Chapter Text
Xie Lian stood and surveyed the garden with satisfaction. The gardens of Paradise Manor were truly something unrivalled by anywhere else in the world — and Xie Lian had travelled enough over the centuries that he truly felt confident in saying so.
They meandered around hillocks and lotus ponds and ancient trees with the tenderness of an embrace. Each bench and pavilion had been placed with the greatest consideration to the feng shui and to give anyone that might use them a perfect view of a breath-taking assortment of flowers, both exotic and mundane. It was designed by someone who clearly loved flowers, which, Xie Lian supposed, befitted Hua Cheng’s name.
Xie Lian had always appreciated flowers. As a prince of Xianle, a kingdom that valued fine things, he had been enchanted by the beauty that nature itself designed. That appreciation had only grown as he had ascended to godhood and then crashed back down. He had come to appreciate the simplicity of flowers, how they bloomed just as beautifully for the rich as the poor, and the gentle memories that he had come to associate with them.
(Porcelain shard memories were not always bad. They frequently hurt to grip, but a vase could not be put back together unless one was willing to take that risk. The memory of a white flower in a divine statue’s hand was not a memory he would risk losing, not when it so perfectly fit alongside every new memory he now had of Hua Cheng bringing him flowers.)
Lately he had been working in the gardens. He was no great gardener like Hua Cheng was, having never had time or inclination to learn, but now he found himself to be a willing student. He enjoyed getting to hear Hua Cheng talk at length about the things he loved, and this was letting Xie Lian exercise both his body and his senses in a pleasant, undemanding way.
Admittedly a vegetable patch was, perhaps, an odd thing to add to such a treasure, but the beans were coming up nicely and Xie Lian was already excited about what he could cook with them.
Wiping his palms on his robes, Xie Lian stood and braced himself against his walking stick and a garden statue while he patiently waited for the vertigo to pass. Because his balance was still poor, and his senses were still occasionally overwhelmed. He wasn’t sure how long that would take to heal entirely, having never had his brain damaged in such a significant way before, but little by little it was getting better. He could spend the whole day in Ghost City now and so long as he was careful he would have no greater consequence than some exhaustion that was easily cured by curling up in bed with Hua Cheng. There was no rushing this sort of thing, and he no longer felt like he had to.
He had all the time in the world after all. He had his hat back, which kept the sunlight from stabbing migraines into his eyes and helped block off part of the world, keeping part of the sights and sounds hidden until he was ready to face them. He had his walking stick, a generous gift and an important reminder, to give him the strength and independence to pursue the pleasant things in life. And of course Hua Cheng was rarely far away on the days when his balance or nausea or nightmares were worse than others.
Sure enough, he had hardly stood before he found a cool palm beneath the hand that had previously been pressed against the statue. Sometimes he couldn’t help but think that Hua Cheng got jealous of anything he touched that wasn’t him. The thought of Hua Cheng growing jealous of his own garden statue made Xie Lian chuckle.
“Why do I feel that gege is teasing me?” Hua Cheng sighed.
“Would I ever tease my San Lang?” Xie Lian asked, tipping his hat back so Hua Cheng could better see the mischief in his eyes. Rather than even trying to look put-upon, Hua Cheng just smiled at being given a better view of Xie Lian’s face, which immediately made Xie Lian want to pull the hat back down to hide his reddening cheeks.
Instead of responding though, Hua Cheng just lifted the hand he was already holding and pressed his cool lips to the back of it, so that spiritual energy sparked through him, hot and bright and quelling the faint headache he had barely noticed stirring at the base of his skull.
It wasn’t only his meridians that felt heated though. He felt like lightning had been delicately traced up his spine and he had to resist the urge to shiver as Hua Cheng lifted his head. He had to resist the urge to demand Hua Cheng not break that hot, bright point of contact so quickly. Or better yet, find a new point of contact.
It had been Xie Lian who, so long ago, had remarked that surely lip-to-lip energy transfer would be more efficient, and it seemed he had only doomed himself by that careless comment because he could no longer stop thinking about it. Actually, most of the time he wasn’t thinking about spiritual energy in any capacity when those thoughts rose unbidden to his mind — rather it was only the soft press of Hua Cheng’s lips, the ghosting of his breath, the way his body arched down to meet him…
What would it be like for Hua Cheng to not hold his hand, to not brush his lips against his fingers but to gently hold his face like something precious and brush his lips to…?
“Has gege been in the sun too long? You’re looking very red,” Hua Cheng remarked, but no matter how hard Xie Lian stared at him he couldn’t see any hint that Huan Cheng was teasing him. For the world he seemed to be entirely sincere in asking that. Xie Lian wanted to groan. He wanted, desperately, for Hua Cheng to never guess what was plaguing his mind. And conversely, he desperately wanted Hua Cheng to know so that he might make this thought a reality, as he seemed to do with every one of Xie Lian’s idle whims.
The problem was Xie Lian suspected that even if Hua Cheng could guess at his feelings that he would hesitate to initiate. Many things he did without the slightest prompting, simply because he anticipated that Xie Lian might like it. But there were other things, especially anything regarding intimacy, that Hua Cheng shied away from without a very explicit request from Xie Lian. It was Xie Lian who had first taken his arm, who had first coaxed him into his bed, and, he feared, the one who would have to first suggest this too, if he truly wanted it.
(And there too was a problem: he had spent more than one night tied up in knots over whether this was something he wanted. Could want. He cultivation hardly stopped it anymore and yet. He wanted to kiss Hua Cheng. He wanted to be kissed by Hua Cheng. He wanted to hold and be held, wanted to be wrapped up and protected and cherished. And yet what came next? Xie Lian didn’t know.)
(He knew too well.)
Sometimes he thought there was nothing he wanted more. Sometimes he couldn’t think of anything that disgusted him more.
The rest of the time it hardly seemed to matter one way or another, not when what he really wanted to do was lie in their bed and curl around each other and learn what it meant to kiss Hua Cheng. Whether or not he ever had any interest in what might come next, surely it was enough to simply kiss in the way they did all things together: slow and thorough and with the contented languor of people who had all the time in the world to explore a new interest.
Could it hurt to ask? Out of all the horrible things Xie Lian had confessed to Hua Cheng, this was surely one of the most innocuous. To ask for a kiss. Just to see what it was like. To try it. Like they had tried sparring with staves together. Like they had tried drinking together until they were both ridiculous puddles on the floor of Xie Lian’s room. Good or bad, worth repeating or not, did it hurt to try?
“ San Lang, will you kiss me? ” It would be easy to ask. Out here like this, with Hua Cheng’s qi below his skin and the sun on his back and dirt beneath his nails and the taste of fresh, raw green beans in his mouth, it felt natural, perfect.
