Perchance to Dream

by zarasu

Summary:

When Xie Lian gets out of the coffin, he has a dream. He dreams of a boy, strangely familiar and lovely, and just for a moment, he's happy. But dreams don't last, and when he wakes up and realises that he is alone, Xie Lian breaks just a little bit. Unable to face reality on his own, he imagines San Lang beside him, accompanying him on his travels. Gradually, he forgets that San Lang isn't real.

Then, Xie Lian ascends for the third time, and San Lang starts acting a little strange.

Chapter 1

Notes:

This was beta read by FarmerDuck, thank you!

This is a very self-indulgent fic, and I hesitated for a long time before posting it. But the first chapter has been finished for months, and I still like it and want to continue the fic, so I might as well!
Heed the tags and let me know if there's anything I forgot to warn for.

 

After the coffin, there was pain.

Xie Lian was like a freshly born child, brought into the world from the dark belly of the earth. Unused to the sun, to the wind, to sounds, he could do little else but writhe on the ground like a worm.

His heart was pumping desperation through him as it had once pumped blood. He needed to get away from all these sensations, all this life. He needed someone, just one person, to give him a kind touch. He wanted home.

After so long, everything seemed changed. He couldn’t recognise the river anymore, or the trees, and he flinched away from any sign of civilisation. Still, trees were trees, and rivers were rivers, and somehow, he managed to drag himself into the forest.

Distantly, he thought he might have left a dark trail of blood and grave dirt behind. In reality, all the blood and vomit and dirt on him had probably long since dried. It was just that he felt like he was leaving a trail of death everywhere he went.

For the first few days, he could do nothing but curl up in the dry leaves covering the forest floor and wait for the pain of being exposed to life once more to pass. He knew it would. Every pain went away eventually; you just had to endure, endure, endure.

He must have spent decades, maybe even centuries in the coffin.

It only took a few days to acclimatise to the living world.

Finally, he could lie on his back and stare at the sky without agony burning through his body. He could move all of his fingers and feel his toes when he wriggled them. Breathing didn’t feel like acid being poured into his throat anymore.

With the relief of pain came loneliness.

If there was one truth in the world, it was that Xie Lian was utterly alone in the world. There was no one left. His family, his friends, his country, they were all gone. There was no Xian Le anymore. The years since the fall seemed blurry to him now, an endless procession of places and people. A few things stood out. Yong’an, a boy endlessly running away from his lessons… Ah, yes, Lang Qianqiu.

But hadn’t it been Lang Qianqiu who had staked Xie Lian to the coffin? He couldn’t quite remember the reason anymore, just that it had been his fault. Either way, that bridge was burned. He couldn’t go back to Yong’an. He needed to find a new home.

He felt wetness on his cheeks, and Xie Lian needed a moment to realise it was tears. He didn’t know where he had taken the water to produce them. Had he drunk anything in the past few days? He didn’t know. Reality seemed to be slipping through his fingers like flimsy silk.

Water. He should drink. But he didn’t think he was able to move yet, so instead, he closed his eyes and moved his fingers to make the dried leaves underneath them rustle.

The soothing sound eventually lulled him to sleep.

When he slept, he dreamed.

 

Xie Lian was lying on a bed of high grass. Golden sundrops were touching his face, turning everything soft and light.

“Dianxia,” a fond, amused voice came from beside him. “How long are you planning to sleep?”

At the silent laughter in that voice, Xie Lian opened his eyes. A young man was lying beside him, his cheek propped up on his hand as he smiled at him.

He was very handsome, Xie Lian thought, as his eyes wandered down the other’s body. He was clothed in red like a groom at his wedding, and his hair fell wildly around his shoulders to the ground.

What arrested Xie Lian the most, however, were his eyes.

They held the most peculiar expression. There was fondness and laughter in them, but those emotions were a thin mask over what lay underneath.

Underneath, they were just a little too wide, just a little too focused on Xie Lian. It looked, he couldn’t help but think, like devotion and wonder, and a strong torrent of fondness swept through him in response.

He suddenly felt that the boy was very familiar. Surely they knew each other, had looked at each other a hundred times before. Still smiling lightly, he reached out and set his hand over the other's cheek.

The amusement faded, and in its absence, revealed the wonder underneath. Those dark eyes widened and that pink mouth dropped open in an astonished little ‘oh’. The expression was so endearing to Xie Lian, he couldn’t help but let go of his cheek and laugh, his eyes squinting shut in delight.

“You’re so…,” he started to say, but then couldn’t think of how to finish the sentence.

He opened his eyes again. His companion was leaning over him, a strand of his hair tickling Xie Lian’s neck, and looking down at him with a hesitant expression.

“I’m so what, Dianxia?” he asked quietly.

Xie Lian reached up and tucked the naughty strand of hair behind the boy’s ear. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “What’s your name?”

He lowered his eyes for a moment, as though he needed to think about the answer. “You can call me San Lang,” was what he finally decided on.

“No, no, that’s no good,” he laughed, startling San Lang into looking back up. He looked almost scared, so Xie Lian hurried to clarify: “If I call you San Lang, you can’t call me Dianxia. My name is Xie Lian, you can use it.”

San Lang looked very conflicted about that. After a long moment, he asked, “How about Gege, instead?”

A hot flush went through Xie Lian’s body. He hummed affirmatively. “That’s good. Call me that again.”

A mischievousness came over San Lang and he looked at Xie Lian coyly. “Does Gege like it when I call him that?”

What was Xie Lian supposed to do but grab his arms and roll them over until San Lang was blinking up at him, his black hair tangling with the golden-green grass? Being called ‘Gege’ shouldn’t be such a big deal but, “The way you say it!” Xie Lian half-scolded him.

San Lang looked at him bashfully. “Should I stop?”

“No,” Xie Lian quickly said and gripped his wrists tighter where he had them pinned to the ground.

Then, he abruptly realised what he was doing. He considered releasing him, but in the end, he just continued staring at San Lang, who was looking back with a flush on his face.

“Gege has me now,” he said quietly and smiled up at him. “What is he going to do to me?”

The hot flush returned with a vengeance. Oh, Xie Lian had never felt this particular kind of desire before. But now, unexpectedly, he thought there were quite a few things he wanted to do.

He took a deep breath. Xie Lian knew, with the certainty of the dreaming, that he didn’t need to be shy or careful here. San Lang would like whatever he did. So, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his soft cheek. The resulting gasp was loud in his ear, and a thrill went through him at the reaction.

What other noises could he pull from him?

Instead of drawing back, he just kept dropping kisses on the other’s face, marvelling at the plushness of his cheeks and the sharpness of his nose. San Lang’s hands came up to grab his shoulders, holding on for dear life. When Xie Lian finally pulled back, San Lang’s eyes were squeezed shut and his panting was loud between them.

Xie Lian blushed at the sight. He felt untethered, drowning in possibilities. Here, he could do anything. There was no fear or anxiety or shame. And, for once, he unabashedly wanted someone.

But as he leaned down bravely to kiss San Lang’s mouth, the other abruptly turned his head away.

“San Lang?” he asked in confusion, narrowly avoiding smashing his mouth into the other’s jaw.

But San Lang just kept his head turned away, his mouth twisted into a pained grimace. Full of concern, Xie Lian cupped his cheeks in his hands.

"It’s just not proper,” San Lang whispered, “making you do this, even in my dreams.”

At that, Xie Lian had to laugh again. “Not proper? San Lang, what are you saying? Don’t you know that I want to?”

“But you only say that because I want you to!”

Baffled, Xie Lian looked down at him. "You want me to kiss you, but you don't think I should do it because… You don't think I really want to?"

San Lang's face twisted even further in some kind of strange pain, and for a moment, he looked very young. "This one isn't worthy."

At any other time, Xie Lian would have backed off, would have given him time. But a feeling of impending doom pressed in on his chest, and he instinctively knew that they didn't have much time.

He wanted to kiss him. He really, really wanted to.

So he reached up and gently grabbed San Lang's chin to turn his face back to him. "San Lang," he said, "I'm going to kiss you now. If you don't want it, push me away."

San Lang gasped and squirmed in Xie Lian's grip. But he didn't push him away.

Reassured that San Lang wanted it as well, Xie Lian leaned down and finally pressed his lips against that soft, beautiful mouth.

This was pleasure, a golden storm sweeping through him and leaving everything glowing and warm. This was becoming one with San Lang until they were no longer two people but one entity, a thousand golden threads connecting them.

It was San Lang growing pliant and sweet, surging up into his mouth. It was the need to touch every part of his body until he could recognise it with his eyes closed.

Xie Lian thought that they must have spent a long time on that golden grass, laughing and kissing and rolling around. At the same time, it seemed to barely be a second.

When the dream faded and he slowly awoke, he thought he could smell the faint scent of flowers.

 

“San Lang,” Xie Lian said quietly and wondered why his throat hurt so much. Really, his whole body wasn’t feeling too good.

He stretched out a hand to search for San Lang next to him. His hand only met cold soil and dry leaves. He reached out further, searching through the leaves for the warmth of another body.

When he didn’t find it, panic began to stir in him.

“San Lang?”

He opened his eyes and sat up. His body felt heavy and his head hurt. Still, he endured the disorientation in favour of frantically looking around. He was in a forest, the leaves on the trees golden and brown. The sun was shining through the canopy, and birds were singing in the distance.

Xie Lian was utterly alone.

In his life, he had experienced more loss and fear and despair than anyone rightly should. Still, he had gotten back up again, tried to do better, and gone on with his life.

For some inexplicable reason, this was the thing that broke him.

He knew, deep in his heart, that San Lang wasn't here anymore. That he had never been here. But he could still feel his warmth on his skin. His laughing voice was still echoing in his ears, and his smile had burned itself into Xie Lian's mind.

If only he reached out, then surely, San Lang would be there, taking his hand, his dark eyes shining, reeling Xie Lian in.

But, no matter how long he waited, there was no sound besides the birds’ singing, the wind in the leaves and Xie Lian's own heavy breathing.

A strange tingling sensation started in his fingertips and he brought them up to touch his face. He didn't recognise it, the skin bumpy with dried flakes falling off where he touched.

San Lang wasn't real. Xie Lian was alone.

He shook his head. But the thought didn't vanish.

San Lang wasn't real.

He was still shaking his head. Slowly, he stopped. His nails dug into his cheeks. They had nothing of the softness of San Lang's cheeks. Unable to bear the difference, he moved them up into his hair, tacky and stiff with old blood as it was.

Xie Lian was alone.

For the first time, he noticed how bad he smelled. His breath brushed against his knees. When had he drawn them up?

But what if…

He idly wondered what he should do next. He should do something. After all, he couldn't keep sitting here forever. But his whole body hurt and, for once, it wasn’t only the physical kind of pain. Xie Lian vaguely felt like screaming. He stopped himself in time.

He was alone, but…

Xie Lian needed to get up. It would only get more painful again if he didn’t give his body what it needed now.

Alone…

But what if he wasn't?

"Gege," a warm voice came from above, and he quickly looked up. San Lang was standing before him, smiling and holding out a hand. He looked just like before, clothed in warm red and his eyes creased with fondness. "Let's find a place where you can wash off the dirt, alright?"

A small smile appeared on his face, and he reached up to take the hand.

 

It was hard at first. Harder than Xie Lian remembered it being. Loud noises and bright colours still hurt, and everything that touched his skin burned like fire.

Washing was an ordeal. Peeling off his clothes was even worse. There was blood all over his skin, and a deep wound in his chest. His hair couldn't be saved. Xie Lian had to cut most of it off.

He managed to find his way to a village and stole a set of robes from a laundry line. Then, he fled back into the forest like a wild animal.

The thought of food made him sick for days and days. So, he didn't eat. San Lang accepted this for a while, as even the sight of some edible wild plants they passed made Xie Lian gag. But he grew increasingly concerned, as the days passed. He kept talking to him quietly, trying to convince him to give eating a try.

Xie Lian didn't want to. Even just drinking the cold, clear river water seemed like the hardest thing he had ever done, and nausea grew as familiar to him as the pain still clinging to him.

In the end, Xie Lian grew weak and had to admit to himself that he couldn't practice inedia anymore without eventually dying. Not that that would be permanent, now. Still, dying was messy, and the thought of taking another thorough bath in the cold river was a greater deterrent to him than actually starving to death.

He forced himself to eat a few leaves. The bigger challenge was to keep them down. As he sat very still and tried to ignore the roiling of his stomach, he remembered the picky eater he had been as a child. Xie Lian smiled. Right now, it looked like it had only gotten worse with age.

Then, he turned around to share the joke with San Lang, who was already looking attentively at him.

Xie Lian didn’t manage to eat anything else that day, but this first step seemed to have kickstarted something in his body because, the next day, hunger came.

 

He found himself crouching at the edge of a field, hidden behind bushes, and staring greedily at the radishes growing before him.

“I really can’t, San Lang. I’m sure the farmer will miss his crops!”

