Chapter Text
Scene One: “Things Xie Lian Never Wanted to Happen (Like That)”
Location: Heavenly Capital, main street – late morning
Cast: Xie Lian (freshly ascended, thoroughly flustered), Hua Cheng (deeply proud, very much smug), Heavenly Officials (pretending not to watch, absolutely watching)
The first thing Xie Lian registered was wind.
The second was the utter silence of the Heavenly Capital’s central street.
The third was that he was very much sitting on cobblestone, in a glowing haze of divine energy, wrapped in only a fluffy blanket.
“Oh no,” he whispered.
People were frozen mid-step. Junior officials were slack-jawed. One poor Wind Master tripped on their own fan. Somewhere, someone definitely dropped a peach bun.
Xie Lian blinked. His vision was blurry. His thighs were sticky. Something was leaking.
“Haha ha ha…”
A high-ranking Heavenly Official, upon making eye contact with Xie Lian and a shimmering silver butterfly who sat comfortable at the top of his highness’s head, immediately sank to his knees, only to be held up by a fellow god. That particular Heavenly Official will later deny this ever happened.
Someone nearby whispered,
“Did he just—?”
“He’s naked under that—”
“The Crown Prince? Again?!”
“So improper! Where is Ling Wen!?”
Xie Lian made a noise like a kettle reaching maximum temperature. He curled further into his blanket like a shame burrito, still glowing like an especially bright night lantern and wishing for death.
A low rumble in the ground and a crack in the cobblestone later, a deeply unimpressed voice sounded:
“Why do I need to put up with this?”
A very unwilling Earth Master stepped out of the hole he had just dug beneath the Heavenly Capital’s central street.
“Ming-xiong!” someone cried.
“Nope,” said He Xuan, voice deadpan — not a reaction out of place for his perfect disguise as the Earth Master Ming Yi — striding up to Xie Lian with all the enthusiasm of a man asked to babysit cursed artifacts.
He took one look at Xie Lian, looked up at the heavens like he was filing a complaint, then crouched beside him.
“You’ve got ghostly fluid on your thigh,” he said calmly.
“I KNOW!”
He Xuan sighed. “You should’ve cast a spatial tether.”
Xie Lian’s face somehow glowed redder than it already was.
“I wasn’t planning to ascend mid—during—while—that!”
Heaven help him. Was this karmic punishment? Ascending while climaxing? In public? In front of the whole heavenly population??
“I figured,” He Xuan replied, expressionless.
“Hold still. I’m teleporting you before someone tries to capture this scene… in paint.”
Too late. A group of young, lower-ranked officials who looked suspiciously like they came from Ming Guang Palace had already started sketching something in chalk.
Later, in the Earth Master’s Palace:
Xie Lian sat on a plush couch, sipping tea, still glowing faintly and refusing to make eye contact.
Ming Yi sat across from him, very calmly flipping through a book. On the cover: Heavenly Disasters and How to Avoid Them: A Guide for Repeat Ascenders.
“Do you want a chapter added?” He Xuan asked, deadpan.
Xie Lian covered his face with the teacup.
Scene Two: “In Which Hua Cheng Is the Problem (and the Reward)”
Location: Earth Master’s Palace, guest wing
Cast: Xie Lian (still glowing), Hua Cheng (still smug), He Xuan (still regretting his life choices)
The Earth Master’s Palace was surprisingly cozy.
Xie Lian was currently buried in a nest of pillows on He Xuan’s couch — a place he absolutely did not belong in, given his current state — with his blanket trailing behind him like the world’s saddest royal train.
He was still glowing faintly.
Still feeling moisture between his legs.
Still emotionally stunted.
“Please tell me no one saw anything too… detailed,” he whispered.
He Xuan was already rifling through a drawer for tea, like he needed something stronger than divine-grade oolong to get through this.
“Someone took a sketch,” he said flatly. “I destroyed it.”
Xie Lian made a sound like a broken flute.
And then — a billow of red smoke puffed up in the air and a warm presence entered the room — impossible to miss.
Xie Lian didn’t even need to look — but he did.
Hua Chengs black undershirt clung just enough to make Xie Lian flustered all over again.
“San Lang…” he murmured.
Hua Cheng stepped closer, eyes soft, looking at Xie Lian, who was bundled up like a dumpling, eyes wide and glowing like the sun.
“Gege…” Hua Cheng breathed.
“I—I ascended again…” Xie Lian mumbled, cheeks pink.
“I know,” Hua Cheng said, smiling.
“I’m so proud of you.” He looked like he’d just watched the birth of a star.
“Did I cause it? I definitely caused it, didn’t I?”
Xie Lian turned bright red. “We are not talking about this!!”
Chuckling, San Lang sat beside him, fingers running through his hair.
“Do you feel different?”
“I feel like I’m going to melt into the upholstery.”
“I meant divinely.”
“I feel like your cum is going to start glowing too if you don’t stop talking.”
He Xuan dropped the tea tray.
“I’m leaving,” he said immediately.
“I’m going to marinate myself and throw myself as bait to my fish.”
“Thanks for saving me,” Xie Lian called after him weakly.
“You’re paying for the mental damages,” He Xuan called back.
The door shut with a hiss.
Now alone, Xie Lian looked up at Hua Cheng — who seemed impossibly proud, impossibly calm, and utterly ridiculous with the tips of his ears glowing red even as he smirked.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Xie Lian murmured.
“You became a god,” Hua Cheng said, brushing a thumb along his jaw,
“while calling my name. That’s going into our revised wedding vows.”
Xie Lian made a small strangled noise and faceplanted into the couch cushion.
“Don’t talk about wedding vows while I still have ghostly afterglow,” he mumbled.
Hua Cheng laughed, took hold of Xie Lian’s face, and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth.
“Jokes aside… are you okay?”
Xie Lian paused.
Then, quietly:
“I’m happy. Very embarrassed. I didn’t think something like that could happen….”
His chest tightened. For so long, godhood had meant burden. Worship had meant expectations. But here—wrapped in warmth, love, and a thoroughly dirtied blanket—it felt like grace.
Hua Cheng’s expression softened even more.
“I did,” he said.
“You’re meant to be a god, Gege. It just took the right kind of worship.”
Xie Lian burrowed deeper into San Lang’s chest, letting himself be wrapped up in his arms.
He pulled the blanket tighter around them both.
Xie Lian wasn’t glowing anymore — but he didn’t need to.
Hua Cheng was already holding the light.