And yet it wasn’t. Not quite yet. Not with one lingering shadow that sometimes stretched across Xie Lian’s mind, twisting any of his more pleasant fantasies into something ugly and vulgar and sickening. And while he knew that was not a wound that could heal overnight, he also knew that it was time to lance it, let it bleed clean.
“Are you finished in the garden?” Hua Cheng asked.
“Hm, not yet, but I think I just want to sit and rest for a few minutes.” He had been moving up and down a lot, tending to weeds and lines of plants, and even with Hua Cheng’s qi he could feel the first, faint whispers of the exertion beginning to affect him. If he rested now it would disappear in less than a kè and trouble him no more.
“As long as you’re here though, there’s something I’ve been thinking about,” he added as they walked arm in arm towards a stone bench by a pleasantly burbling stream.
“Oh?” said Hua Cheng,
“Yes. I was wondering if that man is still alive.”
The words came much easier now. It still wasn’t easy , exactly, and some days were better than others when it came to thinking about those memories, but it was easier. And that was something.
That was a lot.
Hua Cheng’s face darkened. They had never directly addressed this; Xie Lian had never pressed, had never wanted to, and Hua Cheng had never admitted to anything. But Xie Lian knew he wouldn’t lie. He was content with whatever answer he got.
“He is.”
Xie Lian nodded, considering the way it made his stomach twist and fear roll up his spine. He could acknowledge that those reactions were both unnecessary — that his circumstances now were very different — but that they were there nonetheless. He felt Ruoye nudge his wrist comfortingly from beneath his robes.
“I think it’s time to let him go.”
Hua Cheng’s frown deepened, but he said nothing.
“I don’t think he belongs here,” continued Xie Lian, as he leaned against Hua Cheng and fidgeted idly with the ring around his neck, its surface smooth and cool between his fingers. “I’m happy here. I don’t think something like that belongs in a place where I’m happy. Is that selfish?”
“Never,” said Hua Cheng immediately. “But if gege just wants that filth gone, there’s other ways to do it. I can make sure he never comes near gege, or anyone, ever again.”
“Am I right in thinking that San Lang’s hospitality has made it improbable that he could ever attempt something like this again?”
Hua Cheng made a dark, satisfied noise somewhere deep in his throat. It was not a kind smile on his face, but Xie Lian found himself comforted regardless.
“I don’t need him here anymore,” said Xie Lian. Because somehow, he thought he may have needed him here before. After all, he had never actually told Hua Cheng to get rid of him, despite knowing that it was likely that the Ghost King was detaining him somewhere nearby. He could have. But he hadn’t. There was something to be said for knowing that your greatest nightmare was contained somewhere dark and impenetrable and near at hand. But that was the blood on the edges of his porcelain shard memories, and it was no longer comforting to stare at that blood and remind himself of the dangers. He was trying to wipe them clean so he could repair it.
“So gege wants me to just release him?” Hua Cheng asked, not sounding happy about this at all.
Xie Lian considered that.
“He also hurt San Lang. I know what I want, but San Lang also deserves what he wants. I won’t tell San Lan how to conduct his affairs. I would like him gone, you may choose how you wish to go about that.”
“Gege is very generous to this San Lang.”
Xie Lian smiled up at him. That was his San Lang. Never pushing, never insisting that Xie Lian should give more than he wanted, or feel differently than he did. Anything that Xie Lian offered him, he loved and respected and held as a gift. In this moment it didn’t feel like a single thing in this world mattered other than this happiness, especially knowing that the dark spot somewhere beneath their feet would soon be removed entirely. He leaned closer, content and safe and entirely too affectionate. It felt like every good thing was simply too big to contain and would burst right out of his chest.
It never hurt to ask. Hua Cheng had never, and would never, make him feel less for what he was feeling, no matter how complicated those feelings could get.
“San Lang—” he started, but did not get a chance to finish because the world exploded in white.
-
Feng Xin was not in a good mood.
That could be reasonably assumed because he was currently sitting in Mu Qing’s palace with a disagreeable cup of tea in front of him, and an even more disagreeable Mu Qing across from that.
“This is oversteeped,” Feng Xin said, in lieu of anything else.
“That’s how it’s supposed to be brewed,” Mu Qing snapped, as he did every single time for the past eight hundred years that Feng Xin had brought this up (less than you would expect, they rarely tolerated each other’s company long enough to share tea). “You just have no taste.”
“It’s practically burnt.”
“If you’re just here for a fight get the fuck out, unlike you I have things I could be doing!”
Feng Xin sat and stewed (like the tea leaves) but didn’t get up. He took a sip of the tea. Across from him Mu Qing did the same, expression just as irate. Somewhere to the side a very nervous Middle Court Official who was responsible for the tea service was shifting and likely praying without hope that things would go smoothly while he was waiting on the Generals.
Mostly Feng Xin and Mu Qing managed to survive sharing the south by actively avoiding one another unless strictly necessary. Unfortunately, it had recently become upsettingly necessary, and the nature of that necessity had them both on edge. Anything that involved Crimson Rain Sought Flower was liable to do that.
(Anything that involved Xie Lian was liable to do that.)
Feng Xin hadn’t heard a peep about Xie Lian in centuries. Even the days when stories about the Banished Crown Prince might still crop up were long gone, forgotten by the turn of years, replaced by new gods and new stories. (Replaced by a lot of new gods, if you considered the killing spree Crimson Rain Sought Flower had gone on.) Xie Lian was presumably still alive, by the virtue of his banishment, but Feng Xin knew no more than that. (He definitely didn’t try to learn more. The name of his former prince — his former friend — definitely did not still trouble him.)
And then, suddenly, a new rumour. For the first time in centuries. He hadn’t even been listening for it.
A lie, surely. Feng Xin had heard it entirely by chance, when he had been dealing with a haunting in his territory. A group of ghosts were doing some sort of business along a trade road on moonlit nights, luring lonely, desperate mortals into grim deals. The ghost merchants chattered and gossiped amongst each other while they waited for mortal prey; Feng Xin hadn’t paid their idle gossip much mind when he had first been staking out the area. Not until suddenly he did.
An undying cultivator in white, was what the ghosts had been talking about.
(That could be anyone. White was common for cultivators, and a cultivator could be strong and hardy without actually being immortal, the layman couldn’t always be trusted to know the difference.)
An undying cultivator in white had been gambled away in the infamous Gambler’s Den of Ghost City, won as a prize by the nefarious Hua Cheng himself. Apparently he tortured the cultivator for fun and let him be reborn anew, to satisfy his wicked urges — so claimed a ghost who swore up and down that he had a friend who had heard the screams herself.