San Lang, crouching next to him, sighed quietly. “It’s not like you’re going to take all of them, Gege. He has a whole field of them, he will hardly notice if we take some.”

Xie Lian squirmed. After a moment, his stomach growled loudly. “I just hope he won’t starve over the winter.”

San Lang pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gege, you are starving now.”

“I just don’t want-”

“He will have planned for the loss of a few crops,” San Lang interrupted, frowning at him disapprovingly. But Xie Lian could see the thinly veiled concern behind that glare. “If we don’t take them, wild animals will. Gege, please.”

Xie Lian sighed and gave in. He was glad for the cover of the night as he hastily ripped some radishes out of the soil and fled with them, San Lang hot on his heels.

In the end, he could barely wait to wash the dirt off before he devoured them like a starving animal. He ended up regretting it later, lying curled up on the ground, his arms tight around his aching belly and desperately trying not to throw up.

 

He recovered, slowly. Still, he wasn’t sure he could survive a winter this far north, so when the days started getting colder, he and San Lang travelled south.

Winters were kinder there. Even so, Xie Lian often did little more than curl up somewhere and sleep. Even though his body had healed, he still felt exhaustion weighing on him like a heavy blanket, pressing him down like shackles.

It wasn’t so bad, with San Lang keeping him company. Xie Lian huddled in his embrace when the nights got cold, and San Lang’s encouragement managed to make him get up and look for food more often than not.

The winter passed slowly, but it did pass.

 

It was another clear night and the stars covered the dark sky like a glittering carpet. Spring had arrived and the air was warm and sweet, even after the sun went down. For the first time since the coffin, Xie Lian felt his shoulders loosen up.

San Lang was lying beside him, his cheek propped up on a hand. He looked at Xie Lian with glittering, devoted eyes, not so different from the sky above them.

Xie Lian huffed and turned away with a blush. To distract himself, he tugged Ruoye off his neck. “Look, San Lang,” he said when the band wriggled weakly against his hold. “It’s moving a bit more now.”

As Ruoye moved, more of its length came loose from Xie Lian’s neck. Dismayed, he considered the red-brown stains on the white silk. It was impossible to say what had dirtied the band, and really, he didn’t want to think about it.

At that point, there was very little of Ruoye that remained unstained, no matter how much Xie Lian washed and scrubbed it. “Ah,” he sighed. “San Lang, look at it. Do you think it’s possible to remove these stains?”

San Lang sat up with his brows furrowed, and Ruoye drooped a little under his considering stare.

Xie Lian laughed regretfully. “Ah, never mind, never mind. It’s not so bad,” he said. “If they really don’t come out, we will just dye Ruoye black. What do you think, Ruoye? A new look for you?”

Tired again, Ruoye returned to his neck, and Xie Lian stroked it with a soothing hum. He stared into the distance for a while, until he saw San Lang flop down to the ground with a huff.

His brow had smoothed out, and he was back to looking at Xie Lian with bright, devoted eyes.

“Ah, San Lang,” Xie Lian whispered. “What am I supposed to do when you look at me like that?”

San Lang rolled over onto his back with a quiet laugh, and Xie Lian couldn’t stop staring at the way his eyes squeezed shut in joy. After a while, San Lang sighed and looked up at the stars. “Gege,” he whispered.

“What is it?” Xie Lian answered, feeling warm and indulgent at being called like that.

San Lang didn’t say anything else, only sighed again before lifting his hand towards the sky. He made a motion as if he was grabbing one of the stars, quickly closing his fingers around it and bringing it down to his mouth. Then, he opened his fingers the tiniest bit so he could whisper into the gap.

He couldn’t hear the words, but a moment later, San Lang looked at him again. He reached out towards Xie Lian and opened his hand as if he was offering him the star inside.

Carefully, Xie Lian took the invisible star out of his hand and brought it up to his lips. Instead of whispering to it, as San Lang had done, he merely pressed a gentle kiss to his fingertips before closing his hand tightly around it.

When he looked to the side, San Land had rolled over, his back to Xie Lian, and was covering his face with his hands. The tips of his ears were bright red. Xie Lian laughed and crawled over to hover over him, a hand on each side of his head. “San Lang,” he laughed, “San Lang, look at you, you’re so…”

In the cage of his arms, San Lang turned back around, and his hands fell from his face, revealing his pink blush.

Xie Lian fell silent. He felt like all the air had left his lungs, and now, he could only stare.

“You’re so…” he quietly repeated after a while, but he still couldn’t think of how to finish the sentence.

“You know,” he said instead, and San Lang hummed questioningly, “Guoshi used to warn me a lot about worldly temptations. But I think…”

He shifted his weight to one hand and brought the other one up to softly cup San Lang’s pink cheek. “I think Guoshi couldn't have known you,” he sighed. “If he had, he would have known that no one could possibly resist you.”

San Lang huffed an embarrassed laugh, but Xie Lian didn’t feel like smiling. He felt scrubbed raw, all tender, no skin left. “The way you look at me! How am I supposed to keep a clear mind like this? When you’re looking at me with these eyes of yours…”

His head felt like it was filled with soft wool, all fuzzy and with no space left for rational thought. Gently, he placed his thumb over San Lang’s soft lips and leaned down.

He pressed his lips to his thumb as softly as he could bear and imagined San Lang gasping under him.

Then, he leaned up and kissed San Lang’s forehead, thin air transforming into warm skin underneath his lips. Xie Lian gasped at the feeling, and desire swept through his body like a tidal wave.

There wasn’t anything he could do but kiss the rest of San Lang’s face too, his soft, burning cheeks, the severe ridge of his nose, his brow…

The next moment, he felt tears spill from his eyes and fall to the ground. Kisses were replaced by sobs and he sank to the ground, San Lang vanishing under him because he had never been there in the first place.

Xie Lian dug his fingers into the ground, desperately trying to hold on to the illusion, and started to choke on his tears. “San Lang,” he cried. “San Lang, please…”

There was no answer. He curled up on the ground and buried his face in the dry leaves. It gave him a bit of relief to tuck his hands in between his chest and the ground. Like this, it was almost like he was being held.

After some time, Ruoye wriggled against his throat in concern. But Xie Lian didn’t have any reassurances left.

He was alone.

 

Of course he knew about heart demons. He had seen it often enough, all those years ago at the Royal Holy Pavilion. A disciple would cultivate carelessly or get stuck at a bottleneck and qi deviate severely enough to develop heart demons.

Cultivation was a tricky thing, and if a cultivator wasn’t careful, their own mind would turn against them all too easily, tormenting them with visions of their greatest desires or worst fears. Some would see their lost loved ones, embracing them in one breath and accusing them in the next. Others would see beautiful women, or old friends, or sometimes even themselves. In any case, it was hard to break free of them.

Disciples of larger sects were lucky. In cases like these, they would be brought to the healers and treated easily enough. A few elixirs and an experienced healer to clear out their spiritual veins and guide them through meditation were often enough to make the heart demons vanish.

In all his years of cultivating on Taicang Mountain, Xie Lian had never had these problems. His cultivation had progressed smoothly and he had advanced from one realm to the next without much difficulty.

It was only now that he was alone, without support, that the issue arose for the first time. If he wanted to overcome this heart demon, he would have to do it on his own.

The question was, did he want to?

Xie Lian was only alone if he allowed himself to be. If he didn't touch San Lang, didn't ask him questions he couldn't know the answers to, and didn't test the truth of his existence at all, then he wasn't alone.

He had his lovely companion, his devoted friend, right beside him, wherever he went. And Xie Lian went to a lot of places. From the East to the South, from the South to the West, on and on, he walked.

It turned out very quickly that Xie Lian wasn't meant for staying in one place for very long. Misfortune followed him wherever he went, destroying any chance he had of making a home.

His houses collapsed, he was robbed, diseases fell upon the villages he stayed in, or sometimes, it was ghosts and demons. In the end, he was always either driven out or left voluntarily.

San Lang cared about this a lot more than Xie Lian himself did. He made cutting remarks about the people they met, grew gloomy and spiteful whenever the villagers started to get restless, and loudly cursed them out whenever they were forced to leave.

He seemed to develop more of a personality in general, grew quick-witted and mischievous and utterly disdainful of everyone but Xie Lian.

(Sometimes, Xie Lian was afraid that he was deforming San Lang's personality, changing it to what he wanted it to be rather than what it was. Sometimes, and this was even worse, he wondered if he was forgetting what San Lang really was like.)

They spent years like that, and then decades. Xie Lian picked up skills here and there and tried his hand at different jobs, more or less successfully. In the end, he was always forced back onto the streets.

It wasn't too bad a life, regardless. There was Ruoye, of course, and San Lang was always by his side, there to witness his good and bad moments and make him laugh when he needed it.

Other people thought Xie Lian was crazy when they saw him talking to the thin air. He didn't mind that. They all left, eventually, while San Lang stayed. In Xie Lian's mind, it was obvious who the real one was.

Maybe San Lang wasn't always… consistently there. Sometimes, he was so real that Xie Lian could almost touch him, and they had long conversations. Other times, especially when Xie Lian was around other people, San Lang started to talk less and, after a while, his colours grew a bit pale.

It happened again when they were in Banyue, after Xie Lian had been forced into the army. Even though it hadn’t been his choice and even though he wasn't a martial god anymore, he still had a talent for fighting.

For the first time, he was surrounded by the same people for months on end. He didn’t remember the last time his luck had held out for so long. Although being forced to serve in the army perhaps counted as enough bad luck to grant him some peace otherwise.

Xie Lian rose fairly quickly in rank, more because of chance and his fighting skills than any real aptitude for leadership. He still wasn’t very popular. He had lived alone with San Lang and Ruoye for so long that he had gotten rather used to talking to them, and so he slipped up sometimes, even in the company of other soldiers.

It earned him a few wary looks and one or two unflattering nicknames. By now, Xie Lian was used to that kind of thing and it was easy to ignore. Still, the hard work and constant company made him forget about San Lang sometimes, and he had to consciously look for him until he appeared in the corner of his eye again.

He made it up to him in the evenings, when he settled in to make dinner on his own and chatted with San Lang about their days. San Lang had an opinion about everything and everyone, and Xie Lian enjoyed listening to his biting comments and mischievous jokes.

But even that part of their day didn’t remain undisturbed.

There was a girl, Banyue, who had been following Xie Lian around since he had given her some of his rations. Maybe she was hoping for more food, or maybe she wanted the safety that being around him granted her, but she soon started joining them for dinner.

Xie Lian could eat the food he made without any problem, but he knew that most people were less hardy. After the first time she tried to eat his cooking, he started giving her the buns he got as part of his rations.

It was nice, in a strange way, to have her company in the evenings. Nonetheless, he wasn’t willing to ignore San Lang during the only time of the day he had time for him. So, he introduced Banyue to San Lang.

“Go on,” he urged her gently, “he will be nice, I promise.”

Banyue gave him a hesitant glance and shuffled closer to the log San Lang sat on. Xie Lian gave her an encouraging smile, and she turned back to look at San Lang. “Hello,” she mumbled quietly.

San Lang looked at her idly, his cheek braced on his fist. “Hello, little girl.”

She shot another uncertain look at Xie Lian, and he said, “He’s greeting you. Ah, Banyue, I think he really likes you. He doesn’t usually think much of other people.”

Banyue rubbed her hands against each other. “Can I have food now?”

Xie Lian’s smile faded. “Yes, of course,” he said, and gave her the bun. She sat next to him to eat it and didn’t look at San Lang again for the rest of the evening.

She never ended up talking much to San Lang, but she didn’t mind Xie Lian doing so, either. It was good enough.

 

His time at the border wasn’t easy, but there was a routine and food and company, and Xie Lian was almost happy. But, eventually, every good thing came to an end.

As the months passed, Xie Lian grew concerned, to the point where he was almost anxiously awaiting the end of this bout of good luck. He couldn't leave of his own volition, couldn't abandon Banyue, but he knew he didn't need to. His misfortune would come for him, eventually.

He was proven right.

When his mutilated body finally washed up on the river's shore and Xie Lian regained consciousness, his surroundings were nothing but a bright blur of pain, but San Lang was crouching over him, his face twisted with concern. He had grown a little faded and quiet during their time at the border, but now he was vivid and his voice strong again.

He fussed over Xie Lian until his body had knitted itself together enough for him to stand and walk again.

Together, they continued wandering.

 

 

Chapter 2

Notes:

This chapter was betaed by 13thMuse, thank you!

 

Sometimes, it felt like Xie Lian's development had stopped when he ascended at the age of seventeen.

It had been a subtle thing, and he hadn’t realised it was happening until his years of travelling and watching people.

He saw how other people grew up, how their personalities changed and their minds matured as they became adults, and for the first time, he realised what had been taken from him when he ascended and became immortal. Or maybe he should say: what he had willingly given up.

(Sometimes, he wondered if he would have let go of San Lang by now if he wasn’t frozen in time. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.)

