by the ghost Lan Chang. “Shameless bastard!” she shrieks. “Don’t you dare show up at our place again with that mouth. I’ll show you ‘saggy tit’!”
“Hey, hey, Lan Chang is starting a fight again!”
Hua Cheng steps away with a shrug. It wouldn’t do any harm for that upstart ghost to get kicked in a few delicate places, and then some more. He can trust Lan Chang with that.
The conversation, though, is still ongoing at the fringes of the fight.
“-really pretty, with such a charming face!” a female ghost is chittering to her companion.
“Never seen such a well-done skin before!” another one exclaims. “Looked more god than ghost, haha!”
“Aiyah, meimei, I don’t know whether to swoon or be jealous from your description!” their companion laughs. “Chengzhu is so lucky to have such a pretty bride!”
Hua Cheng stumbles a little. What –
“You girls are so silly!” a tentacled ghost booms. “Anyone would be lucky to have Chengzhu!”
“YES! CHENGZHU IS THE BEST!”
“CHENGZHU IS THE BEST!”
“THE BEST HUSBAND!”
"The greatest in bed!"
“Even a hundred concubines wouldn’t be enough –”
Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Hua Cheng opens his mouth, only to be distracted by two other presences that have entered the city.
Ugh. Not again.
He doesn’t have to walk very far before the idiots practically run into him. Would have run past him, even, if he had not changed his appearance in the span of a moment. Never be it said that Hua Cheng lacks a flare for the dramatic.
The way Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen scramble, faces turning pale, at the sudden appearance of the ghost king is undoubtedly satisfying.
“Long time no see, I would say,” he greets them with a smirk, E’Ming materialising in his hand, “But it really hasn’t been as long as I’d like.”
For the trash that had caused Hua Cheng to part from Xie Lian a few days earlier had been none but these two. Back then, Hua Cheng hadn’t bothered to show himself, enchanting the borders so that they had been hopelessly lost for two days at a stretch, circling the same spot before being kicked out of the realm. I didn’t think they’d be foolish enough to return this soon, he sighs.
Somehow, the trash generals appear to be as outraged as they are scared.
“Crimson Rain!” Feng Xin barks, “Let His Highness go this instant!”
“Now now,” Hua Cheng tsks, “Is that any way to greet your betters?”
Feng Xin’s face turns purple in offence, and Mu Qing steadies his sabre.
“What are your intentions? Are you holding Xie Lian hostage? You should know better –”
“Shut your shitty mouth,” Hua Cheng hisses. “He is my guest. Not that you have any right to ask.”
Around them, ghosts have begun to notice the confrontation.
“Ayee, look at that riffraff come to bother Chengzhu!”
“Milord, d’ye need us to eat ’em alive?”
“Hang them up and make them into a stew?”
Hua Cheng smiles at the heavenly officials, all teeth and no humour. “You see how eager they can get. Better act wisely.” Nevertheless, he waves the residents away to clear the ground.
“You are the one that needs wisdom,” Mu Qing snarks. “Thinking with your dick lately?”
Hua Cheng simply raises an eyebrow. “If that was supposed to be an insult, do better.” He raises E’ming. “I’m tired of standing still anyway. Fight, or leave.” With that, he launches forward.
Feng Xin and Mu Qing may be stupid, but not slow. They leap into the fight as well.
“Come now, Hua Cheng, your household matters are none of our concern,” Feng Xin says while loosing an arrow. “Just let Dianxia go.”
“What household matters?” Hua Cheng knocks the arrow aside, clashing with Mu Qing’s sabre. "And leaving Dianxia with you imbeciles? Forget it.”
“News is out that you got married,” Mu Qing sneers. “What do you need His Highness for? Bored already? Aren’t you getting too greedy, Crimson Rain? Or are you amassing a harem now –”
Before he can even register that he is moving, Hua Cheng has sidestepped Mu Qing’s blade, twisting neatly until he is inches away from the trash general, E’ming pressed to his throat. He can feel his entire body trembling with pure rage. E’ming bites; blood leaks in a thin line from the pale expanse of Mu Qing’s throat.