(It could be anyone. It might not even be true, crazed rumours flocked around that Ghost King like those evil butterflies of his.)
(But the problem was, it could be anyone.)
Feng Xin had dispersed the ghosts and immediately gone to Mu Qing.
He and Mu Qing had then gotten into a brawl that had toppled a boulevard of divine statues because Mu Qing had mocked him for not having the sense of keeping a ghost alive for questioning and Feng Xin had been piqued at having his actions judged so carelessly — Mu Qing hadn’t been there, he couldn’t understand what such an unexpected rumour had done to him! Ultimately though they had both agreed there could be no substance to that rumour. There were as many rumours about the misdealings of Hua Cheng’s gambling hall as there were ghosts who frequented it. It was certainly nothing, and even if it was something an undying cultivator in white could be anyone.
(It could be anyone.)
The next time he and Mu Qing had met they had also gotten into a fight because they had both run into each other in disguise, attempting to snoop around the edges of Ghost City. That had gotten them quickly evicted and they had continued their fight out of general annoyance at the other ruining their plan. So they had gone their separate ways to investigate ghost realm rumours in their own territories, agreeing to meet in a fortnight.
Finding any sort of rumour had been shockingly hard. Ghosts either truly did not know anything, or were being tight-lipped about it, or else it seemed mixed up with the myriad of other rumours. Oh, did they mean the troupe of beautiful dancing women that Hua Cheng had allegedly won and kept like living statues? Oh did they mean the murderous ghosts that Hua Cheng allegedly kept on leashes like dogs and released on his enemies? Oh, did you mean the entire cultivator sect that tried to attack Ghost City and had been wiped out on the spot?
It was a waste of time. It could be anyone. It might not even be true. And if it wasn’t true and if it was anyone then surely it was the affair of ghosts and not that of two busy gods.
(But it could be anyone.)
(The ghost had said that Hua Cheng would torture him for fun, and wait for the cultivator’s undying body to mend itself.)
Mu Qing had been the one to actually learn more information and that still irked Feng Xin. He had picked away at a thread of rumours that had finally led him to the house of a wealthy silk merchant who was said to have gambled with ghosts to grow his fortune. His neighbours seemed to eye him with distrust and the ghost that had shared the information had spat after speaking his name. Mu Qing had the tact of a sledgehammer in Feng Xin’s opinion but had apparently managed to draw the man’s secrets out of him by plying him with drink, Mu Qing himself being well used to making it look like he was drinking while he wasn’t. Did he know a white-robed cultivator who was said to be unkillable? One who was won by Crimson Rain Sought Flower?
Not only did he know who he was talking about, he had been at the very table.
The story the merchant had shared, if it was true and not the work of drunken exaggeration, was chilling.
(It could be anyone.)
(Anyone who was described as having the same sort of hair as Xie Lian, with the same ubiquitous silk band, with the same lousy luck…)
The undying cultivator had filthy and beaten. He had been gambled against Hua Cheng, who had naturally won. According to the merchant, Hua Cheng had then had the gambler dragged away and had cleared the room to make use of his new prize in peace. He had apparently said more about the cultivator, but Mu Qing refused to go into detail. Feng Xing would normally press, except the horror and outrage on Mu Qing’s face somehow stilled his tongue. Something twisted in his stomach and told him didn’t want to know.
There had been no word of anyone seeing the cultivator since. Mu Qing and Feng Xin could corroborate that at least, since this was the most information they could find.
It wasn’t much to go on. It could be anyone.
Except Crimson Rain Sought Flower had some sort of strange grudge against the two of them. Neither had so much as spoken to Xie Lian since their parting of ways some eight centuries ago, but their histories together weren’t exactly a secret — if anything, it was integral to both of their ascension stories. Surely Hua Cheng wouldn’t intentionally seek out Xie Lian just to act on some vendetta he had against them, would he? That would be too far, too much, even for a ghost, surely?
Surely it was, they had told each other. That cultivator could have been anyone, and surely Hua Cheng would have never drawn any sort of connection between them. Surely.
And yet they had both approached Ghost City once more, this time united in purpose.
They hadn’t lasted much longer that time, though instead of being ousted by annoyed ghosts Crimson Rain himself had descended on them, demon sword as malevolent as it ever was. Even in the fight they had done their best to ascertain if anything was different, if the rumours could be true, if Hua Cheng realised what he may or may not possess. Yet his temper was no different than it ever was — acerbic and cruel, but giving no hint that he had some sort of leverage over them. They had simply fought until he and Mu Qin had beat a tactical retreat.
Surely if there was any grounds to these rumours, he would have said something. Rubbed it in their faces. Gloated. It wasn’t like Crimson Rain was subtle. Surely.
And yet here Feng Xin sat, drinking Mu Qing’s lousy tea and still dwelling on matters.
“If we could just find him somewhere else…” Mu Qing was saying. “Then we’d know this is all bullshit.”
“No one’s caught a glimpse of him in eight hundred years, why would now be any different?” Feng Xin demanded.
“Well it’s not like we were looking before.”
Feng Xin had to drink more shitty tea to keep from snarling. He hated Mu Qing’s tone. So dismissive. Maybe he hadn’t been looking, maybe he didn’t care, he had made his feelings perfectly clear centuries ago, but that didn’t mean—! Not to say Feng Xin had been looking, per se, but he had at least kept his ears open. He had thought about him. He cared.
“If that’s how you feel then you can just go back to your prayers and I’ll look into it,” said Feng Xin, aware he was unable to keep the resentment from his voice.
“Oh and you think you’ll do such a good job?”
“Better than you!”
“Then what the fuck are you doing wasting my time?” Mu Qing snapped. “Go back to your own palace and get out of my face!”
Feng Xin knew that this was yet another failed meeting, just like every one they had tried to have since being chased out of Ghost City liked beaten dogs, but he just couldn’t manage to modulate his temper.
“I will then!” he said, standing up sharply. “I’ve wasted enough time trying to talk sense into you! I’ll look into things myself! And I’ll have some proper tea while I do it!”
Mu Qing was already surging to his own feet — tea cup in hand, looking like he was preparing to launch it at Feng Xin’s head while the Middle Court Official scurried for cover — but he didn’t get a chance to offer a rebuttal before the floor suddenly surged beneath their feet.
“My lords!” the poor Middle Court Official cried, clearly thinking it was the gods’ wrath causing the tremors. But as the tolling of a bell filled the sky and the tremors continued and worsened, forcing even two ancient martial gods like Mu Qing and Feng Xin to lurch towards the walls for something to hold, it was very clear that this was neither of their doing.