Xie Lian tried to make up for what didn't naturally happen. He adjusted his behaviour, and he copied other people he saw, and eventually, he reached a point where he felt like his behaviour reflected the age he should have been, even if his body didn’t.

When he ascended for the third time and the lightning swallowed him up, he spent a moment hoping that he would be freed from his frozen state and finally allowed to grow again. Then, he was distracted by a cacophony of yells, questions, and the tolling of a bell.

 

Xie Lian’s ascension was received by the other gods with nothing but annoyance and wariness. For days, he was left waiting, sitting on a street and idly discussing with San Lang what they were supposed to do about their debt. If anyone dared to get close enough to the laughingstock of heaven to hear him, they would shoot him a confused look or two. But very few people did, so he was mostly left in peace.

San Lang, for his part, seemed to utterly despise heaven and its inhabitants. He sneered at every official that passed by, made disparaging comments about everything from their clothes to their palaces to their abilities, and whined to Xie Lian about wanting to descend again.

It provided as much amusement to Xie Lian as it did comfort. With San Lang next to him, looking down his nose at the officials, he was able to hold his head higher as well.

Then, they got a mission. A case of missing brides around Yujun Mountain, and a suspected ghost groom.

With a sigh, Xie Lian accepted his fate and descended to the mortal plane.

The first surprise came in the form of two heavenly officials of the lower court who had followed him to help. They said they were from Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s palaces, and Xie Lian looked at their faces and started to wonder. But these days, he found it a bit difficult to keep track of new people, and their bickering soon faded into the background.

The second surprise came in the form of the most ridiculous plan Xie Lian had been part of in centuries. He more or less volunteered to play the bride and bait the ghost groom and, before the day was over, he found himself in front of a set of wedding robes.

Now, Xie Lian knew that he wasn’t bad-looking. He had been told before that he had a handsome, genteel kind of face and a graceful countenance. However, he was also undeniably stocky and muscular in a way that betrayed him immediately.

He threw a look at San Lang. The boy was still glaring at Fu Yao and Nan Feng instead of paying attention to him.

“I don’t like them,” he said.

Xie Lian breathed a laugh. “Why not?”

Nan Feng’s voice came from around the corner, where they were waiting for him to change into the robes. “Did you say anything?”

“Just talking to myself,” Xie Lian threw back, the lie coming easily after all these years. Then, he turned back to San Lang and raised his eyebrows.

San Lang huffed. “They come here uninvited and think they can order you around and talk down to you. Also, they’re getting on my nerves with their constant bickering.”

Xie Lian sighed again and reached down to pick up the robes. The thing was, he didn’t disagree with San Lang. “They’re here to help.”

“Yes,” he grumbled, “they better make themselves useful.”

 

The third surprise came later when Xie Lian was sitting in a bridal sedan, a veil tinting his vision red. Fu Yao and Nan Feng had long since left, gone to deal with the binus and wolves. He was alone.

And he was truly alone, he suddenly realised, when he looked around and didn’t see San Lang sitting next to him. He had been there just a second ago, Xie Lian didn’t know where-

In the distance, he heard the sound of little bells clinking together, and he froze.

It was rhythmic in a way that reminded Xie Lian of steps, and they were coming closer. He steadied his breathing and went back to waiting, his hands folded neatly in his lap. If this was the ghost groom, he didn’t want to give himself away too early.

The sound of the bells got louder until it was right next to the sedan. Then, it stopped. A hand parted the sedan’s curtains, and Xie Lian tensed. On his arm, Ruoye coiled up, ready to strike.

But no attack came. The hand stayed relaxed, palm up in the air. In his confusion, Xie Lian took another look at it. It seemed almost familiar…

A strange feeling came over him then. He placed his own hand in it and was helped out of the sedan.

In the darkness of the night, all he could see underneath his bridal veil were red robes, and for a heartbeat of a moment, he wildly, irrationally thought, ‘San Lang?’

And he knew, he knew that it couldn’t be him. And yet, as the man gently steadied him and led him into the forest, his hand a secure support around Xie Lian’s, he couldn’t help but think all kinds of improper thoughts.

Didn’t the ghost groom help him out of the sedan so gently as though he really was a groom bringing his bride home? Weren’t they both wearing red robes? Didn’t the bells on the groom’s boots almost sound like celebratory music? It would be all too easy to imagine that this was San Lang, finally coming to bring him home.

And so, half guilty, half flushed with pleasure, Xie Lian allowed himself to imagine it, just for a little while.

It was so easy. This man walking beside him shattered the hidden barrier with San Lang’s easy arrogance, chased away the last of the wolves without so much as a flick of his fingers, and treated Xie Lian with as much consideration as he ever had as they walked through the dark woods.

He couldn’t help but get closer to San Lang with his next step, trying to catch a whiff of his scent, wanting to see if his body had any warmth. San Lang allowed it, only gripping his hand tighter and angling his body towards him. But when Xie Lian breathed in, there was only the scent of the forest and, strangely, the sickly sweet scent of blood and rot.

The next moment, San Lang pulled an umbrella from his side and opened it above their heads. Drops hit the waxed paper. Xie Lian stayed dry.

He pressed himself even closer to San Lang’s side, utterly shameless. The other man’s body was solid under his touch, his hand soft and strong. And Xie Lian just couldn’t resist the temptation of touch after being deprived of it for so long. He didn’t know if San Lang minded. Except for a hitched breath when Xie Lian’s shoulder touched his, there was no reaction.

When the forest thinned out, he knew their walk was coming to an end. He exhaled and it almost hurt. But when San Lang, ah, no, the ghost groom, came to a halt, Xie Lian stopped too and turned to face him.

There was a short moment of hesitation, and then, the groom’s hand slowly came up to lift his veil.

He had gotten too lost in the fantasy. This wasn’t San Lang, and Xie Lian suspected that the ghost groom would be anything but pleased when he saw what was underneath the veil. Xie Lian needed to use that moment of surprise to attack.

Pale fingers caught the hem of the veil and started to lift it. Xie Lian grew tense. Before he could stop it, Ruoye reacted to his sudden anxiety and shot out from his sleeve towards the groom.

But, before it even touched him, the man transformed into a flurry of silver butterflies. They surrounded him in a cloud of light and movement before fluttering up and away into the night sky.

And, just like that, he was alone again.

 

The mission after that was a blur.

Xie Lian went through the motions, but his heart wasn’t in it, and in the end, he couldn’t help but wonder if the outcome would have been different if he had given it his all.

As it was, he was kneeling before another girl dying too young, granting her a last comfort. When she finally closed her eyes, he took a moment to consider whether he felt any grief. There was nothing, only a faint hint of regret. By now, he had to have knelt like this in front of thousands of people whose time was cut short by the casual cruelty of life. How many fatally injured soldiers had he made promises to? How many more people had he seen die outside of the battlefield? Xie Lian couldn’t remember. It had just been too many.

He looked up at San Lang, kneeling on her other side. His eyes were soft, and he whispered, “We need to give her a burial, Dianxia.”

Xie Lian lowered his head in a nod. “Yes, and the others.”

Nan Feng stepped closer. “Dianxia?”

“We will need to see if we can find the families of the dead brides,” Xie Lian said louder and stood.

Time for clean-up.

 

The last surprise came in the form of a bandaged boy kneeling in front of a gravestone.

It had been centuries since Xie Lian had last seen the Human Face Disease. And yet, when the boy, Lang Ying (and oh, didn’t that bring back memories), took off his bandages and revealed ugly burn scars underneath, Xie Lian didn’t doubt what he was seeing.

He would recognise it anywhere.

Before Xie Lian could pull himself together, the boy ran away and vanished without a trace.

It was something he brought up again, two days later, when he had returned to the Heavens and reported the results of the mission to Ling Wen. The goddess looked distinctly harried, and while she promised Xie Lian that she would keep an eye out for the boy, he doubted it was at the top of her priorities.

His meeting with Ling Wen was directly followed by another meeting in Heaven’s communication array. Xuan Ji, the real ghost groom, and her relations to Pei Ming were discussed before the conversation moved on to Qi Rong. Once again, an uneasy feeling overcame Xie Lian at the name. But what were the chances this Green Ghost was his Qi Rong?

Then, Xie Lian mentioned the man he had met on Mount Yujun, who had so gallantly helped him through the forest, and the communication array went silent.

This was how he learned about Hua Cheng, and the four calamities. The gods seemed eager to tell him the stories and rumours flying around about the ghost king. And there were certainly enough of them, starting with the time he challenged thirty-five gods to a duel and killed the thirty-three that accepted, and ending with the story of how a ghost became a ghost king.

Xie Lian learned that Hua Cheng ruled over a place called Ghost City, that he was fickle and ruthless, that he used a wicked scimitar and a swarm of lethal butterflies when he fought, and lastly, that he was quite insane.

At that, Xie Lian had to smile. It would be very hypocritical of him, he thought, to judge anyone for that last point.

After the meeting ended, he spent a few more days in the Heavens, thinking about what he had learned. But San Lang was quickly growing fed up with the place, and Xie Lian soon realised that he was missing something quite significant for a god.

So, after almost a week, he reported his decision to Ling Wen and descended to the human realm.

He was going to build himself a shrine.

 

It was nothing more than chance and the wind getting him off course during his descent that brought him to Puqi Village and the little, ramshackle hut that Xie Lian claimed to make into a shrine. But the villagers were nice enough, and this place was as good as any other.

So, after having introduced himself, Xie Lian went to collect some scraps in a nearby, larger village.

It was already good that he hadn’t been banished from Heaven again, he idly mused as he dropped a broken brush into his bag. He didn’t really expect any shrine he built to last long, but at least he had managed to stay a god for almost a month already. That was something to be grateful for.

As if his bad luck had decided to grant him a temporary reprieve, the day continued to be good. Xie Lian’s bag was full at the end of the day, and on his way back to Puqi Village, he came across an ox cart going the same way, whose driver kindly let him hitch a ride.

He settled in against the stacks of hay and heaved a contented sigh. It would still be a while until they reached Puqi Village, so he took the most interesting scrap he had collected that day out of his bag. It was a scroll with details about all the gods, and Xie Lian spread it out before him.

In his centuries of travelling, he had really become out of touch with current affairs. If he didn’t want to keep embarrassing himself, he really needed to catch up.

It was nice to read with the autumn sun shining down on him. Flaming maple trees lined the path, and the sound of the wheels over gravel provided a pleasant background noise. San Lang lay next to him, his arms casually raised to pillow his head where it leaned against the hay, and his legs stretched out before him. Like this, he looked utterly content, and Xie Lian couldn’t help but smile at him now and then, when he took a break from reading.

Eventually, he saw his own name on the scroll. ‘The Crown Prince of Xian Le, ascended thrice as: a Martial God, a God of Misfortune, a Scrap God.’

Well. News certainly travelled fast in the mortal realm.

Xie Lian sighed. “It’s alright. What difference is there between a Martial and a Scrap God? They’re both gods. In the end, isn’t everyone equal?”

Beside him, San Lang snickered. “Is that right?”

He shot him a cross look. Not that he could see it, with his eyes closed like that. Cheeky boy.

When he was already about to continue reading, San Lang said, “Sure, people like to say that all the gods are equal, but if that were true, then why would there be different gods?”

Xie Lian raised an eyebrow. San Lang was certainly in a peculiar mood today. He knew he didn’t mean it as an insult, but he still huffed a bit at the implied meaning. “If you say so.”

He went back to reading about himself. It turned out his reputation had only become worse over the years. Now, his paintings and shrines were rumoured to be cursed with bad luck. Xie Lian awkwardly scratched his cheek. Not that they were technically wrong.

Unable to bear reading any more about himself, he quickly skipped to the next god, the Water Master. ‘The Water Master Wudu controls water and wealth. Most merchants have a Water Master shrine in their stores and homes to pray for abundant wealth.’

“Hm, how strange,” Xie Lian mused. “What does water have to do with wealth?”

Once again, San Lang responded, “Merchants transport their goods over the water, so they always pray to the Water Master for peace and safety, and give lots of offerings in return. After a while, the Water Master became the god of wealth.”

Xie Lian furrowed his brows and looked up at San Lang in confusion. How did he know that?

But he supposed it was a logical conclusion to draw. San Lang could have come up with that after a bit of thinking. It wasn’t too strange. Still, Xie Lian felt a little uneasy and breathed a hesitant laugh. “San Lang, you’re so smart. How did you think of that?”

Abruptly, San Lang’s eyes opened, and he sat up. “What did you just say?”

Taken aback at the strong reaction, Xie Lian paused. “What’s up with you today? You’re behaving a little strangely.”

San Lang stared at him for a long, silent moment. Finally, he said, “Am I? How so?”

Xie Lian looked down at the hay and thought about it. In fact, he couldn’t quite say what had spooked him so. San Lang’s conclusions had been logical, and he hadn’t acted out of character. It was just that there seemed to be something subtly different about him. Although he supposed he hadn’t paid very close attention to San Lang over the last few days, with how much had happened.