“I have said it once and I will say it once more, because I am feeling generous,” Hua Cheng hisses; E’Ming dives a sliver deeper into Xuan Zhen’s neck. His face is white. “Dianxia is here by his own will. There is nothing either manipulating or coercing him to stay with me. He is my honoured guest and I.” He effortlessly blocks Nan Yang’s incoming blow, “Will.” He rams an elbow into Nan Yang’s gut, his scimitar not moving even by a hair, “Not.” His butterflies swarm towards Nan Yang, shrieking, where he falls. “Tolerate. One word of slander about him.”
Feng Xin, of the two, has at least begun to recognise the fight for the loss that it already is. He has turned pale, fingers bleeding without any sign of healing. Hua Cheng doesn’t care.
“Remember,” he growls. “Remember how you two saved your hides back then, when thirty-three others died. It appears that your spoonful of wisdom too is gone now. You can say goodbye to your pathetic little lives.”
“No – I – Crimson Rain, please,” Nan Yang gasps, countless tiny cuts blooming on his skin, “Stop, stop, we give up. He – Mu Qing has always been like this – we surrender. We will just talk. Please. Let us up.”
It is only the thought of Dianxia that saves them that day. Hua Cheng has little desire to comply, but measuring the pros and cons of killing Dianxia’s useless friends (the only con is that Dianxia might be unhappy when he finds out, and that is enough to delicately outweigh the many, many pros), he slowly lowers E’Ming and silently commands the butterflies to retreat. E’Ming has been commanded to not let Xuan Zhen’s wound close just yet, and he watches with silent glee as the trash god’s face twists in pain and frustration when his spiritual power fails to heal him.
“I will count to a hundred,” he says. “That is all the time you will have.”
“Dianxia,” Feng Xin says, “How is he?”
“He has recovered from all injury that I could detect,” Hua Cheng says. “I do not think there is anything further that hurts him. He also has spiritual energy at his disposal, though far less than befits him.”
“Don’t think we trust you,” Mu Qing glowers, his voice satisfyingly grating and gurgling as he speaks. “What unspeakable grudge do you have against His Highness? You – ow!” He glowers at Feng Xin, who just pinched him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Nan Yang hisses.
“There is no way Dianxia is here on his own will. Where’s the proof? He is clearly got something against him, like he did with the rest of us! How can you trust him?”
“I don’t trust him at all!” Nan Yang whispers, as if Hua Cheng can’t hear every word they speak. “But at this point, what can we do? Isn’t your throat cut in half enough? Do you have a death wish?”
“I don’t –”
“I cannot handle this anymore, Mu Qing, look at you bleeding –”
“The countdown is at thirty,” Hua Cheng informs them pleasantly.
“We will leave on two conditions,” Feng Xin says in his normal (obnoxiously loud) voice, “first, you will inform His Highness that we –”
Mu Qing elbows him and hisses, “Nan Feng and Fu Yao.” Really, Hua Cheng has to marvel at their idiocy for still holding on to that.
“– Nan Feng and Fu Yao came looking for him. And second, you will let him go the moment he wishes to leave.”
“I don’t think you are in a position to bargain with me,” Hua Cheng says, twirling E’ming in his hand. “But for His Highness’s sake, I will agree to both.” He tilts his head a little. “Oh, look at that. Ten.”
Mu Qing’s face turns blotchy. His robes are stained an ugly red from all the blood. “You –”
“Nine.”
“If Dianxia doesn’t return soon, you –”
“Four.”
“Hey!”
“Three and two and one. Scram.”
Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing look furious and on the verge of saying something else.
“SCRAM!”
With twin glares, the trash generals finally, finally leave.