This was an ascension.
And a truly unparalleled one at that, Feng Xin thought with some dismay as he watched his own palace crumble in the distance from one of Mu Qing’s windows. So much for drinking his own tea.
-
Xie Lian lay still on the ground, eyes squeezed shut, because he knew exactly what sort of pain to expect the moment he opened them. It felt like a bell was thundering his head, his headache immediate and thunderous, and if he opened his eyes everything would certainly be swimming.
Whatever had just happened, he would prefer not to throw up.
He was vaguely aware of voices above him, but it was hard to make sense of them past the pain and the ringing.
Actually, the ringing wasn’t just in his head. It was a bell. Or it had been a bell, until there was suddenly a resounding CLANG that suggested that whatever bell had been ringing, it had managed to ring itself straight to the ground.
Xie Lian could sympathise as he pressed himself more firmly against the ground and his head clang-clang-clanged in a screaming rhythm.
(He hadn’t had an attack this bad in weeks — what in the world had happened? And why was he alone? Why was there no cool, stable hand touching his back yet, guiding and supporting and helping? Why did he feel like he was curling up on tiles beneath a table while people spoke and rolled dice above his head?)
(Where was San Lang? Where was San Lang? )
(And where was he?)
Finding no other way around it, he carefully opened an eye and saw such a bright blue sky above him that it made his eyes water in pain and he immediately reached up to pull his hat more firmly down over his eyes. Before he did so he vaguely caught sight of faces peering down at him but none of them were his San Lang and that was what really mattered. If Hua Cheng had been here with him, then he certainly wouldn’t be on the ground any longer. He would have been pulled into a comfortable lap to recover.
In fact, he wasn’t in the gardens of Paradise Manor at all. He knew that without a doubt, he knew the feel of the manor, the smell, the sounds — which certainly didn’t involve any bells or staring faces. He wasn’t even in the Ghost City. If anything, he seemed to be in a crater.
And then a dark shadow loomed over him. And a hot hand touched his arm.
His reaction was immediate and visceral. He yanked his arm back and jerked as far away as his prone position would allow, eyes immediately flying open in terror.
Someone alive, someone with hot, living hands, had grabbed him. He was on the ground and in pain and alone and someone was grabbing him —
“Please don’t throw me again.”
Xie Lian sat frozen, just trying to breathe past the swell of panic ( past the nail ) as he strained to make sense of the world around him.
The voices overhead had gotten louder, but what mattered was the voice in front of him. Someone had slid down into his crater with him. It was an unfamiliar man in dark robes — this did not do a lot to quell Xie Lian’s terror, not when he was already in a state like this, but it could be worse.
(It could be a mortal labourer with a hammer and a nail.)
The other man made no effort to step closer to him though, if anything he had moved away after Xie Lian’s violent reaction. He just stood there and stared at him with plain, dark eyes. And then, right before him, the eyes changed. Suddenly it wasn’t a normal pair of human eyes but something deeper, darker, a spark gleaming from an untold depth…
Those were familiar eyes even as they returned to their previous state.
“Ming-xiong! Who is it? Who’s ascended?”
He Xuan stared at him from a stranger’s face and held out a hand.
This time, when Xie Lian took it, the hand was cold and dead to the touch. Not as good as Hua Cheng’s hands, but familiar again even if the shape was new. Dazedly, Xie Lian let himself be pulled upright. He Xuan stood there, waiting for Xie Lian to find his balance before helping him out of the crater. The crater that he had made. With a third ascension.
Xie Lian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Looking around, Xie Lian kept his hat pulled low to try to mitigate the throbbing headache. It helped to cut out the burning sun, the overwhelming crowds, and glamour of the space he now occupied. Palaces clustered the street, and everything gleamed with fine gold and jewels, everything clamouring for attention. The Upper Court had always been like that. He hadn’t realised how little he had missed it until he compared it to the gentle cream sheets and faint waft of flowers that made up his room in Paradise Manor.
His walking stick was likely somewhere back in the gardens, so he let himself lean against He Xuan and closed his eyes. He Xuan was used to him by now, and he didn’t have the energy to feel self-conscious, even though he was beginning to identify the noise around him as the voices of gawking gods. He already felt exhausted by it all. He wondered how quickly he could get banished this time and get back to his nice, soft bed in his nice, dark room with his nice, cool Ghost King.
All around him were exclamations as people caught sight of him and some began to recognize him. And then the yelling really took off.
“Are you really the Crown Prince of Xianle?” someone asked, and suddenly a new face was filling Xie Lian’s vision, peering at him from beneath the brim of his hat.
Whoever this energetic god was she wasn’t one that Xie Lian had met before, but her tone at least seemed more good-natured than some of the other voices that were crying out about the Laughingstock ascending once again and the mess he had caused on the way up.
“...Yes. I’m sorry, who are you? It’s been a while since I’ve met any gods…” That and he was having a hard time even thinking about what he should be doing next, never mind remembering faces from centuries ago.
“Sorry, sorry, how rude of me! You don’t recognize me from my temples? Maybe you’d know my male form. I’m Shi Qingxuan, the Wind Master!” She said this with a flourish, snapping her fan open and showing off its inscription.
Xie Lian didn’t have the heart to say he really had never heard of the new Wind Master or that he didn’t bother visiting any temple other than to occasionally get out of the rain, so he chose to just smile and say nothing at all. This didn’t seem to deter the Wind Master, who continued to chatter happily.
“How do you know Ming-xiong? He’s not normally very friendly with anyone, you must be special!”
“Ah…” said Xie Lian.
Spy , Hua Cheng had said. Somehow Xie Lian suspected that mentioning that he and “Ming-xiong” frequently dined together in Crimson Rain Sought Flower’s domain was probably not a good choice.
“I ran across him when I was dealing with things in the mortal realm,” lied He Xuan blandly. “He’s not special, he just doesn’t talk as much as you.”
“Ming-xiong, so mean!”
He Xuan looked away from Shi Qingxuan’s dramatics to glance at Xie Lian and added, “A mutual friend wants to know why you haven’t been in contact lately.”
“A mutual friend ? Ming-xiong, you’ve been holding out on me! Who else do you know?”
Xie Lian was also confused by this statement, until realisation struck. Hua Cheng! He must be beside himself! With his head already feeling so muddled and sore he really hadn’t noticed the faint presence at the back of his mind that indicated that someone was trying to contact his personal array.
Gege! came Hua Cheng’s voice as soon as he allowed the connection. Are you alright?
Yes, yes, I’m fine, I’ve just ascended again.