Suddenly, he felt a bit guilty. He had really been neglecting him lately, hadn’t he? If there was anything different about San Lang, it might just be him acting out for attention. Of course, Xie Lian was happy to give it to him.

“Never mind, never mind,” he waved him off. “What do you say about going home and spending a nice evening together? I have collected so many scraps, you can keep me company while I repair them. We really haven’t had much time for each other lately, I’m sorry about that.”

San Lang gave him a strange look and remained silent for long enough that Xie Lian started to get nervous. He hadn’t accidentally angered or hurt him, had he?

Finally, San Lang gave a subtle nod. “Yes. Alright.” And, after a moment, he added, “I would love to spend the evening with Dianxia.”

Xie Lian started at the formal address. Maybe San Lang was a bit cross with him after all? “What is this?” he asked gently. “What Dianxia? Won't you call me Gege again?”

Once again, San Lang was silent for too long. He opened his mouth and then seemed to forget to close it again.

This time, he caught himself quicker. He closed his mouth and looked to the side, his dark eyelashes brushing his cheeks. “Of course. Gege.”

He remained strangely tense after he finished, but Xie Lian finally relaxed a bit and smiled. “Good, that’s good. I’m glad!”

He leaned back against the hay to go back to reading, but San Lang sat there and looked at him as if he wanted to keep talking. Slowly, Xie Lian lowered the scroll again.

“It’s really been a hectic few days, hasn’t it?” he tried. San Lang nodded slightly, and Xie Lian continued, “It must have been strange for you too. I forgot, but you’ve never been to Heaven, right? Still, you shouldn’t be so rude to the other officials. After all, we might have to work together again in the future.”

San Lang furrowed his brows.

“Don’t make that face at me,” Xie Lian scolded him playfully. “I know you don’t like them, but they’re not all bad, you know?”

After a moment, San Lang shifted where he sat and said, “But Gege, they’re all terribly incompetent.”

Xie Lian laughed and relaxed fully. “I know, I know. I’m the only one of them who’s worth anything. You’ve told me before, many times.”

“Yes,” San Lang said slowly, his brows still a bit scrunched up, “yes, you are. I don’t think I have told you that enough times yet.”

He shook his head. “You’re so shameless, San Lang.” He gave a tired sigh and leaned his head against the hay. “To tell you the truth, though, I’m also a bit tired of them.”

San Lang looked up from where he had been staring at the wood of the cart. “You are?”

Xie Lian hummed affirmatively. “It’s strange. I have spent so many centuries in the mortal realm, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what it is like to be in Heaven. How the other gods judge you, eternally waiting for you to make a mistake…” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I didn’t do a good job at navigating the political landscape of Heaven as a seventeen-year-old, and I’m afraid I have only gotten worse at it with age.”

He met San Lang’s wide, attentive eyes and blushed a little. There it was again, that starry-eyed look. “Ah, don’t look at me that way, dearest. You know I get all–San Lang?”

San Lang seemed to have choked on something. He turned away and coughed a few times, his hand pressing hard against his mouth. Xie Lian scrambled to his knees and reached out in concern, stopping just before he touched his shoulders. “San Lang! What is it? Are you alright?”

San Lang waved him off. “Yes, sorry, Gege, I'm fine. I just swallowed wrong.”

Xie Lian stared at him speechlessly. …Swallowed wrong?

But he accepted the excuse and gave him some space. San Lang kept his fist pressed against his mouth for a moment longer, then he dropped it and smiled at Xie Lian weakly. “Really, it's nothing. Don't mind me.”

“Hm, if you say so.”

He watched San Lang carefully, but he really seemed to have recovered and appeared just fine now. Eventually, Xie Lian shrugged a little and leaned back. It had been a long day and San Lang didn't look like he had anything more to say for now, so he took the opportunity to rest a bit.

He must have dozed off for a few minutes because, when he woke up, it was already growing dark around them. He instinctively looked around for San Lang and found him sitting in the same spot as before, his lovely face pensive as he looked at the dark forest around them.

Xie Lian rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, San Lang, I must have been more tired than I thought.”

San Lang shook his head. “Don't apologise. I'm glad you got some rest.”

They couldn't be far from Puqi Village anymore, so Xie Lian stuffed the scroll back into his bag and sat up properly. “How long was I asleep?”

San Lang turned around where he was sitting at the other side of the cart and smiled. “Not too long. Maybe two incense sticks' worth of time. We should be–”

Suddenly, the cart rattled to a violent stop, and San Lang slid towards the edge, threatening to fall off.

Lightning quick, Xie Lian’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. And of course he knew that it wasn't–that San Lang didn't need–but it happened so quickly that he didn't have time to think!

San Lang’s hand was solid underneath his touch.

For a moment, Xie Lian just held it and stared. Then, San Lang flinched back, pulling his wrist from his grip, and Xie Lian was left flexing his fingers around thin air.

What–

From the front of the cart, the old driver’s voice came. “Old Huang, why aren't you moving? Go on, go on now!”

Xie Lian shook his head, putting that issue aside for now, and stood. “What's happening?”

“I don't know! He's just refusing to walk!”

The ox only mooed and flicked its tail. Xie Lian took another glance at San Lang before turning to jump off the cart to see what was going on. Before he had the chance, however, the old driver gave a choked yell and pointed straight ahead. “There, there–”

Xie Lian stretched to look over the hay and saw a group of white-clad figures coming towards them, surrounded by hovering, green flames. Each of them was carrying their head under their arm.

Ghosts.

He burst into motion, commanding Ruoye to circle them and erect a barrier to keep them from noticing the cart.

“What day is it today?” he whispered.

From behind him, San Lang’s voice came. “It's Zhongyuan.”

Xie Lian slanted his eyes towards him before turning back to the driver. “You must stay very quiet now, until they’ve passed us.”

But the old man frantically shook his head. The whites of his eyes were showing, and he gasped, “No, no, I don’t think I can stay quiet! Daozhang, what should I do?”

The ghosts were steadily coming closer. Xie Lian didn’t have much of a choice. He apologized, struck one of the old driver’s acupuncture points, and caught him when he lost consciousness. He and San Lang took his place on the driver’s seat, and Xie Lian took up the reins.

He stared straight ahead at the approaching ghosts, hoping for the barrier to hold out. Next to him, San Lang shifted, and Xie Lian looked over. He had a strange expression on his face. Compared to his usual casual confidence, it looked almost like fear.

Xie Lian smiled at him reassuringly. “Don’t worry, we’ll be alright.”

San Lang tilted his head to the side, his eyes never leaving Xie Lian. “Is Gege going to protect me?”

Xie Lian paused. Then, he processed what San Lang had said, and his face grew very hot. He gave a stuttered laugh that was just a little too loud, and quickly clamped his mouth shut. “Yes,” he said, quieter, and looked away. “Yes, of course, always.”

He wanted to say more, but at that moment, a yell came from the side. “What the hell’s going on? Why can’t we pass?”

Some of the ghosts gathered around the cart, and Xie Lian carefully urged the ox to keep walking, Ruoye securely around them. They had almost left the group behind them when one of the ghosts started screaming about ghost murderers and cultivators.

Xie Lian cursed internally and half stood. With a quick shout and snap of the reins, the ox was running, dragging the cart behind it at a breakneck speed. As they fled, he withdrew Ruoye from its formation and used it to clear out the path ahead. The barrier broke, and the ghosts flinched back as, all of a sudden, an oxcart appeared out of nowhere.

They got over their surprise quickly, however, and started to follow them in a wild hunt. Xie Lian threw a few talismans at them, but that would only buy them some time.

Soon, they reached a fork in the road and Xie Lian slowed the cart. This was a dangerous situation. Everyone knew that Zhongyuan night was a bad time to wander the streets. New paths had a habit of appearing during that time, and if someone chose to go down the wrong one, they might just be stuck in the ghost realm forever.

He pondered the issue for a long moment before remembering that he had collected a fortune shaker among his scraps that day. He was about to reach for his bag, but abruptly stopped.

San Lang had been strange today. He had behaved unusually, and when Xie Lian had touched him, there had been a very tangible difference…

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to test him a little more.

“San Lang,” he said, and the boy sat up straight and looked up at him. “Which way do you think we should go?”

San Lang’s eyes drifted to the side in that way they did when he was thinking, and Xie Lian tutted. “Be honest with me, no playing.”

At that, San Lang’s gaze snapped back towards him and his mouth fell open a little bit. He stared at Xie Lian for a few seconds. Then, he raised his hand and pointed to the left path.

“Thank you, dear,” Xie Lian said, and urged the ox to go left.

They drove through the dark forest for almost another hour, before the lights of puqi village greeted them in the distance. During that time, Xie Lian had the chance to think about everything.

San Lang had been with him for centuries now, and never before had he given Xie Lian any advice that he did not also already know himself. If, in the past, he had asked San Lang what way to go, he would have said something very pretty and diplomatic like ‘Whatever you think best, Gege’ or ‘Gege, we both know you want to go that way, so you should just do that.’
Just then, Xie Lian had planned to take the right route. Knowing his luck, they would have driven straight into the ghost realm. San Lang had always bravely shouldered his bad luck with him. He had, however, never averted it.

Just as he had never felt this solid before. Xie Lian snuck a glance at the pale, elegant hand lying on the driver’s seat next to his thigh. He very much wanted to touch it again to see if this kept up. He gripped the reins tighter instead.

No matter how much he pondered, in the end, there were only two explanations for this sudden change in San Lang. The question was, which one of the two was true?

Xie Lian cleared his throat. He certainly didn’t need to, to get San Lang’s attention. As always, San Lang had already been looking at him. But he was nervous and it bought him some time to regulate his voice.

“You know,” he said, “I just realised that I’ve never given you a palm-reading before.”

San Lang sat a little straighter. “You can palm-read, Gege?”

Xie Lian looked up at the sky for a second to hide his expression. He couldn’t, in fact, palm-read. “Of course.”

“I’d be happy to have you read my palm, then,” San Lang said, and Xie Lian’s heartbeat picked up at his smile.

San Lang held out his hand, and Xie Lian reached out and carefully took it into his. He touched soft, cool skin, stretched over the fine bones in the back of the hand. When he moved his fingers up a little and wrapped them around the wrist, he could feel San Lang’s faint heartbeat under his fingertips. It was very fast.

Xie Lian silently stared at this hand for a long while. It was deeply familiar, from the little scars on the pointer finger and the palm to the shape of the fingernails. It was undoubtedly San Lang’s hand, as familiar to Xie Lian as his own.

He had wondered if, maybe, a demon had replaced his San Lang. There were certainly enough demons out there who could read people’s minds and change their form. Xie Lian had encountered quite a few of them himself, like The Land of the Tender, who took on the form of what you desired the most to lure you into their poisonous trap, or the Venerable of Empty Words, who read your worst fears straight out of your mind to whisper them back into your ear.

It wasn’t impossible that something similar had seen San Lang in Xie Lian’s mind and taken on his form for its own purposes.

“Gege?”

He looked up into San Lang’s concerned face. “Didn’t you want to read my palm?”

His dark eyes were full of stars, and Xie Lian had to close his own for a second. “Yes,” he finally said roughly. “I just had to remember how to do it.”

He looped the reins around his arm and brought up his other hand to trace the fine lines on San Lang’s palms. He chose one randomly and said, “This one means you will have a long life.”

San Lang made a quiet, choked little noise, but when Xie Lian looked up, his face was blank. “What else?”

“Hmm.” He traced another line half-circling his thumb. “This one means that you’re very charming. Many people are drawn to you.”

Finally, San Lang laughed. “Gege, you can read all that from my hand? You’re really amazing.”

Xie Lian huffed. He might have been making all of this up, but that still wasn’t a reason to make fun of him. “It also means that you’re quite impatient,” he said with carefully hidden viciousness. “A little arrogant, too, and judgmental.”

San Lang’s smile abruptly vanished.

Now, it was Xie Lian smiling. He tapped a third line. “But this one changes things a bit. Once you care for someone, you care very deeply and try to keep that temper in check, don’t you? You would treat them very kindly and with the utmost respect.” He paused before continuing. “But they wouldn’t mind your more wicked qualities. They would find them just as charming as all your other traits. They certainly wouldn’t want you to hide them for their sake.”

Only silence answered him, and he looked up. San Lang’s eyes were wide and there was a faint flush on his cheeks. Xie Lian knew this look very well and he took it in greedily, a stab of old, familiar yearning appearing in his chest.

San Lang exhaled a small gasp of a laugh, more shocked and helpless than amused, and Xie Lian reflexively squeezed the wrist in his grasp before forcing himself to relax his hand. San Lang opened his mouth, but couldn’t seem to find anything to say, and closed it again, all the while looking at Xie Lian with an expression so sweetly vulnerable that, all of a sudden, he was transported back to a dream from centuries ago, where he rolled around in the grass with a sweet, shy boy.