It takes Hua Cheng longer than usual to regain his composure, to kill the ugly feeling rearing up inside him. With a wave of his hand, he cleans the disgusting blood off E’Ming’s blade. Trash. How dare he imply –
But it has been twice already that he has come across this rumour. What does it even mean? Hua Cheng wonders as he appears in a wave of butterflies at Paradise Manor. He knows that he has been a subject of many, many rumours, some largely unfounded, some surprisingly close to the truth, ever since he became a Devastation rank ghost king. He has never cared to do anything about those rumours, allowing them to run their course, and stoking those that could benefit him. This one – it’s certainly one of the more outlandish ones, if not the most. He, married? Ha! He is fine with ignoring anything that concerns his own reputation – but if it involves His Highness somehow (and how dare that sweeping general imply –)…
The rumour must have spread quite far, Hua Cheng thinks, to have been heard all the way to Heaven, and was evidently started some way or the other by the idiot residents of his city. Then, has Dianxia heard it too? There’s no way he hasn’t. The thought makes Hua Cheng feel unbearably cold. Will this change what Xie Lian thinks of him? Will he be disgusted? He should –
“San Lang!”
Hua Cheng blinks at the figure of his god, resplendent against the light spilling through the doorway. But before he can articulate a greeting, his breath goes out in a sharp gasp as a body hits him with gentle force. Arms are coming around his back, there’s silky hair rubbing against his chest. Oh. Oh.
Xie Lian has come over and glomped him. Hua Cheng’s legs are suddenly so, so weak.
Before his fingers can stop twitching uselessly under Dianxia’s hold and do something useful, like return the embrace, Xie Lian is stepping back, a fiery blush colouring his skin all the way down to his collarbones.
“Hahaha, I am sorry! I overstepped – did I make San Lang uncomfortable?” Xie Lian wrings his hands. “It’s just that San Lang has been standing there for a while, and he looked upset about something, so I thought –”
Hua Cheng’s brain has finally, mercifully kick-started again by that time. “Gege,” he says, and then clears his throat to hide how raspy it sounds. “I am sorry, I was only surprised. Can San Lang ask to be comforted again?”
Xie Lian blushes to the roots of his hair, and Hua Cheng worries that he will refuse, but then he is stepping forward, opening his arms, and Hua Cheng is being enveloped in a much gentler, tentative embrace. He sighs, draping himself around Xie Lian like a limp noodle.
“Gege always has the best ideas,” Hua Cheng mumbles. “This San Lang feels so much better now.” And really, fuck all rumours; Hua Cheng has much better things to do now.
“I’m glad,” Xie Lian, says, his voice all honey and warmth; his arms tighten more securely around him. Hua Cheng thinks he could purr from how his brain is turning into a gooey warm mess.
“Gege, gege,” he croons, feeling particularly shameless, “take me to bed.” But then the implication that the words carry in them catches up with him. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he did it again, didn’t he? One act of kindness, and he became greedy, and how shameless! He freezes in Xie Lian’s embrace even as he feels the sharp intake of breath from Xie Lian, suddenly terrified to pull back and witness his god’s evident disgust. An apology is about to drop from his lips (he will grovel if needed, or if his god wants, he’ll step as far back as he is wanted), when Xie Lian steps back and stoops a little – and holy shit, is that his god’s fingers curling under his knees?? - and then Hua Cheng is being princess carried in Xie Lian’s arms.
Hua Cheng thinks he might faint. He presses his lips tightly together to swallow back a whimper.
“G-gege.”
“Forgive my forwardness,” Xie Lian says as he walks, the slightest hint of teasing in his voice, a contrast to his blushing face. “I thought San Lang wanted to be taken to bed.”
I could just stay here forever, Hua Cheng manages to not say.
In the bliss of being pampered by his beloved, Hua Cheng very conveniently forgets to tell Xie Lian anything about the trash gods, or returning to Heaven in general, until well into the evening two days later.
“Gege,” he finally says, very, very reluctantly, as the two lounge on the divan, “Would you like to return to Heaven?”
He has been showing Xie Lian little tricks with his dice, surreptitiously feeding the god his luck (and most definitely not trying to find excuses to touch His Highness, not at all); Xie Lian has been endlessly entertained, making little sounds of wonder every now and then. Hua Cheng thinks he deserves a prize for being selfless enough to bring the moment to an end with this question.