Naturally , said Hua Cheng who seemed rather smug about it. But does gege want me to come and fetch him?
Come and fetch him? Xie Lian had to swallow laughter at the thought, because he had no doubt that Hua Cheng would. Based on all the stories Xie Lian had heard about Crimson Rain Sought Flower, he couldn’t imagine that Hua Cheng turning up in the middle of the Grand Boulevard would go over well. No matter how desperately he wanted Hua Cheng next to him, he really wasn’t sure he had the energy to deal with the repercussions of that. Probably easier to just let things play out naturally.
Don’t worry about it, I’ll come down soon. I’ve run into He Xuan, he’s giving me a hand… Xie Lian had a suspicion that Hua Cheng had something to do with that. …So, when you mentioned that he was a spy…?
Playing at being the Earth Master, Ming Yi, Hua Cheng said, amusement clear in his voice. He’s undercover, so try not to give him away. Or do, if he annoys you.
Xie Lian was not about to sort through all that right now, not when he had what felt like the entire Upper Court yelling around him and a headache worse than he’d had in weeks ringing in his head. He would have to ask He Xuan about it the next time he was over for tea.
For the time being, his name was being called by a rather exasperated looking civil god, who was marching forward with a severe expression.
“Ah, here comes Ling Wen,” said Shi Qingxuan. “I bet she’s been having Officials complain to her about all the tremors and the bell and the palace and everything. She’s sure to be in a bad mood.”
“What bell? What palace?” asked Xie Lian, who really wasn’t keeping up.
Shi Qingxuan waved her fan dismissively, looking cheerful about the whole thing. “Don’t worry about it, don’t worry about it. It was all amusing, so it hardly matters. My brother is good friends with her, so I’m sure I can get him to talk her into giving you a break.”
Xie Lian was tempted to ask what sort of break he might need — because he wasn’t the sort to ever get a break — but Ling Wen was already there and beginning to tell Xie Lian all about his new debt.
What a day. And it just kept going. It was almost a relief when the summons came to approach the Palace of Divine Might. It gave him an excuse to step away from Ling Wen, who promised to see to things the best she could and connect him to the communal array again. From there the crowd only seemed to grow. He may as well be a filthy, bloody pile of desecrated robes at the gambling hall dais again, for all the attention he was attracting. It wasn’t like he was new or exciting, and it wasn’t like he would be here long so he couldn’t see what the fuss was all about.
He Xuan didn’t even bother asking if Xie Lian wanted him to come with him to the Palace of Divine Might, and Xie Lian was grateful for that. Lately Xie Lian had been having more good days than bad, but he still rarely went anywhere without his walking stick — or Hua Cheng. If he tried to walk along the wide open, sprawling boulevard to the Palace of Divine Might on his own he would certainly collapse within a few steps.
Having He Xuan at his side also gave him an excuse to turn his head, the wide brim of his hat blocking his vision so he could pretend he didn’t see the one particular pair of faces staring at him with the rest of the crowd. So Feng Xin and Mu Qing were both in the Upper Court right now. At a glance they seemed well. He was glad, he would enjoy hearing about how godhood was treating them. However he was also grateful not to have to speak to them, not right now. They were both certainly used to seeing him weak and pathetic, but he wasn’t sure he could handle seeing his current state reflected in their eyes right now.
“I’ll come too,” Shi Qingxuan declared, inviting herself along carelessly. The gesture was likely more out of loyalty to “Ming Yi” or possibly for the sake of the entertainment, but Xie Lian found she was rather pleasant company, at least compared to most of the other Heavenly Officials he had seen today.
When she reached for Xie Lian’s other arm though — almost certainly a gesture meant to be helpful and friendly, mimicking the posture of He Xuan on his other side — He Xuan stopped walking and stared at her.
“Don’t touch without asking, you aren’t a child.”
Shi Qingxuan froze, hand hovering above Xie Lian’s robes. He hadn’t flinched away, but it was only because he had seen her intentions and had forcefully stilled himself in preparation. He could practically feel the heat radiating from her.
“Sorry,” she said, quickly tucking her hands in her sleeves. She looked sincere, if confused.
“It’s alright,” Xie Lian said quickly.
“It’s not,” He Xuan said dryly as they began walking once more. “Trust me. I made that mistake, and got thrown through a door for my trouble. That’s how I learnt he was a banished martial god.”
Shi Qingxuan stared and then burst into laughter, the awkwardness immediately dissolving. Xie Lian found himself chuckling despite himself, mostly because the description was entirely accurate while also, somehow, creating a perfect lie to explain how the Earth Master Ming Yi came to meet the Twice-Banished Laughingstock.
“Then I’ll just have to hold Ming-xiong’s hand instead,” Shi Qingxuan said, skipping over to He Xuan’s other side and looping her arms around his free arm.
He Xuan huffed unhappily but did not attempt to dislodge the Wind Master. They certainly made quite a sight, parading towards the palace like this but it could have been so much worse. He could have been alone. By the time they stepped out of the glaring sun (the glaring eyes) and onto the echoing tiles of the Palace of Divine Might, Xie Lian was actually feeling somewhat heartened. He would be able to handle this, and then go home, and it would be nothing but an amusing anecdote for him and Hua Cheng to laugh about.
“Xianle, I see you’ve returned.”
Jun Wu’s voice was warm and pleasant, so at least that was one thing that hadn’t changed. Given the nature of his second banishment, Xie Lian hadn’t been sure how he would be received, but the Heavenly Emperor seemed pleased enough to see him as he entered the Palace of Divine Might. Indeed, as he stepped forward he reached out an affectionate hand to tilt Xie Lian’s hat back, to better see him as he smiled down at him.
Xie Lian smiled back, feeling somewhat awkward about the whole thing even in the light of the Emperor’s good humour. The feeling of his hat dropping lightly against his back, string pressing inoffensively against his neck, sent a prickle up his skin that he ignored.
Glancing over at He Xuan, Jun Wu added, “Earth Master, it’s uncommon to see you here.”
“We’re just helping out,” said Shi Qingxuan breezily.
When He Xuan spoke, it was somewhat stilted and appropriately deferential, “His Highness has been unwell.”
Jun Wu’s eyes lingered at the place where Xie Lian’s arms were looped around He Xuan’s elbow. “How generous of you. You may go now, I will see to Xianle’s well-being from here. I wish to speak with him about resolving this issue of merits…”
He Xuan’s arm hesitated only a moment before withdrawing, giving Xie Lian time to ensure he had his own balance before he was suddenly standing on his own in the cavernous hall. The Earth Master and Wind Master both bowed to the Emperor and nodded to Xie Lian before finally moving away. As He Xuan stepped back, Jun Wu reached out to take his place, tucking Xie Lian’s arm firmly against his own.