If this was a demon emulating his San Lang, then its abilities must be far, far above anything Xie Lian could ever hope to defeat, because this was San Lang.

He knew him like he knew no one else; he knew that expression, that gasp, that certain way he said ‘Gege’. This could be no one else but San Lang.

Which meant that only the second explanation was left. If San Lang was different, but it was still San Lang, then the reason for the change had to be Xie Lian himself.

Maybe, when he ascended, something broke in him. Maybe he qi deviated when it happened, and his heart demons became worse. Maybe he had just been slipping deeper into insanity without noticing the whole time and had finally reached the point of no return.

But if it was like that, if Xie Lian had truly lost it and that was why he could now hold San Lang’s hand and hear him speak like a wholly independent person, was that truly such a bad thing?

He felt skin and flesh and a heartbeat against his fingers and closed his eyes. He had made his decision a long time ago. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

 

 

Notes:

I hope you liked this chapter! Have a nice day^^

Chapter 3

Notes:

A few sentences in this chapter have been taken directly from the books!

Some people have commented that Xie Lian's imagination is too accurate, so they must have been in contact beyond that initial dream. Ahh, I'm just a romantic who thinks they're soulmates! Don't take this fic too seriously, please, it's deeply unserious!!

 

Hua Cheng’s development had stopped when he died at the age of seventeen.

To a degree, that was the case for all ghosts. You didn't keep on existing if you didn't have some obsession that made you defy death and tether yourself to this world out of pure spite.

But it was, at its core, a deeply unnatural process. Humans were supposed to be flowing rivers, ever moving and changing. When he died, the stream of his life had stopped, and Hua Cheng had driven a dam into the river bed to keep it from running out, and turned himself into a lake.

In the following eight hundred years, he had had a lot of time to think about human nature.

He saw how they changed as they aged, how their priorities shifted, and their love was split and transferred and born anew.

Hua Cheng had always been a singularly obsessive person, even in life, tending to his love and devotion to Taizi Dianxia like a well-kept garden. He prayed like he was watering beloved plants, weeded out any insecurities and doubts, cultivated that landscape to make it into something useful and everlasting.

He would like to think that, even if he hadn't died, he would have tended to this obsession for as long as he lived. People might change, but Hua Cheng would have waded against the river’s flow and cultivated his devotion as others cultivated their qi. The thought that he might have wavered was not something he liked to think about.

But it was a moot point. He was dead, and he couldn't escape his obsession even if he wanted to.

Hua Cheng shook his head. He had gone off on a tangent again.

It was, in the end, a question of strength, as was everything in life and death. The weakest ghosts were little more than their obsessions. They revolved around it and eventually ended up being absorbed into it, their personality and memories fading into the obsession. The more powerful the ghost, the more likely they were to have a semblance of life outside of their tether.

Ghost Kings like Hua Cheng or He Xuan were powerful enough that they could almost pass off as humans. They were able to adapt to change, switch up their habits, make adjustments to their personalities, and learn new things.

At their core, however, their obsession was unchanged, beating like an immortal heart in their chests. He Xuan would never be able to let go of his pain and resentment, Hua Cheng would never be able to let go of Taizi Dianxia.

It was not only love that he felt. Taizi Dianxia, Xie Lian, and oh, it felt sacrilegious to even just think the name in the privacy of his mind, was more than just his beloved, although he certainly was that too, always.

He was Hua Cheng’s soul. Every part of Dianxia was more familiar to him than anything else he had ever seen, including himself. He found purpose in the lines of his face, found home in the colour of his hair, found devotion in the shape of his hands. His voice, his expressions, his movements plucked Hua Cheng’s soul like the string of an instrument.

He yearned to once again lay eyes on him, hear the particular intonations of his sentences, see the way his face moved with emotion and thought. He yearned for him in the way a child might yearn for home, or a dog might yearn for its master.

He yearned like a devotee seeking enlightenment, once tasted before it was cruelly taken from them.

 

 

They reached Puqi Shrine without any more issues. Xie Lian woke the old driver and had him promise that he wouldn't tell anyone about what had happened that night, before taking his bag of scraps and ushering San Lang into the shrine.

Once inside, he heaved a big sigh, set his bag down next to the door, and went to unroll the straw mat for the night. He wasn't very tired yet, but he was ready for a quiet night in and a break from people.

When he looked around, San Lang was walking slowly around the shrine with his hands clasped behind his back, inspecting everything as if it were an interesting art piece.

Xie Lian flushed a little. “What are you doing?”

He turned around and smiled. “Gege, say, isn't this shrine missing something?”

“What could it be missing?”

San Lang’s mouth twitched in amusement. “A depiction of the god?”

Xie Lian started. He had indeed forgotten about that. He straightened from where he was crouching over his bag and laughed awkwardly. “You're right, of course. I'll figure something out in time.”

“I could paint one for you.”

A few seconds passed before Xie Lian realized what San Lang had just said. He slowly turned around. “What?”

San Lang’s smile wavered a bit. “I could make a painting of— This shrine, it's for you, isn't it, Gege?”

When Xie Lian only continued staring at him, San Lang nervously shifted on his feet. “I could make a statue instead, if you prefer.”

“Don't say something like that,” Xie Lian finally said, maybe too harshly. They both knew he couldn't, so why was he pretending—

But when he saw how San Lang’s face twisted into an expression he had never seen before, something alarmingly like self-hate and hurt, he stepped forward quickly. “Oh, I'm sorry, San Lang. I didn't mean it like that!”

He stopped himself before reaching for his hands, but suddenly realized that he could touch, and so he reached forward and took San Lang’s dear hands in his.

“Let's not talk about it anymore! I just want to spend the rest of the evening with you, doing whatever we like, alright?”

San Lang lowered his head in what could have been a nod. “Yes.”

For a split, horrible moment, a phantom voice echoed in Xie Lian’s ears, another boy who had said ‘Yes’ in exactly the same way, giving nothing away but a wide, bone-white smile.

Where had that come from?

Xie Lian shuddered and stuffed that memory back where it belonged, deep into the recesses of his mind.

They sat down on the floor, and he upended the bag of scraps between them. He wouldn't get to repair all of them today, but he could at least look through them and think about what to do for each of them.

For a while, there was silence as they busied themselves with inspecting the scraps. San Lang picked one up now and then to take a closer look, and Xie Lian couldn't help but keep glancing up at him. He still didn't know what exactly had happened that San Lang was so much more present now. He had never picked up any of Xie Lian's scraps before, nor had he ever worn this specific expression before. It was more blank than his face usually was, as though he was hiding his feelings.

It didn't matter. Even if San Lang was a bit different now, he was still himself, and that was what counted. Xie Lian carefully kept his eyes on his scraps and banished any doubt from his mind. He was very practiced in redirecting his mind to pleasant topics.

He would have liked to make tea. It would have to wait until he had earned enough to buy dishes and cooking ware. Enough for two.

A home. They hadn't had that for a long time.

“What are you thinking about, Gege?”

Xie Lian smiled and shook the ink grinder he was holding. “Whether this would be more likely to find a new owner if I carved details into the side.”

San Lang smiled as well and lowered his eyes. He was rubbing his thumb over the nails of his other hand in a nervous gesture. “I have a question, if you'll allow me to ask.”

“Of course.”

“We've known each other for a long time, haven't we, Gege?”

He looked at him in surprise. Now, where was that coming from? “Yes, I'd say so. A few centuries at least.”

San Lang nodded. “Do you still remember our first meeting?”

Xie Lian’s eyes widened, and he set the ink grinder down on the floor before it could slip out of his suddenly numb hand. “I do.”

San Lang looked at him with such bright, expectant eyes that he couldn't help but give an embarrassed laugh. “Why are you asking about this so suddenly?”

An enigmatic smile appeared on San Lang’s face. “I'm just curious what you thought and felt back then. About me.”

He felt his face grow hot and averted his gaze. “You're shameless, San Lang. You know very well how I felt.”

"Do I?" San Lang whispered, but Xie Lian didn't deign to dignify that with a response, and he didn't ask again.

But as he finished looking through the scraps and reached into his pockets to get a needle and thread to start mending a little cloth doll, he caught sight of the frown on San Lang's face. His movements slowed, and his heart turned gooey and warm in his chest.

What was a bit of embarrassment, really, if it made San Lang happy? He sighed and lifted the doll higher to hide his blush.

"Sometimes I still smell the grass," he said, and San Lang looked up in surprise. "And hear the birds. Sometimes, I still—" And here, he choked on the words, trying to speak past the shyness burning in his throat. The rest came out in a rushed whisper. "I still feel your wrists in my hands and your breath against my mouth."

Xie Lian was very determined never to look up again, but in the end, his curiosity won out. San Lang's reaction didn't disappoint. He was flushed, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open, and some secret little part of Xie Lian felt smug pleasure. San Lang was so easily affected every time Xie Lian dared to be a little shameless himself.

As always, San Lang looking so flustered made something ignite in Xie Lian's chest. It was like a hook underneath his ribs, reeling him in until he couldn't help but drop the doll to the floor and crawl over to him, pushing the scraps out of his way.

San Lang sucked in a breath and flinched back, something almost like panic in his eyes. Xie Lian caught him, solid, still solid underneath his hands, and kept him in place. He inched closer, until they were sitting with their faces less than a hand's width apart, his thighs bracketing San Lang's, his hands gripping his robes so tightly that they pulled away from San Lang's chest, revealing more skin than Xie Lian was used to seeing.

He could see his heartbeat in his throat, wild and fast. When he looked up, San Lang had his eyes squeezed shut. His breaths came quick, in scared little gasps.

Xie Lian felt possessive and indulgent at the sight. When was the last time they had been like this? He couldn't remember, only that he felt more alive right now than he had in a long time. More bold, as well, and cruel, perhaps, going by the way he leaned in despite San Lang's overwhelmed panic.

Where had his embarrassment from before gone? It was as if seeing him like this made it evaporate, like rain meeting fire.

He pressed his lips to San Lang's soft cheek and reveled in the choked, helpless noise it earned him.

"Gege," San Lang whispered, his voice high.

"Shh. Don't be afraid, dear. I have you." He moved over to kiss the other cheek, enjoying how the skin dipped under the pressure. It was smooth and warm, and Xie Lian couldn't believe that he got to have this.

He kissed his forehead, his widow's peak, his nose. He hesitated when he reached the lips and drew back to look at him. San Lang still had his eyes squeezed shut, and his brows were furrowed like he was in pain. His chest was utterly still.

"Breathe, dearest," Xie Lian said fondly, and San Lang sucked in a desperate breath. He reached up and stroked his thumbs over San Lang's cheeks. Finally, he couldn't wait anymore and leaned in for a kiss.

Just when their lips were about to touch, abrupt movement came into San Lang. He brought up his arms to wrap them around Xie Lian in a bruising hug and ducked his head to bury his face in Xie Lian's shoulder. There, he stayed, holding on as hard as he could, out of reach for kisses, but still asking for comfort.

Xie Lian got over his surprise and breathed a fond, amused laugh. He slung his arms around San Lang in return and patted his head. "So shy," he murmured, but San Lang only held on tighter.

It was alright. They had time, after all. Xie Lian had waited this long; what was a while longer?

So he held him patiently, until eventually, San Lang relaxed a bit. Only then could Xie Lian extract himself. "Let's go to bed," he said with a smile. "It's been a long day. You must be tired."

San Lang nodded silently, and they got up to get ready.

Before long, they lay on the straw mat, side by side, the moon throwing long silvery lines through the cracks in the walls. One such line landed on San Lang's face, lighting up his eye enough to reveal its true color: a dark brown instead of its usual black.

Xie Lian smiled thoughtfully. How strange. He had never noticed before.

"Goodnight, San Lang," he said quietly.

"Goodnight, Gege."

He rolled over like always, pushing San Lang onto his side so his back was to Xie Lian's front, and threw his arm over his waist to pull him closer.

At first, San Lang was tense against him, and Xie Lian already wanted to check if anything was wrong. But, before long, he relaxed, and they settled in to sleep.

 

When he woke up, he was alone. He rolled over onto his back and blinked at the ceiling. Sunlight was streaming into the shrine, and he took a deep breath.

It was quiet. He tried to summon San Lang to his side, and he appeared, soft and faded, for just a moment until the sound of sweeping came from outside and he dispersed like a wisp of smoke.

Xie Lian furrowed his brows and got up. He pulled at his robes until they sat right and walked to the door. On the way, something caught his eye. He stopped and turned to the altar.

Above the altar hung a scroll of paper. Painted on it was the crown prince of Xian Le, in his god-pleasing prince costume, a sword in one hand and a flower in the other.

Xie Lian froze. For a long moment, he just stared at it. Then, slowly, he walked over. The parchment was firm and thick under his fingers, the paint rough. He brought his fingers to his nose and sniffed. They smelled like paint.

His mind was blank, but the fine hairs on his nape stood on end, and a second later, the skin of his back started prickling with fear.

