Chapter Text
Xie Lian wiped a hand across his brow, and leant over his rake to survey his work. The ramshackle little shrine wasn’t grand by any means, but it kept the rain off his head, as long as he didn’t sleep under the bits where the roof had fallen in. A summer breeze stole across the yard, rustling the brown grass and the ragged curtain that hung in place of a door.
Godhood wasn’t so bad this time round, Xie Lian thought, splashing his face with water from the well. Since that business with the kidnapped brides had wrapped up, no one had come to bother him, leaving him free to spruce up his shrine and try to attract a few worshippers. The first wasn’t going too badly. It was the second that he was stuck on. Seeing as there wasn’t any war going on at the moment, a martial god wasn’t very in-demand, never mind one that had most of his powers sealed away.
What else could he help with? Wealth? No, he’d never been interested in money. Good fortune? It wasn’t as if he had any to give out, thanks to the cursed shackle. Maybe ‘clearing away your scraps’ god? No, too much of a mouthful. What a conundrum.
Still, it was time for a change in vocation. The question was, Xie Lian sighed, hoisting his rake over his shoulder and looking out over his fence across the wide sea of paddy fields - to what?
Well, he’d get no answers wallowing in his shrine fretting about it. Xie Lian set off the next morning for a wonderfully productive day of scrap-collecting in Puqi village. It was late summer, and the sun beat down from a dazzlingly blue sky without a hint of cloud. Comfortable in the shade of his bamboo hat, Xie Lian wandered among the sights and smells of the bustling market street, stopping at this shop or that to ask if the owner had anything that needed getting rid of. People seemed more generous for the fine weather: the teahouse owner gave him a steamed bun along with a dozen chipped teacups; the bookshop owner gave him a a barely-used inkwell atop an armful of yellowed scrolls.
A good day, Xie Lian thought, as he began to make his way back through the paddy fields. His bag hung delightfully heavy on his shoulder. Barely a mile into his walk, he heard the sound of wheels behind him - an ox cart, pulling a wagon heaped high with straw. Another unusual bout of good luck. The driver nodded Xie Lian up before he even asked, and Xie Lian climbed up happily with his haul.
It was only after he’d settled himself into the straw that he noticed a pair of finely-made black boots extended on his left. A pile of straw obscured the owner’s face. Oh well, as long as they didn’t bother each other.
Xie Lian set down his bag, took out one of the scrolls and unfurled it. The words: STUDY OF DIVINE BLESSINGS MOST IN DEMAND AMONG RURAL COMMUNITIES leapt out at him. That looked very helpful indeed. Xie Lian ran his fingertip down the text - hm. Many of these had already been crossed off his list. Some, he wasn’t sure any god could bestow. And then-
“Blessings relating to pleasures of the flesh,” he read aloud. “Oh dear. I suppose that would just make me more of a laughing-stock than I already am.”
“Why?”
The question had risen from behind the pile of straw. Xie Lian turned around, but the owner of the boots didn’t move.
“Martial gods may win wars, but in doing so they rain down death and suffering upon people by the thousands,” said the youth. “A god of sex may not bring glory or create empires, but would bring joy to ordinary people, living their lives in peace. Why is that any less noble?”
“You have a point,” Xie Lian replied. When the boy didn’t say anymore, he returned to his scroll.
A healthy mind and healthy body are two sides of the same coin. Without one, the other suffers. In the acts of sexual pleasure, mind and body come together to create a state of ecstasy without earthly parallel. Any deity who takes it upon themselves to tend to this vital facet of the mortal, or indeed, immortal, experience must possess several qualities: burning passion, inexhaustible energy, deep and sincere empathy…
“Now, that’s where they have me,” Xie Lian sighed. “How can I have empathy for these matters when I have no experience of them myself?”
“What’s there to stop you from gaining experience?” The voice from behind the straw again.
Eight hundred years of following an austere cultivation path was the main answer, but he couldn’t very well say that to a stranger. “My own ignorance, I suppose. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
A dark head popped up. The man inched himself forward so Xie Lian could see him - a slender youth dressed in rich red robes, with pitch black hair that looked deliberately but rather charmingly mussed. Xie Lian couldn’t help but notice that he was really quite good-looking, from his sharp eyes to his broad shoulders to his long legs. A rich man’s young son out for a jaunt, most likely. But he did say interesting things.
“No one knows where to start without trying,” he said. “And anyone can try if they want to.”
That didn’t sound right. “Isn’t there normally another person involved?”
“Not always. In fact, perhaps it’s better if there isn’t, at first. Before you challenged a person to a game of chess, wouldn’t you sit alone at a board beforehand to learn how the pieces move? Sex is no different. If you know yourself before you jump into someone else’s bed, everyone’s far more likely to enjoy themselves.”
Xie Lian laughed, blushing. “You speak as if you have a lot of experience, my friend.”
The young man leant nonchalantly against the side of the cart. “Is that something to be ashamed of? I’ve done plenty of things I should have shame for. Indulging in something that harms no one and brings me pleasure is the least of them.”
The ox-cart trundled bumpily onwards through the fields. Up ahead loomed a maple forest, its leaves already vibrantly red. They rolled into the cool shade beneath its canopy, where the filtered light cast a net of leafy shadows over Xie Lian and his new friend.
“You know, the more I hear you speak, the more reasonable it sounds.” Xie Lian sat back from the scroll with a sigh, tilting his gaze up towards the fiery foliage. “I suppose I would have had to start from the bottom, no matter what I switched to.”
“Is gege looking for a new job?” the other man asked innocently.