It was very considerate. He had seen how Xie Lian was in need of assistance. It was fine, of course, because of all the people for Xie Lian to be with, Jun Wu was a reliable one. Safe.
This is what his sensible brain thought, at least. As he had learnt, rational thought did not always overrule irrational fear, especially not when Xie Lian was already in a disoriented state. Though it really didn’t account for the way Xie Lian’s skin crawled when he felt Jun Wu’s hand grab him and maneuver him. It didn’t hurt! It was nothing but gentle and kind! Even more so than He Xuan often was, really! Certainly the unease was just because Jun Wu’s hands were so hot, whereas He Xuan had let his body temperature drop back down when he’d realised Xie Lian’s discomfort.
“You’ll be fine sitting on your own?” Jun Wu asked indulgently, to which Xie Lian nodded.
“Of course, it’s really not that bad. My ascension just made me a bit dizzy, I’m afraid.”
Jun Wu acknowledged this with a nod, and began to lead Xie Lian across the hall. When they reached the head of the room though, Jun Wu didn’t immediately let go, not immediately at least. He released Xie Lian’s arms from his own, but he kept a hold of his hands. Xie Lian blinked up at him, not sure what to make of this strange behaviour.
“I am glad to hear you are not badly hurt. Later, when we have more time, you will have to tell me what exactly happened to injure you in such a way.” One of Jun Wu’s thumbs caressed the back of Xie Lian’s hands. He leaned closer, like he was whispering a secret, hot breath brushing against Xie Lian’s ear.
Xie Lian’s mouth was unaccountably dry. It was funny, he hadn’t been feeling thirsty before, but now he was entirely parched. And wasn’t that a strange thing to be thinking about right now? Except that must be why he was feeling so strange, like he wasn’t quite fitting in his body properly — he knew Jun Wun was still holding his hands, his thumb still tracing the back of one hand, but he couldn’t quite feel it? He was too distracted by his dry mouth. And from the way the beads of Jun Wu’s hair piece moved.
“Do you know,” Jun Wu said, voice low and warm against his ear, “that you are quite covered in ghost qi, Xianle?” His thumb stroked his hand again, the very place Hua Cheng’s lips had been… could it have really been less than a sichen ago? “You will have to give me a full account, because of course if a ghost was tormenting you, you know I would move to eliminate it for you.”
Xie Lian swallowed. His mouth really was too dry. “Yes.”
Jun Wu pulled back fully, expression one of gentle concern. He gave Xie Lian’s hand a final pat before stepping back to sit on his throne. Xie Lian wasn’t entirely aware of sinking to his own knees, only that suddenly cool tile was beneath him and he felt grateful for their cool stability beneath his knees. Again, Xie Lian suppressed the prickle down his spine. He had developed bad associations with people watching him from above, and had grown too used to Hua Cheng ensuring they were always at the same level. Of course he felt unsettled, being on his own after growing so dependent on his San Lang, really this was probably a good step back into the real world beyond the sheltering walls of Paradise Manor.
“Now, Xianle, about your debt. I realise without temples there is really no way for you to earn those merits, so I thought you may appreciate a job you could take care of in my territory… of course whatever merits it earns will be entirely your own…”
-
Which was how, in a nutshell, Xie Lian had ended up here in this teashop. Really, Jun Wu’s offer had been too generous. It was obvious he was just doing Xie Lian a favour while pretending it was Xie Lian who was helping him .
One way or another, as he explained to Hua Cheng over the array, he really would prefer to leave the Heavenly Capital without any debts if he could manage it. Owing people — especially considering whose palace he had destroyed — would only be more trouble in the long run.
So he had intended to descend quickly and try to sort out the matter as efficiently as possible. He hadn’t expected both He Xuan and Shi Qingxuan to descend with him. Xie Lian had a sneaky suspicion that He Xuan was lowering his own debt by volunteering to do so, but Shi Qingxuan genuinely just seemed to want to help out. It proved to be useful too, because Xie Lian had immediately tripped on a cloud and would have landed who-knew-where if it hadn’t been for the Wind Master and her fan catching him. He still landed in a heap, but at least now he wouldn’t be forced to march across a mountain while disoriented and weak.
“You really do have terrible luck,” Shi Qingxuan had remarked. “Do you need help up?”
Xie Lian had laughed resignedly and reached out a hand to accept the help back to his feet.
To think this morning he had been feeling dizzy from lifting his head up and down while gardening. That had nothing on the ascent and descent from Heaven, and he wasn’t entirely sure the world was ever going to stop spinning again. He really wanted a nap against Hua Cheng about now. He would like to lie in the dark and eat fruit until the dizziness and pain stopped. But he had a job to do.
It was a job, unfortunately, that was becoming more complicated by the moment. Or at least more crowded, which generally amounted to the same thing. The table was already full with Xie Lian, He Xuan, and Shi Qingxuan at it, and it didn’t get better when two Middle Court Officials appeared, introducing themselves as Fu Yao and Nan Feng who had apparently volunteered to help.
Their arrival was unexpected enough that it actually got He Xuan, who had been making quick work of the snacks Shi Qingxuan had ordered, to stop and stare at them.
“Don’t worry about it, you can go back to your generals,” said Shi Qingxuan. “Surely three Upper Court Officials can handle one ghostly bridegroom!”
The two Middle Court Officials did not seem to agree though, both insisting that they were supposed to be here and were definitely expected to help.
“We have this covered, there’s no need to trouble Lord Earth Master or Lord Wind Master,” said the one calling himself Fu Yao. “We will aid His Highness.”
“If it’s too crowded, you can always tell that one to scram,” Nan Feng offered, gesturing to Fu Yao.
“Ling Wen-zhenjun said that all willing volunteers are welcome, so on what grounds are you telling me to scram?” Fu Yao snapped back.
Xie Lian could feel a well worn argument brewing and he massaged his temples as discreetly as he could. His hat still sat against his back and he was tempted to pull it back on, only it would feel rude while sitting at this cramped table inside the tea shop. But if he wasn’t careful, his vision was going to start dissolving at the edges and then it really would be all over.
“Please, let’s not argue,” said Xie Lian. “Of course all are welcome, thank you for volunteering. The more there are, surely the quicker we will be able to solve this mystery and help the locals.”
This seemed to be enough to draw the two Middle Court Officials into a temporary truce, but it made He Xuan heave a sigh. “This is going to get crowded,” he intoned.
“What do you mean ‘going’?” huffed Fu Yao with a roll of his eyes. “It already is.”