He told himself that someone could have snuck into the shrine at night and hung up the painting, but immediately afterward, he thought of San Lang standing before him the day before, earnestly offering to paint him.

Xie Lian had deceived himself for years, and while he could believe that it was possible for him to suddenly be able to touch San Lang, even he knew that the thing before him was very much impossible.

He could not have imagined this. He could barely remember the paintings of his youth, but he knew none of them had been like this. They had been less fluid, less colorful. This was a new style that Xie Lian had never seen before, and he felt his breath grow short with fear.

There was something wrong here.

He turned around stiffly, his limbs numb, and walked out into the garden, where San Lang was sweeping leaves. He looked as lovely as ever, relaxed and content, and he looked up at Xie Lian with a smile when he heard him coming.

He couldn't have looked any different from the day before, but suddenly, Xie Lian wasn't that sure anymore. Had his smile always tilted like that, his hair always fallen just so? He couldn't say anymore.

It was like he was looking at a stranger, and the helpless uncertainty of it made him feel like the ground had been pulled out from underneath his feet.

San Lang's smile faded when he took in Xie Lian's expression. "Gege? Are you alright?"

The familiar voice restored some of his calm, and Xie Lian settled down with a gasping breath. "Alright," he muttered. "I'm alright." San Lang's expression only got more concerned, his mouth a bitter little twist. He suffered with Xie Lian as he always did, and the familiar sight of that calmed Xie Lian's heart and let him push the doubts down again.

He smiled weakly at San Lang, ignoring the lingering anxiety in the back of his mind. "You swept the leaves," he said, louder. He wondered if he would feel the crunch of leaves underneath his feet, where he only saw clear grass right now.

Just how far gone was he?

"I did. Gege, did you see—"

Desperate to interrupt him, Xie Lian quickly pointed to San Lang's ponytail, which was tied a bit crooked. "San Lang, your ponytail is all askew. Let me… Let me help you with it?"

San Lang had paused when Xie Lian spoke over him and now simply nodded, so Xie Lian led him to a chair and sat him down. The tie was loosened, letting San Lang's hair fall down his shoulders, and Xie Lian marveled at its softness as he gathered it up.

How many times had he imagined touching it over the years, wondering how it would feel? Now he could touch, and the wonder and gratitude blocked out the last of the doubt.

In the end, he might have gotten a bit too distracted. The ponytail was more lopsided than before. But, before he could try again, San Lang jumped up with a nervous, quick smile and danced out of reach.

"San Lang," Xie Lian cried, "wait! I'm afraid… Well, it's quite—"

San Lang reached up and felt around until his fingers found the crooked thing. He made a little 'ah' sound before blinking at Xie Lian innocently. "What is it, Gege? It seems fine to me."

Xie Lian rubbed his forehead. "You can't walk around like this. What if someone…" He trailed off. Well, it wasn't like anyone could ever see San Lang except for him, so it was probably fine. "Whatever," he muttered.

He was about to head back into the shrine to take a moment to recover some face, but stopped when he heard footsteps and calls in the distance. A group of villagers was heading up the path to Puqi Shrine, their faces red and excited. The first calls of 'Great Immortal' reached Xie Lian, and he closed his eyes with a sigh.

The old cart driver had blabbed.

 

When the villagers were gone, Xie Lian had more water chestnuts, fruits, and vegetables than he knew what to do with and was feeling quite thoroughly embarrassed.

"Gege is so popular," San Lang said from where he was sitting beside the altar.

Xie Lian snorted and started sweeping the dirt out the door. San Lang got up and followed him. He came to a halt in the doorway, thoughtfully staring at the curtain that had been hung up in place of a door.

"What is it?" Xie Lian asked.

San Lang pursed his lips into a thoughtful pout before looking up and smiling at Xie Lian. "I'm going to head out for a bit."

Xie Lian gave an incredulous laugh, but then San Lang really stepped past him and walked through the garden towards the gate. Seeing this, panic shot through Xie Lian.

He could deal with San Lang being strange and everything about him changing. But if he was going to develop enough agency to make off on his own, then… Then Xie Lian really wouldn't know what to do!

He couldn't stop his voice from going high with fear as he called after him, "San Lang, where are you going?"

San Lang stopped and turned around with a slightly confused expression. "Don't worry, Gege, I'll be back soon."

No. No, that really went too far. Hua Cheng could paint as many portraits as he wanted, do as many impossible things, but he couldn't leave Xie Lian. He couldn't just walk off and away from him to do whatever he wanted; he was Xie Lian's!

The laugh that slipped from his lips was hysterical, and Xie Lian quickly clamped his mouth shut. "There's no need to leave," he said quickly, as he hurried after San Lang to the gate. "If you need anything, we can go together!"

San Lang silently stared at him, his face blank, and suddenly, Xie Lian felt embarrassed. He knew he was clingy; he knew that he needed San Lang too much. He still didn't back down. He couldn't.

San Lang slowly let go of the gate door. "If Gege doesn't want me to leave, I won't."

"We can go wherever you want later," Xie Lian said, even as he breathed a sigh of relief. "Let me just quickly put away the broom and maybe eat some breakfast, alright?"

He took San Lang's hand and pulled him back into the shrine. Maybe he held on too tight, felt too much relief, but if it was noticeable, San Lang didn't say anything.

Once inside, they sat down, and he ate breakfast. For the first time in decades, Xie Lian wondered whether he should offer San Lang some food. Would it vanish as he ate it? The leaves were still raked, and the portrait still hung on the wall.

But how…

Xie Lian shook his head. It didn't matter. As long as San Lang stayed, nothing else mattered.

They chatted for a while longer, and it was almost noon when there was another commotion. Both of them raised their heads and shared a look before a loud knocking came from the door.

“Great immortal, something’s happened! Please help!”

Xie Lian opened the door and saw a group of villagers in front of the shrine. The Chief called out in relief. “Great immortal, this man is dying! Please, can you save him?”

When he heard this, Xie Lian rushed to the group of villagers standing in a circle around what appeared to be a cultivator. He was unkempt and disheveled, with sand all over him, and his robes and shoes were tattered. It seemed he had been running for a long time before collapsing in the village, where the villagers brought him to Puqi Shrine in a hurry.

Xie Lian called out, “Don’t worry, he’s not dead.”

He knelt down and felt the man’s pulse and pressure points. On his body, Xie Lian found several magical accessories, and as he looked at them, he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

Something was wrong about this.

A second later, the cultivator woke up and started asking where he was. The villagers jumped in to answer his questions, and it soon turned out that the man had come from Banyue Pass.

Xie Lian rubbed his chin. It had been a little while since he had been in Banyue. Back then, the country had still been at war with Yong'An. He was afraid he had lost track of what had become of the place after he had been thrown into the river and carried away.

After a while, he took the cultivator inside, reassuring the villagers that he would handle it and shaking off their offers of help.

Inside the shrine, San Lang sat at the table, playing with a pair of chopsticks. He watched carefully as Xie Lian hauled the man to the mat and made him lie down.

Once the cultivator calmed down a bit, he started to talk. Banyue appeared to have changed quite a bit in the two hundred years since Xie Lian had left. Now, it seemed to be the setting of a veritable ghost story, going by the tale the man spun. Disappearances, entire merchant groups going missing, a ghost.

At that point, the feeling that something was amiss grew very strong, but Xie Lian couldn't put his finger on what was bothering him.

Suddenly, San Lang spoke up, “You escaped from the Banyue Pass and never stopped running until now?”

Xie Lian's eyes widened. Of course, that was it! Ah, good, dependable San Lang…

"Yes," the man sighed. "I barely survived!"

Xie Lian gave him a confused look at the strange non-sequitur.

At his back, San Lang hummed doubtfully, and Xie Lian smiled at the cultivator. "You must be thirsty if you ran all this way," he said gently. "I'll get you some water."

He got a bowl of water and placed it in front of the man.

Looking at it, hesitation flashed across his face. Xie Lian stood next to him, hands crossed in his sleeves, waiting patiently.

This man traveled far from the Northwest and was running for his life. He should be starving and thirsty. From the looks of it, it didn’t seem like he ate or drank anything the entire way. Yet, when he woke, all he did was talk, and never once asked for a single drop of water or a bite to eat. He didn't seem hungry when faced with the food and water on the altar after entering the shrine. He didn’t even spare a look at any of them.

Seeing that Xie Lian hadn't even been cooking, this was very suspicious.

Under Xie Lian’s and San Lang’s gaze, the cultivator held up the water bowl to his lips and bent over to slowly gulp the water down. He did not look as if he was satisfying his thirst. Instead, he looked afraid.

As he drank, Xie Lian could hear splashing sounds, as if water was being poured into an empty bottle. It confirmed his suspicion.

He seized the man’s arm. “You don’t have to drink anymore.”

The cultivator’s hand trembled as he looked at him in bewilderment.

“Drinking wouldn’t help anyway, right?” Xie Lian said with a smile.

The man’s expression instantly changed upon hearing this. He unsheathed his sword and swung it towards Xie Lian. Without changing his stance, Xie Lian raised his hand and easily flicked the sword aside.

Seeing that Xie Lian was still tightly gripping onto his hand, the cultivator gritted his teeth and extracted it from his hold.

Xie Lian felt the arm in his grip suddenly go limp as it slipped away from his palm. The moment the cultivator broke free, he ran towards the door, but Xie Lian wasn’t concerned. Ruoye would be able to drag him back instantly even if he fled a good distance away. But just as he raised his hand to release Ruoye, a sharp blast of air whipped by him.

It was as if someone had shot an arrow behind him. It pierced the man through his stomach and nailed him to the door. Xie Lian looked over, and the arrow in question turned out to be a chopstick.

It was the chopstick San Lang had just been playing with.

He slowly turned around.

San Lang stood up from the altar and walked past him to pull the chopstick out of the man. San Lang waved the chopstick at Xie Lian and said, “This got dirty. I’m going to throw it out.”

Once free, the man, or rather the hollow puppet, sank down to the floor, the water he had just drunk flowing out of his wound.

Xie Lian blindly stared at the spreading water puddle, a buzzing sound in his ears.

San Lang knelt down next to the deflated puppet, curiously poking it with the chopstick. "This is a rather interesting shell."

Xie Lian smiled. "Hm, why is that?"

Just a few seconds ago, everything had been more or less alright. Then, San Lang had thrown a chopstick, and it had actually managed to touch a thing that Xie Lian knew was real. His smile became a little wider, disbelieving.

The chopstick hadn't been thrown by Xie Lian. Ruoye was still secure under his robes. Except for the puppet, there was no one else in the shrine, was there?

San Lang looked up and blinked slowly when he saw Xie Lian's expression. "Are you happy, Gege?"

Xie Lian gave a noncommittal hum. "Excuse me for a moment, I need to report this."

He stepped aside and over to the side of the room, where he lifted two fingers to his temple. Instead of immediately calling out Ling Wen's password, however, he took stock of his remaining qi and determined that he still had enough left. Then, he entered the heavenly communication array and, at the same time, quickly and subtly, cast a thin layer of qi over the whole shrine.

The communication array was livelier than usual, and it was not because of gods bustling around with official duties. Rather, it seemed everyone was playing some sort of game, going by all the laughing and shouting. Xie Lian was taken aback enough that he momentarily forgot about his other task.

Just then, Ling Wen reached out to him. “Your Highness is back? How were your days down in the mortal realm?”

“It’s alright, not too bad. What’s everyone doing? There seems to be a celebration?” Xie Lian asked.

“The Wind Master has just returned and is giving away merits. Why don’t you go and see if you can grab any?”

In the background, he could hear the other officials exclaiming about the merits they caught and thanking the Wind Master. Xie Lian didn't know how we would even join, nor did he think he would be welcome, so he concentrated on examining the array he had cast over the shrine. He could feel himself, of course, the fading wisps of the puppet's magic where it lay, a small snake underneath the stairs, a few bugs here and there, and, oh…

There was something where San Lang stood, casually leaning against the wall. The qi was muted, as though covered by a thick blanket, but from what Xie Lian could tell, it didn't seem like the qi of a human, nor did it feel particularly resentful.

He dropped the array with a baffled expression.

"Your Highness?" Ling Wen asked. "Are you still there?"

"Ah, yes, sorry. Has anyone here heard about what's happening at Banyue Pass?" In the back of his mind, his thoughts were racing. How…

Sudden silence ensued in the communication array, and, despite his distraction, Xie Lian felt a little depressed. This was important business; How come no one bothered to at least try to help?

Then, the Wind Master gave out more merits, and the other gods got so distracted that Xie Lian knew it was futile to ask any more.

He was about to exit the communication array when Ling Wen reached out to him privately. He reported what had happened to her, but she only advised him to stay away from the matter. He finally understood that this was a sensitive topic, so he thanked her and didn't pry any further.

When he finally left the communication array, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. So many mysteries. It seemed like he would have to investigate Banyue Pass himself.