“Erm…sort of. In a way.”
His eyes twinkled. “Gege seems to be a very determined person. I have no doubt he will rise to the challenge.”
“If only I had that much faith in myself.” Xie Lian sighed again. He looked at his companion, who cast a very striking image, red robes against red maple leaves amidst the yellow straw. “What should I call you?”
“Me? Call me San Lang.”
“I’m Xie Lian. Are you from the village? It’ll be too dark to get back soon, if you’re not careful.”
San Lang shrugged, and brushed a red leaf from his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll find somewhere. I’d rather sleep in a field and eat grass than go back home tonight.”
Ah. Pleasures of the flesh, Xie Lian might have no idea about, but hunger was something he knew well. He opened his satchel, and took out the bun the teahouse-owner had given him.
“Here,” he said, holding it out to the boy. “Take it. It’s more filling than grass.”
San Lang eyed it. “Does gege have any more?”
“Never mind that. I’ve gone longer without before.”
He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
Xie Lian broke it in half. “There. Half for you, half for me?”
San Lang nodded, and came to sit next to Xie Lian. The ox-cart moved slowly uphill, and the sun began to dip in the west as they ate and chatted. Every now and then, Xie Lian would take a peep at San Lang out of the corner of his eye. There was something about him, the air around him and the way he talked, that was very hard to look away from. And it wasn’t just his looks. Though they were admittedly very nice. Especially his eyes. And his lips.
“So do you think you’ll start?” San Lang swerved topics, startling Xie Lian. “Trying to get experience?”
Xie Lian’s cheeks began their own imitation of the maple leaves. “Well…I suppose I should. Though it won’t be easy, after eight-hundred years of- I mean, since I’ve spent so long, um…dampening the fire, shall we say, I don’t know if…”
He trailed off pathetically, looking anywhere but San Lang. Philosophical discussions about shame and the lack of need of it were all well and good, but eight hundred years of instinct was hard to shake off.
To his mortification, San Lang, leant back with both his elbows on the side of the cart, and started to answer. “To build a fire, you only need a spark.”
“A…spark?”
San Lang crossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Does gege have anyone he likes? Someone he finds attractive?”
Xie Lian stared helplessly into San Lang’s eyes, all of a sudden perilously close to his own. If someone had asked him that question an hour ago, before he’d gotten on this cart, the answer would have been no. But what would San Lang think if he answered honestly now, that he got the hots for every guy he climbed into a cart with?
Xie Lian opened his mouth to say something, probably something stupid - but wait. That was Puqi shrine they’d just passed!
“Wait!” Xie Lian called frantically to the driver. “Wait, this is my stop! One second!”
San Lang took a glance at the shrine as Xie Lian stuffed his scroll into his satchel. “Do you live there, gege? It looks like it’s about to crumble.”
“Oh, it’s very cosy! You should come stay sometime.” The cart-driver made a grumpy harrumph. “Sorry, sorry! Right.” He made to hop off, but stopped for one more look at San Lang. “I…I hope I see you again.”
But what were the chances of that happening? Xie Lian shook his head, and turned to go.
“Wait.”
Xie Lian looked over his shoulder - and then felt the feather-light brush of San Lang’s lips against his own.
“Your spark,” said San Lang when he pulled away, his eyes bright. “Best of luck with your new job.”
Somehow Xie Lian got off the cart without falling face-first into the dirt. He stood on the road for a good while, sort of in a daze, watching as the cart, and San Lang, got smaller and smaller in the twilight.
What had that been?
He put his bag of scraps down on the altar table once he got inside. Something rolled onto the floor with a dull thud. Huh?
He bent down to find whatever it was that had fallen, and found it under the table. A single orange. Someone had come and offered it at his altar.
Xie Lian picked it up, misty-eyed. Someone had gone out of their way to stop here, and had left an offering in the hopes of having their prayers answered.
That night, Xie Lian lit a candle on his altar table, settled down with his orange and tried to cultivate.
Except that when he closed his eyes, the only thing that settled in his mind was San Lang. San Lang’s boots. San Lang’s legs. San Lang’s robes, red as maple leaves, gaping open as he leant forward to-
Xie Lian took a breath. Eight hundred years. Eight hundred years, he’d resisted these earthly temptations in favour of attaining godhood and saving Xianle. Xianle was no more. But perhaps there was another way he could help the common people.
Why is that any less noble?
Red leaves, red robes.
Your spark.
Xie Lian felt himself rising to attention beneath his robes. On instinct, he closed his eyes, tried to think of something else, wish it away. But…but what if he didn’t?
Learn how the pieces move…
Xie Lian lowered himself shakily on his sleeping pallet, trying to still his pounding heart. Overhead, stars burned silently in the distance through a craggy hole in the roof. His hands fumbled to untie his sash, baring his flushed skin to the cool night air.
He reached down, face flaming, trying very hard not to imagine San Lang watching him, and failing. If anything, the thought, the memory of his gaze only made him harder. He took himself in hand, released a shuddering breath, and if he’d been worried about not knowing what to do, well, he wasn’t now. His hand moved quickly, frantically up and down, and oh, San Lang had been right, right about everything. Maybe he was thinking about Xie Lian now, wondering if he was taking his advice, imagining what he was doing. Maybe he knew, knew Xie Lian was writhing and gasping on his bed with his name on his lips, stirring himself into a frenzy at the memory of his kiss-
Xie Lian arched high off the pallet with a sharp cry as he spurted all the way up his belly to his chest.
Afterwards, he lay there panting, his seed cooling on his skin, staring up at the stars.
He’d found his calling.