He understands, however, that this discussion is necessary; he hopes that Xie Lian knows that he is free to leave if he wants to, and not staying here out of some sense of obligation. To his surprise, though, for a second, he thinks he sees a look of disappointment on Xie Lian’s face before it is quickly replaced by the gentle calm of before.
“Would San Lang want me to?” his god asks in turn. Hua Cheng is stumped at the decision being suddenly pushed towards him. Who is he to decide things for Dianxia?
He tells him as much. “Only Dianxia can decide on whatever he chooses. I will never oppose his decisions.”
Xie Lian stares at him, wide-eyed. “San Lang… is too kind,” he says, his voice the slightest bit breathy.
“However, Dianxia should know this – the officials Nan Feng and Fu Yao,” he accompanies this with a severe eye-roll, “came to enquire after him.”
Xie Lian, for some reason, looks at him blankly. “Nan Feng and Fu Yao.”
Hah, wouldn’t it be such a good laugh if Feng Xin and Mu Qing could see Dianxia’s expression right now.
“En,” Hua Cheng says nevertheless. “I understand that Dianxia must find it highly irregular for two middle court officials to come look for him,” because really, even Dianxia must have seen through the idiots’ farce of a disguise by now, but if they are still playing at it, he might as well go on, “but, well –” Hua Cheng pauses. “their generals , Ju Yang and the Sweeping General–” Hua Cheng allows himself a wave of delight at how Xie Lian struggles to contain his smile at the titles, “are concerned about your well-being.” There. He has done more service to Feng Xin and Mu Qing and their (deservingly) broken friendship for two lifetimes and a half; now he can slice off their heads in peace the next time they meet.
Xie Lian’s lips part in shock. “Feng Xin and Mu Qing are worried about me?”
Hua Cheng still wants to lie and say no. But as horrible friends as those two have been, they came looking for Xie Lian when no one else in Heaven did, and they deserve just this small bit of generosity for that and no more. He nods.
“Oh.” Xie Lian appears lost for a few moments. “In that case – I should probably return to heaven.”
“Would gege like me to arrange for his travels? Are you in need of anything? Spiritual powers? Healing salves?” He can feel that he might end up offering a packed lunch and a new wardrobe if he doesn’t stop – which he really wants to, don’t get him wrong, but it might just sound foolish and a little too forward, so he quickly shuts up.
“San Lang is so generous,” Xie Lian says with a smile that brightens his entire face. “But I will be fine.”
“Then pray allow me to offer one last gift,” Hua Cheng says, and conjures a pair of his enchanted dice. “If gege needs me for anything, all he needs to do is roll these dice.”
“Thank you!” Xie Lian looks at them with wide eyes, “but given my luck, I’ll end up rolling only snake eyes.”
“It does not matter what Dianxia rolls. They will always take you to me, and me to you.”
A light blush paints his god’s face. Hua Cheng thinks he looks divine. “This is a precious gift. Thank you, San Lang.”
Hua Cheng knows better than to delay the inevitable, so he bids a quiet goodbye to Xie Lian the next morning. At the final moment, he takes Xie Lian’s hand, silently channelling spiritual powers to him. Of course, this doesn’t escape his god’s notice; Xie Lian only gives a little exasperated laugh, but then smiles gratefully all the same. His face is tinted a soft pink.
“If any of the trash in Heaven bothers you, just send me the word,” he jokes. “I will get rid of them for you, and burn their temples.”
“San Lang!” Xie Lian laughs, Hua Cheng likes to think he also looks a little pleased, “So unruly!”
Their laughter tapers off into soft chuckles, then to companionable silence. This is probably when Xie Lian should leave, but at that moment, neither of them moves.
“Does gege have something to say to me?” Hua Cheng enquires at the flickering hesitation alight on his god’s face. “Pray gege tell this San Lang.”
“A-ah, it’s nothing, really,” Xie Lian says bashfully. “I– had just been wondering if I could see San Lang’s true form.”