As for San Lang…

He looked up and saw that San Lang had already been looking at him with a guarded expression. For a moment, a truly riotous thought occurred to Xie Lian. What if, by loving and cultivating him for so long, Xie Lian had somehow made San Lang real? What if, when he ascended again, his will had somehow become reality?

But he discarded the thought again just as fast. Even if something like this was possible, and that was a big if, qi didn't come out of nowhere. San Lang wouldn't have been able to cultivate any presence at all without Xie Lian feeding him a steady supply of qi, and giving him a focal point, neither of which he had done, or even been able to do.

Which meant that, if San Lang had any developed qi signature at all, and Xie Lian hadn't given him one, then—

A knock came from the door.

Xie Lian wanted to groan. Sometimes, he went unbothered for years on end, and then suddenly, everyone broke down his door on the same day. He looked at San Lang, expecting him to express Xie Lian's annoyance and beg him to just ignore the visitors, but San Lang's face was inscrutable.

Unsettled again, Xie Lian went to open the door.

Two handsome young men stood in his doorway, both clothed in black. They were Fu Yao and Nan Feng.

“You two again...”

Fu Yao rolled his eyes, and Nan Feng blurted, “You’re going to Banyue Pass, aren’t you?”

“Where did you hear that?” Xie Lian wondered.

Nan Feng said, “Some officials were talking about it. I heard that you asked about Banyue Pass in the communication array today.”

Xie Lian realized what they were there for and clasped his hands in his sleeves. “I see. You are volunteering again, I take it?”

Both junior officials’ expressions twisted as though they had a toothache. “Yes.”

Xie Lian couldn’t help but smile and said, “I get it. But I want you two to know that, should there be any issues or crises on the way, you’re welcome to run away any time.”

Xie Lian stepped aside to invite them inside to discuss the journey in detail. But when the two entered the shrine, their initially grim faces instantly turned ashen.

Nan Feng charged in, pushed Xie Lian behind him, and shouted, “Stand back!”

“What’s wrong?” Xie Lian asked, startled.

San Lang had sat down while Xie Lian had greeted their guests. He now spread his hands open and asked innocently, “Yes, what’s wrong?”

Fu Yao furrowed his brows and demanded, “Who are you?”

Xie Lian closed the door and joined them, looking at them in confusion. "Who are you talking to?"

Fu Yao looked at Xie Lian as if he were crazy and pointed directly at San Lang. "Him?! Do you not see him?"

Xie Lian almost wanted to laugh at the irony. But he looked at Fu Yao and Nan Feng, both staring at San Lang with alarmed faces, and back to San Lang, who had a careless smile on his face, and then it slowly dawned on him that this was really happening.

All the suspicion and worry he had stuffed into the deepest part of his mind broke free, and cold fear ran down his back.

When he spoke, he couldn't manage more than a choked whisper. "You can see him?"

 

 

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed! Next chapter, shit's gonna hit the fan:)
Have a nice day!

Chapter 4

Notes:

This chapter was betaed by FarmerDuck. She was very good and didn't change any Americanisms, not even 'different than'<3

Warnings for violence, blood, injuries, and mental breakdowns! Let me know if I forgot something!

Have fun lol

 

Deadly silence reigned after his question, and San Lang, Nan Feng and Fu Yao all slowly turned to look at him. Concern clouded their faces when they realized he was serious.

"What do you mean?" Fu Yao said tentatively, seemingly unable to decide whether to look more disturbed or derisive. "He's sitting right there, isn't he? Why wouldn't we see him?"

Xie Lian took a step back and forced his breath to even out and his hands to relax. He knew how to handle a panic attack, and he was doing his best now not to get swept up by it. In the back of his mind, however, his thoughts were racing.

He had known something was wrong. He had known and deliberately ignored it, hoping that things would go back to normal, as if he were a scared child hiding under a blanket.

But things were not going to return to normal, and it was time that Xie Lian admitted it to himself.

"Nan Feng," he said gently, and Nan Feng stood at attention as if he had shouted it instead. "Tell me why you were shocked to see him. Just who is sitting there in my chair?"

He had expected Nan Feng to jump at the chance to tell him, but instead, he hesitated, silently shifting where he stood and throwing an unsure glance at Fu Yao.

San Lang—or rather, that thing that looked like San Lang—stood and took a step towards Xie Lian. He tried to smile, but it ended up looking more like an uncomfortable, anxious grimace. "Gege, what are you talking about? You know me, don't you?"

A slow, crawling rage trickled through Xie Lian's body. How dare he pretend even now, when the game was already up? What had he done to the real Sa—But no, the real San Lang wasn't… He was only…

"He looks suspiciously like someone we know, that's all," Fu Yao said coldly.

"That's funny," San Lang immediately retorted, his smile turning sharp. "You look rather familiar, too."

Fu Yao's mouth snapped shut, and he glared at San Lang.

In any other situation, Xie Lian would have respected their badly hidden secrets and let them act out their little play. Now, though, his patience was already stretched thin, and he needed to know what was real.

"Nan Feng, Fu Yao," he said, and his voice came out low and threatening, "I don't think you understand. You will tell me who this is, or I will make you tell me. And trust me, you don’t want that."

"Gege…" San Lang took another step closer, his hands placatingly held in front of him.

Xie Lian flicked his arm out to the side, and Ruoye shot out of his sleeve, flying over to Fu Yao and wrapping its end around the hilt of his sword. It pulled the sword out of the sheath in a controlled movement and retracted until it landed smoothly in Xie Lian's hand.

By the time Fu Yao reacted, Xie Lian already had it pointed at San Lang's throat.

San Lang's eyes grew wide, and he retreated until the backs of his knees hit the altar. "I don't—"

"Are you going to tell me who or what you really are?" Xie Lian said, still in the same low tone.

San Lang visibly hesitated, and after a few seconds had passed, it became clear he was not going to tell him.

Xie Lian quietly snorted. "Be quiet, then." He glanced over at the two officials. "You, talk."

They had been looking at them with wide eyes, but now, Nan Feng caught himself and grimaced. "He might be dangerous."

Xie Lian waited.

Nan Feng exhaled, and the breath whistled through his clenched teeth. "He looks a lot like a ghost we know."

"A ghost? Then why are you so reluctant to say it?"

Behind Nan Feng, Fu Yao threw his hands up in exasperation. "Are you daft? Didn't we already warn you about him? You literally met him just a few days ago!"

It took Xie Lian a moment. But then he remembered: a slender hand, red robes, a walk through a forest dripping with blood. The gods' fear when he had mentioned silver ghost butterflies. A ghost king, Hua Cheng.

But how was that possible? Yes, powerful ghosts could take on any appearance they wanted; Xie Lian had learned that the hard way. That wasn't the issue. The issue was that no one should have been able to know how San Lang looked, unless they were somehow able to look into his head. And wasn't that a frightening prospect, indeed.

"If you are Hua Cheng," Xie Lian considered out loud, "then how did you know about San Lang?"

Hua Cheng's mouth twitched up into a slight, disbelieving smile, but there was no mirth or triumph in it, and it faded again just as fast. "How did I know about… But Dianxia, I am San Lang."

Xie Lian pressed his lips together, trying not to let his anger show. But before he could say anything, Hua Cheng tilted his head curiously and said, "I have been trying to figure it out since we met; where you could possibly know me from. You seemed to expect me, knew my name and everything about me. I briefly wondered if you might have seen the future, and that was why you knew me so well. But there were some things you got wrong, and you seemed to remember things that I have no recollection of."

He reached up and rubbed the end of his ponytail between his fingertips in a subconscious gesture. His eyes were far away. "But how could there be another San Lang out there that looks and speaks exactly like me? The possibility is too slim. So really, no matter how much I think about it, I can't come up with an explanation. If you could tell me what you know, Dianxia, I promise I will do my utmost to figure it out, though."

No matter how much Xie Lian tried to stay angry, Hua Cheng's speech had taken the wind out of his sails. Questions were swarming his head, and he lowered the sword just a little as he tried to process what he had heard. Beside him, Nan Feng and Fu Yao grew agitated again and started arguing with Hua Cheng, but Xie Lian barely heard them.

Hua Cheng couldn't be San Lang, for one simple reason. San Lang wasn't re—But no, that wasn't right. San Lang was real. It was just that San Lang existed for him only. He was real to Xie Lian; it was just that other people couldn't see or hear him.

Additionally, San Lang was real, but he had also been created by Xie Lian. And that meant that Hua Cheng couldn't be him.

He had never explained the situation with San Lang to anyone out loud before. Now that he had that opportunity, he found his tongue tied. They wouldn't understand. They would think San Lang wasn't real and Xie Lian couldn't—

But Hua Cheng was looking at him with a patient expression, paying no attention to Nan Feng and Fu Yao, who were still yelling at him. He genuinely seemed to be just as confused about what was going on as Xie Lian.

He had expected to face an enemy, but if Hua Cheng truly wasn't behind this, then that meant Xie Lian would have to tell him what he knew, so that they could figure it out together.

But he couldn't do it with Nan Feng and Fu Yao there.

"Would you two mind stepping outside for a moment while we talk?" He forced himself to smile, but feared it came out looking more like a grimace.

"What? No, we're not just going to leave you with him!"

Xie Lian suppressed a sigh. This time, they were a bit better prepared for Ruoye to burst from Xie Lian's sleeve, but they still weren't fast enough to avoid it as it wrapped itself around them and tied them together. "Hey, what—"

"Terribly sorry about this," Xie Lian said, as Ruoye dragged the two struggling officials outside. "But I really do need a moment alone with Hua Cheng."

When they were alone, he finally allowed himself to sigh. He had been too distracted to keep holding the sword up, and now it was pointing more towards the floor than Hua Cheng. He lowered it fully, but didn't put it away.

Hua Cheng was leaning back against the altar, but his shoulders were stiff. Nervous. Maybe it had been a bad idea to send Ruoye away, but Xie Lian suspected that if Hua Cheng decided to attack him, Ruoye wouldn't be of much help anyway.

"You don't want them to hear what you have to say, Dianxia?"

Xie Lian cleared his throat. He didn't want to talk about it at all, but if he had to, then the fewer people who heard it, the better. "You asked me where I know San Lang from. I will tell you, but I must also reiterate that you can't be him."

Hua Cheng slowly crossed his arms. "Why is that?"

Xie Lian slowly started to pace the shrine and hoped Hua Cheng wouldn't notice his flushed face. "For a few hundred years now, I've had a companion. He's always there, even if other people can't see him. He speaks to me and keeps me company. His name is San Lang, of course, and somehow, he looks exactly like you," Xie Lian gestured at Hua Cheng. "So I would be curious to know how you managed that."

"A companion that other people can't see," Hua Cheng repeated with furrowed brows.

Xie Lian's face became even warmer. "A lot of people think I'm crazy." He wanted to say that he wasn't, but he wasn't so sure that he wouldn't be lying.

Hua Cheng shook his head. "So how did it start? When did you first meet this San Lang?"

It was strange. Xie Lian had spent decades without thinking of their first meeting. Now, he had been reminded of it twice in that many days. Still, it was somewhat awkward to discuss it.

He forced himself to, anyway. "It was a dream. I saw him in a dream after I… after a very unpleasant period in my life. Afterwards, he stayed with me."

Hua Cheng pushed himself off the altar and walked over to the kitchen area with a ponderous look on his face. Xie Lian closely watched him as he rubbed his thumb over the rim of a bowl, prepared to fend off any surprise attack. But Hua Cheng only asked, "Could you describe the dream in more detail?"

Xie Lian pressed his lips together. He could. The question was whether he wanted to, now that he knew that it wasn't San Lang asking. Just the thought of what he had told Hua Cheng before, what he had done—

He lowered his face, hoping his shame wouldn't be too obvious.

Hua Cheng must have noticed some of it anyway, because he turned around, setting the bowl back on the table. "I know it must be… No. Dianxia, I must apologize. I should have notified you immediately when I noticed that something was off. I wasn't sure what was happening, and so I played along, hoping to find out more, but I see now that I was wrong. I'm truly very sorry."

The apology took some of the sting out of what Xie Lian was feeling. He shook his head slightly. "It's alright. I understand that you are just as confused as I am. I don't blame you."

Still, Hua Cheng didn't look any less regretful. Xie Lian knew that it wasn't San Lang standing before him, but seeing such an expression on his familiar face made him want to make it better anyway. So he overcame his shame and embarrassment, something he had a lot of practice in, and haltingly started talking.

"Nothing much happened in it," he said, and Hua Cheng looked up in surprise. "It was just us—well, me and San Lang—lying in a meadow. The grass must have been golden, and I could hear birds in the distance. I don't believe I had ever seen him before, but he looked just like you do right now."

As he spoke, he lost himself a little in the memory. Hua Cheng stood up straight and looked at him attentively, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"You told me your name, and called me Gege. We talked for a long time and you… You were willful and funny and arrogant and shy in turns. But underneath it all, you looked at me so—" Xie Lian abruptly closed his mouth as he realized that he had been using 'you' all this time, as if Hua Cheng was really San Lang.