Xie Lian didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. There was no way for Fu Yao or Nan Feng to know, of course, that even now there was a Ghost King strolling around the mountain outside of town, beginning to sniff out the mystery. He had been there ever since Xie Lian had told him where his mission would be taking place. Things were definitely only going to get more crowded, not less.
It was for the best though, he doubted the Officials would appreciate Hua Cheng’s ideas about how to make things less crowded.
“Let’s see what we can learn around town,” Xie Lian suggested, rising and reaching for He Xuan’s arm.
Nan Feng and Fu Yao’s eyes were boring into him. Or, more specifically, at the point where his arms touched He Xuan’s.
“What are— what is His Highness doing?” Nan Feng finally worked up the nerve to ask.
“Hm? Oh, my balance isn’t so good these days. Lord Earth Master doesn’t mind helping me out.”
Fu Yao opened his mouth to say something, but Shi Qingxuan got there first. “You’re not going to make a problem out of that, are you?” she demanded, apparently the sort to decide on friendships and loyalties very quickly.
Both Middle Court Officials insisted they wouldn’t, but there was no hiding the way they stared at Xie Lian the entire time he walked about, pace slow and unsteady and very familiar in the way he let his weight rest against He Xuan. There was nothing for it though, his head wasn’t likely to get better until he caught a chance to sleep off the day’s overstimulation and he would rather lean against He Xuan and go slowly than end up on his knees and throwing up because the pain had gotten too serious for even him to ignore.
Maybe they should find a temple to stay at for the night…
-
Finding a temple of Nan Yang had been the easiest part, everything else about it had been a fuss. Normally the walk wouldn’t have bothered Xie Lian but he was worn down and the group was noisy. He Xuan might have been pleasant company in this situation if they had been on their own as he was content with silence, but the Middle Court Officials seemed to constantly have something to say to each other, and Shi Qingxuan seemed to readily let herself get drawn into any conversation. Fortunately once they had arrived at the temple, Shi Qingxuan had been able to handle the female worshipper with the ripped skirt, and He Xuan had gone over the details of the case with the Middle Court Officials, his tone dry and brusque and brooking no arguments.
There had been a brief disagreement about getting food, but Xie Lian was too sore and nauseous to consider it so he begged off, declaring that he was going to turn in early. Not only would this let him finally rest his head, but it also gave him some uninterrupted time to chat with Hua Cheng through the communication array before he fell asleep. This was the longest he had gone without seeing him in a long time, and he was feeling bereft. He was certain everything would have been much better with Hua Cheng at his side for it, but there was no helping it. This way was best for everyone.
Still, the thought of curling up in Hua Cheng’s lap now, of sleeping pressed against his side so his sore head could rest against his cool chest, and the expressions that would surely draw out of Fu Yao and Nan Feng made Xie Lian chuckle softly to himself.
He fell asleep to Hua Cheng’s voice in the array, as he recounted what he had already uncovered about the old shrine hidden up the mountain. Together they started to construct a basic plan for Xie Lian to make it up the mountain so that they could finish things off efficiently; part way through Xie Lian had drifted wholly to sleep.
When the nightmare struck, it shouldn’t have been unexpected, and yet he was still unprepared. His nightmares were often a strange, unsettling mix of memories and fears, but this one felt particularly real and visceral in a way. Hot hands pressing him down, fingers digging cruelly against the nail when he flailed and fought until he cried and cried and cried and lay limp. Hot hands, hot body pressing down against his own, hot breath on his ear, his neck, against his back, robes pressed up, should be cold, the night air prickling along his skin, but the legs between his were hot, and the thickness pressing against him was hot and it was all too big, too big to be a mortal man, massive chest lying against Xie Lian and crushing the air from him like grave dirt while beads chimed above him and—
He woke on the ground in the dark. There were no butterflies lighting the air and no Ghost King at his side. He was alone on the floor in the dark and his head screamed with pain from the nail and he scrambled to his knees — too fast, too fast — and gagged. His stomach lurched and he was going to throw up. When had he eaten? The man so rarely fed him but his stomach was full and now he was going to throw up and it was going to be awful and—
“Your Highness!”
Xie Lian recoiled, swallowing convulsively, and then there was light. Someone was staring at him through the dark with a palm torch lit in his hand.
It was Nan Feng rather than Hua Cheng and it made Xie Lian almost want to weep in frustration. Suddenly it was no longer the labourer’s hut he was in, but a different hut entirely, equally wretched but which had surely disintegrated centuries ago.
“Your Highness, are you okay?” Nan Feng asked, voice pitched lower so as not to disrupt the other sleeping bodies around them.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. It was just a nightmare… sorry for waking you up.”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I was… thinking about things. This case,” Nan Feng said, staring at him with eyes that reflected the light. “Are you… You said nightmares?”
Xie Lian smiled stiffly. He did not want to talk about this. “Just nightmares. When you’ve been alive as long as I have, you collect a few.”
“I see,” Nan Feng said, just as stiffly.
For a moment there was only silence, as neither knew what to say. Xie Lian made to turn around, to wish Nan Feng a good night as he tried to go back to sleep, but at the same time Nan Feng attempted to speak.
“Your Highness seems rather ill — if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to you before your ascension? Of course… of course anything can cause an ascension. I heard it was His Highness’s prowess at cultivation that allowed him to ascend the first time. But other times it can be great or terrible feats. Those sorts of things can be hard to live through and can involve as much suffering to the god as anyone else. If Your Highness… if you were hurt and you… and…” He trailed off, clearly uncomfortable and unsure what to say next.
Xie Lian understood the feeling perfectly. “Ah, actually my ascension happened at quite a pleasant moment. Really, don’t worry about it! The injury is old, it just hasn’t healed yet. Try to get some sleep, don’t stay up thinking all night! See you in the morning!”
And with that Xie Lian dove for his sleeping mat in the hopes that it would kill the conversation. It seemed to succeed, because he heard Nan Feng fidget before finally stilling and putting out the palm torch.
A shame, Xie Lian almost wished he had asked him to keep it lit. It would be hard to sleep alone in the dark.
Alone. There was no need for that though, was there?
San Lang? he called out, not even hesitated to use his ridiculous verbal password, and he got his response immediately. With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes. San Lang, will you tell me a story?
When he woke the next morning, it was after everyone else had always stirred. They had clearly come to some sort of consensus about letting him sleep, which he could appreciate. After falling asleep to Hua Cheng’s fanciful and meandering tale about an aspiring scholar and the tigress she fell in love with, he had rested deeply and woke now without a headache. The vertigo was still stronger today than it usually was when he had just woken from sleep, but that could be managed.
