Chapter Text
“Excuse me?”
The shopkeeper paused as he heard a pleasant voice behind him. As he turned around, he was greeted by a tall, slender figure clad in plain white cultivator’s robes, with a farmer’s bamboo hat on his head. The man was smiling, as if he were genuinely glad to see the one in front of him.
“Yeah?” the shopkeeper asked.
“I was wondering about this,” the cultivator said.
He pointed at a pile of trash near the front of the shop — turnip tops, broken ceramic, a toy horse with its head broken off, a wooden bowl and a small pile of scrolls.
“Those?” the shopkeeper said. “Those are just some things I’m throwing out. Just junk.”
“Would you mind if I took some of them?” the cultivator asked.
The shopkeeper frowned, and looked at the junk in confusion. “Well, sure. Take what you want. But you won’t be able to sell those things — the toy’s broken thanks to a clumsy customer, and the scrolls haven’t sold in the months they’ve been here. They’re worthless.”
The man was already gathering up the toy, the bowl and the scrolls, and placing them carefully in a sack he had been carrying on his back. At the same time, a slightly younger man had appeared just behind the cultivator, giving an appraising look at the shop’s contents. He was dressed all in red, his hair in a ponytail, and the shopkeeper could tell from just a glance that his clothing was rich and luxuriant. He probably came from a wealthy family, a rich young master with plenty of money in his pouch.
“Young master!” The shopkeeper rushed over and bowed before him. “Welcome to my shop. Is there anything you would like to see, sir?”
The young man in red gazed at him expressionlessly, as if the shopkeeper had already displeased him in some way. Then he turned to the cultivator and said, “Ready to go, gege?”
“Yes!” The cultivator beamed at him, swinging the sack onto his shoulder. “I think I’m done for today, San Lang.”
The shopkeeper looked at them in confusion. Were these two friends? But the one in white was apparently so poor that he was picking things from the trash, even though his friend was dressed like a young aristocrat. Why didn’t the one in red give his friend some money, if he was that desperate? And since when did wealthy young men spend their time wandering with impoverished cultivators?
He watched as the two walked back out into the street, their heads huddled together as if they were whispering secrets. Suddenly the young man in red used a finger to tip the hat of the young man in white, and he said something with a wicked smile. The cultivator pressed a hand to his mouth, and quickly looked around as if he thought someone might have overheard them.
The shopkeeper shrugged. There were a lot of strange people in this world, and clearly the two of them were among that number. He put the entire situation out of his mind as more customers came in.
*
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, gege,” Hua Cheng said.
“Hmm? Do what?” Xie Lian asked.
“Gather scraps. Anything you need or want — clothes, food, money — I can provide for you. You just need to say the word.” His face was serious, as if he was genuinely worried that Xie Lian didn’t realize that everything he had was at his god’s feet.
Xie Lian smiled brightly. “I know, San Lang. I like doing it. It’s one of the things I’m good at, and I’ve been practicing for hundreds of years. It’s — like a challenge for me.”
A strange expression crossed Hua Cheng’s face, and his steps started to slow. His eyes moved to the sack slung over Xie Lian’s shoulder, with odd shapes curving and jutting through the rough fabric. The crown prince had only been out collecting scraps for a few hours, but had amassed a fairly impressive collection of secondhand odds and ends.
Xie Lian caught his expression out of the corner of his eye. He turned to face Hua Cheng, his smile fading into concern. “San Lang… is something wrong? If you’re bored, we can—“
“I could never be bored with gege,” Hua Cheng said quickly. “I just…” His hands clenched into fists.
Something about his voice made Xie Lian’s heart twist. Swiftly, he turned around and let his sack slide to the grass beside the road, and took a few steps towards Hua Cheng. The ghost king’s expression hadn’t changed much, but there was a look in his eyes as if he had a severe stomachache and was trying to hide his discomfort. It made Xie Lian want to hold him, caress him, comfort him in every way he could think of.
He placed a hand on Hua Cheng’s cheek, gently running his thumb over one high cheekbone. “San Lang… tell me what’s wrong,” he said quietly.
Hua Cheng sighed, and raised one hand to twine his fingers with Xie Lian’s. “I hate the way they look at you, your highness,” he said in a low voice. “I want to tear their heads off when they look at you with contempt or pity… as if you were somehow lower than them—”
“San Lang,” Xie Lian said softly. “It’s okay.”
He leaned closer and pressed his lips to Hua Cheng’s; the ghost king was stiff and tense for a moment, but as Xie Lian's arms wound around him, he softened and leaned into the crown prince's embrace. Xie Lian hadn’t been planning to kiss his beloved just at this moment, but the sound of Hua Cheng wanting to defend him — protect him, even from disdainful glances — had made his heart swell.
The next thing he knew, Hua Cheng was pressing him against a tree trunk, deepening the kiss. The ghost king had taken the form of a willowy teenager of about Xie Lian’s height, but Xie Lian felt like he could lift the prince off his feet easily if he wanted to. Long, slender fingers slid through Xie Lian’s hair, moving up the nape of his neck and cradling his head, so Hua Cheng could kiss him more forcefully.
It was only when Xie Lian heard a wagon rattling by, and the sound of voices, that he suddenly broke the kiss. Hua Cheng’s face was barely separated from his, and he was gazing at Xie Lian with soft, glimmering eyes.
“Someone will see us,” Xie Lian said feebly.
“Does gege want me to stop?” Hua Cheng murmured in a voice that could only be described as seductive.
“I… I…”
“Or does he want San Lang to continue?" Hua Cheng whispered, his lips a breath from Xie Lian’s. “Even if people watch?”
Xie Lian’s back pressed against the tree trunk as he tried to get a coherent word out. But he felt as if his brain was overheating, and all he could do was stammer. He could feel his own embarrassment burning in his cheeks, but Hua Cheng just seemed to be amused by the flush on his face, caressing Xie Lian’s chin with his cool fingers.
Finally, the ghost king lightly brushed his lips over Xie Lian’s, and murmured, “Why don’t we get some dinner, gege?”
“Yes, please,” Xie Lian whispered.
He was so flustered that he nearly forgot his sack, which had been forgotten by the side of the road. As they began walking down the road again, he felt Hua Cheng’s arm slip around him once again. A smile slipped over his lips, and he leaned against his beloved’s shoulder as they left.