Ah, his beloved, so clever – to have discerned from that one slip in the main hall. Hua Cheng fights to hold his smile. His silence must have stretched too long, because Xie Lian says quickly:
“Ah, never mind, never mind. I was just asking, don’t take it to heart.”
But he doesn’t want to disappoint his god. He doesn’t want to fail this one request His Highness has made after all this time. And yet –
“If –If I was ugly –” he begins, looking down, struggling to articulate the centuries’ worth of self-hatred.
“San Lang?” Xie Lian says, sounding gobsmacked.
He finally meets his god’s eyes. “If my real face is ugly, would you still want to see it? If I were a monster – something disfigured, hideous – would you still want to see it?” Would you still want to be around me?
Xie Lian smiles then, softly, warmly, like the rays of the rising sun amidst a winter landscape. “I would,” he says, and oh, he sounds so firm, Hua Cheng sucks in an involuntary breath. “I do not think that there is any part of San Lang that could possibly be hideous. Besides, to be honest, the reason I want to see your real face is only because, you see, we’re already like this…”
Hua Cheng blinks, his lips twitching upwards. “Oh? Like what?”
Is it a trick of the light, or is His Highness’s face slightly pink? “Oh, you know. That we – well, we like each other, and spent all this time together, and in – the way we are to each other, we should be honest with each other, right? So it’s just like this – I will not worry about how you look. It won’t change anything between us.”
Hua Cheng really wants to kiss him then, or kneel before him and cry a little. Instead, he laughs slightly, and says, “Next time.”
Xie Lian leans a little closer. “Hm?”
“Next time I see you,” Hua Cheng promises, and his voice dips into a whisper, “I will greet you in my true form.”
Xie Lian’s eyes widen, sparkle. “Then, I look forward to it.”
As Hua Cheng smiles helplessly at Xie Lian, his god smiling back, he sees Xie Lian’s fingers twitch a little, in anticipation. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, the god raises his hands and gently places them on Hua Cheng’s cheeks.
“Be good,” he whispers, with a hint of mischief, and then he is gone, leaving Hua Cheng to stand there like the lovesick fool he is, touching his cheeks in wonder.
***
‘Black Water.’
-
‘Hey. Don’t ignore me.’
-
‘Your silence is pretty loud. Don’t think I can’t tell you’re listening.’
-
- ‘What.’
‘How is His Highness?’
- ‘Didn’t you send him off to Heaven, what, today?’
‘None of your business. Answer the question.’
- ‘He seems to be doing fine.’
‘Who is he talking to? Is anyone bothering him?’
- ‘That’s stalkerish behaviour, I hope you know that.’
‘Oh? Then why don’t we start talking about your behaviour with a certain Wind –’
- ‘He is talking to those friends of his. Thanking them for Nang Feng and whatever the other one is called. They’ll probably braid each other’s hair now. Stop bothering me.’
‘Black Water.’
- ‘Don’t you have a city to run? I am busy.’
‘You have too many clones to do your work. Shut it.’
- ‘Is this about Xie Lian again?’
‘Don’t you dare call him by his name, you –’
- ‘Ming Guang returned from whatever woman he had been chasing and has cornered him for some idle gossip. Ugh, Xie Lian just said that you treated him wonderfully, and spoiled him far more than he deserves. There, happy?’
‘…’
- ‘Oi, did you die again or something?’
‘…I’m listening.’
- ‘Ming Guang said –’ a groan sounds across the communication array between the two Supremes. ‘– never mind, I am NOT going to repeat that.’
‘Is it something against His Highness? Do I need to burn Pei Ming’s temples –?’
- ‘Calm the fuck down.’ A sigh. ‘It’s just – it isn’t offensive, don’t worry about it. Xie Lian is blushing.’
‘…’
- ‘I can hear you drinking vinegar over there.’
‘Another word about it, and I double your debt.’
- ‘Tsk. Childish.’
- ‘Oh, among other things. I demand a banquet.’