"He," he corrected himself with a grimace. "Underneath all that, San Lang looked at me with devotion and perhaps admiration." It seemed almost shameful to say it. Who would feel devotion or admiration for Xie Lian? Certainly no one would believe it looking at his dusty, dirty robes, his rough hands, and tired face. But Hua Cheng didn't seem disbelieving or amused; he just continued listening.

"I kissed him," Xie Lian choked out after a long moment, covering his face with his free hand despite the threat Hua Cheng still presented. "He was so shy, he tried to stop me at first. He said something, I don't remember, about how he's not worthy or—"

All this time, Hua Cheng had looked thoughtful or confused or concentrated. But now, suddenly, his eyes grew wide and he froze where he stood. After a long moment, he whispered, "It's not appropriate to make you do this in my dreams."

"Yes," Xie Lian said excitedly. "Yes, that's what he said!"

Then, he froze as well.

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng stared at each other.

"How did you know that?" he breathed.

At his side, Hua Cheng's hand curled into a fist. "I had the same dream," he said, and his voice came out sounding strange. "Centuries ago. My dreams aren't normally very clear or detailed, but this one felt so real that I remember it even now."

It was impossible.

"You were asleep in the grass, and I woke you. I knew it was just a dream, but you were more real than I ever managed to envision you before. There were some little imperfections I had never noticed in the past, and your voice… I had forgotten how your voice sounded." Hua Cheng's eyes were wide and frantic. "When I had dreamed of you before, you were always distant, an unreachable figure or a cold statue. But in that dream, you were warm and close, and you teased and cajoled me. To get to hear you talk about your thoughts and your past, and then, when you kissed me, I—" He shook his head. "I hated myself for my poor self-control when I woke up, but if you remember this too, if it was really you—I thought it was just a dream."

Xie Lian reeled, trying to come to terms with everything Hua Cheng had said. It had been real. The dream where they first met; it had been real. But that meant…

San Lang was real, and he was standing before him.

The words were familiar. Xie Lian had thought them a thousand times before. And yet, this time, they filled him with horror instead of comfort.

Xie Lian might have tried his hardest to deceive himself, but the truth was that he wasn't completely delusional. To a degree, he could admit to himself that San Lang wasn't real.

There was comfort in that, too. San Lang not being real also meant that he would never be able to leave Xie Lian. All he could do was love him for as long as Xie Lian lived. He would be unhurt and unchanged and there for him without ever asking for anything in return. Xie Lian didn't need to worry about being unlovable or making a mistake, or being unable to protect him.

If San Lang was real…

He could feel his breathing speed up. This time, there was no holding back the panic. He had been wary and a bit scared before, knowing that Hua Cheng had been impersonating San Lang. But at least he had been secure in the knowledge that San Lang was still there, waiting for him to realize and call him back. Now, he looked at Hua Cheng—no, it was San Lang after all—who was looking back at him expectantly, vulnerably, and he felt sick with fear and betrayal.

If San Lang was real, if this was San Lang, then that meant San Lang didn't love him. It meant he could leave him.

Suddenly, Xie Lian choked out a laugh. "You are San Lang?"

"Yes," Hua Cheng said. "I'm San Lang. Dianxia, I'm sorry. I didn't want… But yes. It was me."

His laughter turned to gasping. Then, Xie Lian abruptly got angry.

No. Hua Cheng didn't get to take this away from him. He didn't get to just intrude into his life and take San Lang away from him. Maybe once, they had shared a dream. Maybe Hua Cheng was the foundation San Lang had been built on. Either way, San Lang was his now, and Hua Cheng had no more claim to him.

Anger and helplessness warred inside him, and Xie Lian gripped his sword tighter. No, Hua Cheng didn't get to take this away from him. He wasn't San Lang. Not Xie Lian's San Lang, anyway.

"Leave," he whispered.

Hua Cheng tensed. "What?"

Suddenly, Xie Lian couldn't take it anymore. His next words came out as a scream. "Leave! I want you to leave!" He raised the sword and pointed it at Hua Cheng again. "I never want to see you again! Fucking leave!"

"No, listen—" Instead of leaving, Hua Cheng stepped closer with a desperate expression.

Xie Lian swung the sword at him, and Hua Cheng had to quickly duck beneath the blade. "Dianxia, I—"

But Xie Lian was done talking. If Hua Cheng didn't want to leave, he would make him. He swung his sword again, lower, and Hua Cheng stepped back to avoid it. But there was no space, and so he toppled the kitchen table. The dishes and vegetables the villagers had brought earlier fell to the floor and rolled under the stove. Somehow, the sight made Xie Lian even angrier.

He advanced after Hua Cheng, but Hua Cheng deftly evaded every jab and slash of his blade. "Didn't you hear me?" Xie Lian asked through gritted teeth. "I said leave!"

"I will," Hua Cheng said grimly, and lifted the chair to block off Xie Lian's next attack. Splinters flew as the sword scraped against its leg. "I will if that is what you really want. But only after I make sure you're alright."

If anything, that spurned Xie Lian on further. His next hit came down with so much force that the chair broke between them. "I don't need your concern," he spat. Hua Cheng let the broken pieces fall to the floor and jumped back to avoid the next swing. "I don't want your concern! I don't want anything from you, do you understand?"

Soon, Hua Cheng was out of space. Xie Lian drove him against a wall and brought the sword forward to stab his shoulder. But Hua Cheng caught the blade with his bare hand and pushed it away. There should have been blood with how deeply the blade's edge had cut, but there was nothing.

Xie Lian dropped the sword when Hua Cheng pushed it away. It fell with a clatter, and Xie Lian used the momentary distraction to get close and bring Hua Cheng down to the ground with him.

Hua Cheng reached up to grab his robes, but strangely he didn't resist when Xie Lian wrapped his hands around his throat. He only held on tighter and looked up at him silently. Xie Lian squeezed.

"I will kill you if you don't leave, do you understand?"

Hua Cheng blinked slowly. Through Xie Lian's fury, a strange thought surfaced; he looked almost peaceful like this.

"I'm already dead," Hua Cheng wheezed with what little air he was allowed.

Xie Lian sneered. "Do you think that'll stop me? I'll find a way to end your existence. You won't be the first ghost I disperse."

Hua Cheng's eyes grew half-lidded. "I lied," he whispered.

Surprised, Xie Lian's hands loosened. Hua Cheng's hands, in return, let go to move down, and for a moment, Xie Lian was blindingly relieved that he was finally starting to defend himself. But instead of pushing him off, Hua Cheng only slipped something over Xie Lian's neck with a quick movement.

He looked down. A thin chain hung from his neck and, dangling from it, a silvery ring.

"I lied. I can't leave," Hua Cheng said softly, finally able to speak without obstruction. "If you want me gone, just disperse me. But don't ask me to leave you."

Suddenly, Xie Lian realized what the ring was. To disperse a ghost, you had to scatter their ashes.

There was no lie in Hua Cheng's face, only open acceptance of whatever Xie Lian decided to do.

He flinched back, letting go of Hua Cheng and scrambling off him. The chain felt like a poisonous snake around his neck, and he panted as he tried to pull it off. It got caught in his hair, and then Hua Cheng was there, stilling his hands and stopping the movement.

They remained like that for a few seconds, frozen and tense, waiting for the other one to move first. But Hua Cheng patiently waited him out and eventually, some of the panic drained from Xie Lian.

"Why," he choked, "Why would you do that?"

Hua Cheng's lips twitched up into a rueful smile. "I never planned on telling you," he said, and the non-sequitur distracted Xie Lian enough to pause for a moment. "But things went a little differently than I anticipated, and I think it's necessary for you to know."

Seeing that Xie Lian had stopped trying to take off the necklace, Hua Cheng let his own hands fall into his lap, and they just sat there, on the floor, too close to each other.

"Haven't you wondered why I already knew you when we shared that dream?"

When would Xie Lian have had the time to question it? With everything that had just happened, he hadn’t had the chance. But now that Hua Cheng mentioned it, he did indeed wonder. During the dream, San Lang had behaved as if he already knew him.

Hua Cheng gave him a smile that was more of a grimace. "We met before, a long time ago."

And, oh, that made something in Xie Lian sit up and listen. Regardless of his anger and despair, this was still San Lang they were talking about. To know that the dream had not in fact been their first meeting…

"When?" Xie Lian rasped.

Hua Cheng hesitated for a long moment, visibly at war with himself. Finally, he said, "Several times, back in Xian Le. The first time, I was just a child. You caught me when I fell from the city wall during the Shangyuan Parade."

Xie Lian started. It had been over eight hundred years ago, but he still remembered it, if vaguely. A small child in red, grubby hands dirtying his robes, Guoshi's disapproval. Try as he might, he couldn't remember the child's name.

That had been San Lang?

"And then again later, a few times," Hua Cheng said quietly, reluctantly. "You won't remember those times, I think. They were brief, and there was a lot going on."

Xie Lian already wanted to deny that, wanted to force him to tell him anyway, but Hua Cheng continued, "Then, one more time, after the fall of Xian Le. I was just a weak ghost back then, hardly worthy of serving you. My performance was pathetic, and I hope you won't think too badly of me because of it."

His bravery seemed to desert him, then, and he fell silent, staring at his tense, clasped hands in his lap.

"Tell me," Xie Lian prompted him, half impatient and half afraid that the answer would be what he was starting to suspect it was.

Hua Cheng was gripping his own hand so hard that his knuckles stood out white. "You called me Wu Ming."

"Ah."

Xie Lian stared into the middle distance. Just like that, all his worst fears were confirmed. So San Lang was Wu Ming.

When he had been silent for a long while, Hua Cheng finally looked up at him. "Dianxia? Are you disappointed?"

He sounded like a child. Xie Lian almost wanted to laugh. Then, he did actually laugh, and Hua Cheng flinched.

"Sorry, sorry," Xie Lian waved him off, gasping heaves wracking his body, "this is just a lot!"

Maybe it had taken saying it out loud, but suddenly, Xie Lian realized that it truly was too much. In the span of only a few minutes, he had learned that San Lang had been replaced, that he was a real person, that he was Wu Ming, who had every reason to hate Xie Lian.

Suddenly, his laughter turned into choked gagging. His cheeks grew wet, and Xie Lian realized that he was crying. How strange. When was the last time he had cried?

Hua Cheng made a concerned noise and reached up to him.

Xie Lian slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me," he gasped, but Hua Cheng didn't listen. He scooted even closer and wrapped his arms around him. Xie Lian struggled, pushed against his chest, and dug his nails into his arms, but Hua Cheng only pulled him closer, until Xie Lian's face was squished against his shoulder.

He opened his mouth and buried his teeth in that shoulder, like a captured, desperate animal. He bit with all his strength and, oh, now there was blood. He pressed his teeth deeper into the flesh until the bite became a mottled, messy wound, and Hua Cheng made a pained noise against his hair. Still, he didn't let go.

When it became clear that Hua Cheng would not release him, Xie Lian relaxed his mouth. Blood ran down his chin, and he smeared it against Hua Cheng's robes. Then, the sobs came, and he brought up his hands to grab Hua Cheng's sides painfully tight.

"You're going to leave me," he keened bitterly. "You left me before."

Hua Cheng curled around him like he wanted to push Xie Lian inside his chest. "I won't," he said fiercely. "I won't leave you."

Xie Lian shook his head, unwilling or unable to believe him. Everyone always left. And now Hua Cheng had taken his only comfort from him, his San Lang, and he grieved him with heaving sobs, and he hated Hua Cheng for it. And yet, he couldn't get his hands to release their grip.

"I'm sorry," Hua Cheng murmured. "I brought you so much pain. You must have been so lonely. I should have found you sooner. I failed, and I'm sorry, Dianxia. I'm so sorry."

Xie Lian only shook his head again, pretending he wasn't listening, unwilling to believe.

But eventually, the tears subsided, and Xie Lian sagged in Hua Cheng's embrace, his forehead against the bloody shoulder, utterly exhausted.

"I loved him, you know?" he whispered.

"I know," Hua Cheng said softly. "I know. I'm sorry."

Xie Lian sighed and fell silent again.

They rested against each other in the quiet of the shrine and, with a distant sort of amusement, Xie Lian remembered Nan Feng and Fu Yao, tied up outside. They probably thought he was dead by now.

"I meant what I said," San Lang said then. "I know that it's not the same, but… I looked for you for a long time. Now that I have found you, I will never leave you again."

Xie Lian stayed quiet. Everyone left, sooner or later. Xie Lian didn't even blame them. It was just how people were. They grew apart, walked different paths, or died.

But there was a small weight around his neck. A ghost's ashes. It had to count for something, at least.

Notes:

From here on, it's only gonna get better (no, genuinely, the comfort part of hurt/comfort is going to start!)
Hope u liked it!
Have a good day<3

Notes:

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