“How are you feeling, Your Highness?” Shi Qingxuan asked as she — or he, as he seemed to be this morning — passed him some breakfast.
Xie Lian could answer truthfully that he was feeling much better. He was also able to share his (and Hua Cheng’s) plan with the room at large.
-
Which was how Xie Lian had ended up in a bridal sedan, wearing a bridal gown, beneath a bridal veil. Xie Lian thought that Hua Cheng had seemed, perhaps, a bit too enthusiastic when he had first tossed out this idea, but it was the one to which the other Heavenly Officials ultimately agreed. If anything, Shi Qingxuan had been almost as enthusiastic as Hua Cheng about it.
“Ming-xiong, we should switch forms as well!”
“How would that make any sense, if we’re supposed to be guarding the procession?” Nan Feng had demanded.
“We could be the accompanying maids!”
“Whatever, anything so that we don’t need to watch you hobble up a mountain,” Fu Yao had grumbled, side-eying Xie Lian. Which was a little unfair in Xie Lian’s opinion. He was much better now that his headache from yesterday was gone, and he would be even better if his walking stick hadn’t been left somewhere in the gardens of Paradise Manor.
But it got them on the case and up the mountain so Xie Lian wasn’t arguing. The next job was sending everyone else off so he could fully conduct and conclude the investigation. He Xuan had obligingly led away Shi Qingxuan — both in their female forms, though He Xuan had sent him a threatening look when he had changed, warning him not to comment — under some pretence in order to check out a lead that Hua Cheng had fed He Xuan. Something about a bandaged boy. As for Fu Yao and Nan Feng, they had left at Xie Lian’s request to protect the mortals. Now all Xie Lian had to do was rest and wait. It was the most peace he had managed to find since ascending. The swaying of the carried sedan had not been pleasant given his current dizziness, and it really had been quite nice to have it lowered back to the ground and for the noises outside to fade for the time being.
His wait paid off.
It was hard to make out past the heavy veil over his face, but the curtains of the bridal sedan parted, and Xie Lian could just see a very familiar, pale hand held out in front of him. Undemanding, but a gentle offer.
Without hesitating, Xie Lian took it and stood, letting the hand guide him from within the sedan.
“May I lift the bride’s veil?” asked a familiar voice.
“Please! It’s really inconvenient for brides, not to be able to see anything,” said Xie Lian.
Hua Cheng reached out and very delicately lifted the veil, and Xie Lian could only smile up at him. If Xie Lian didn’t know better, Hua Cheng could be easily mistaken for a real ghostly bridegroom, dressed in red and silver as he was, with ethereal little butterflies floating around his head. The affection that surged through Xie Lian seemed to burn out every inconvenience of the past couple days, and it was suddenly as if they were once more entirely alone, with no urgency to do anything but enjoy one another’s company in the gardens of Paradise Manor.
“Gege, I missed you terribly,” Hua Cheng was bemoaning playfully. “Only being able to listen to your voice but needing to sleep all alone? I was so cold!”
“I thought ghosts didn’t need to sleep though.”
“So cruel, to keep bringing that up. I’ve seen the error of my ways, I like sleeping when gege is there.”
Xie Lian liked it when Hua Cheng was there as well.
“The sooner we resolve this, the sooner we can go home and have a nap.”
Hua Cheng perked up at that. “Gege is so smart. There’s a temple just up the mountain — the ghost is just some pitiful wraith, and not a bridegroom at all. Shall we go?”
“Yes… only, don’t you think I might need some more spiritual energy, if we’re going to go face this ghost?”
Hua Cheng waved his hand dismissively. “She’s trivial, gege, I’ll take care of this chore.”
Xie Lian reached out and placed a hand on Hua Cheng’s cheek, ensuring he was looking at him, seeing his expression clearly.
“I meant, I would like some more spiritual power, if you don’t mind sharing.”
Hua Cheng’s single eye blinked, as if dazed, before he eagerly agreed. He made to reach for Xie Lian’s hand, but Xie Lian lifted it up out of his reach. At first Hua Cheng seemed confused, like a dog who’s toy had just been taken away, but then Xie Lian put both hands on Hua Cheng’s cheeks, so that he had his head cradled gently in his hold. The realisation that bolted across Hua Cheng’s face was so immediate and consuming that it made Xie Lian feel warmed right from his chest. And just a little light-headed at the knowledge that he had done that, and Hua Cheng very, very clearly liked it.
“If San Lang doesn’t mind,” he demurred.
Hua Cheng’s pupil was blown wide. He moved hesitatingly, unsure, like someone testing the water. He leaned closer, and slowly — so terribly slowly and carefully — he pressed his lips lightly against Xie Lian’s. They were dry and cool and exactly as soft as he imagined they would be.
He had wondered, before, if he might like something like this. If it would feel too intimate. If it would scare him or disgust him. The very idea of thinking that now was laughable; it took everything in his power not to forget himself and just fling himself around Hua Cheng’s neck and chase his lips as he pulled back. Instead he kept his hands resting lovingly against Hua Cheng’s cheeks.
“San Lang forgot the spiritual power,” Xie Lian remarked, a grin sneaking across his face.
Hua Cheng blinked again, startled. “Ah, apologies, let me try again—”
“San Lang can try as many times as he would like,” Xie Lian promised serenely.
That seemed to unstick something in Hua Cheng, because suddenly he was pressing in again, his hands coming to sit at Xie Lian’s waist while his mouth pressed and pressed and pressed against Xie Lian’s, and Xie Lian no longer bothered holding himself back. He threw his arms around Hua Cheng’s neck and allowed himself to be held and kissed and cherished. As he allowed himself to hold and kiss and cherish Hua Cheng.
(In the end, when they finally remembered they had a job to do and if they didn’t get to it soon then Heavenly Officials would start walking in on them, Xie Lian practically sizzled with spiritual energy. He swore he had so much in his body right then that it was making his hair frizz.)
(It did make it quite easy to handle the matter of the ghost bride.)
(Handling the matter of the other meeting Hua Cheng was a whole separate and frankly more complicated issue, even if he had taken on his San Lang skin once more. Hua Cheng was not being helpful, in the way he clung to Xie Lian and smirked provocatively at the Middle Court Officials the whole time Xie Lian attempted to explain this companion he had made during his banishment, how San Lang had “helped him out of a tough spot”.)
(Somehow this just seemed to make Fu Yao and Nan Feng testier.)
(Somehow Xie Lian suspected this would not be as easy as finishing the job, reporting back to the Heavenly Capital to pay off his debt, and then quietly returning to Ghost City…)
Somehow, his life was getting very crowded indeed.