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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.

Chapter Text

For twenty-six years, Xie Lian had been sealed into a coffin, with a spike impaling his heart. Gasping and bleeding, unable to die but unable to heal, in agony that never ended, even in his hallucinations and nightmares.

Then, Hua Cheng had saved him.

At first, Xie Lian hadn’t known who this mysterious man who saved him was, or why he had cared for him with such tenderness and devotion. He had known that San Lang was hiding something from him, but at first, he had simply tried to recover from a wound that would have killed a mortal long ago, and which was enough to critically injure a banished god. Every step of the way, San Lang had been at his side, whether it was helping him dress himself, eat, or consoling him after nightmares. Eventually, San Lang admitted that he was actually Hua Cheng, a Supreme ghost king who ruled over a city of ghosts and was powerful enough to topple gods.

As the days passed, Xie Lian found himself falling in love with his benefactor. He hadn’t realized that it was happening at first. He had just known that he would be miserable when he left Hua Cheng’s home, and when he heard Hua Cheng describe the beloved person that he would do anything for, he had felt as though his heart was breaking.

It wasn’t until he had followed Hua Cheng to a far-off cave that he had realized who that beloved person was. It had been filled with statues of Xie Lian, and paintings stretching back five hundred years… revealing that Hua Cheng had once been a child that Xie Lian had rescued during the Shangyuan Festival. As the years had gone by, and Xie Lian ascended and then fell from grace, Hua Cheng had followed him, his devotion unwavering and deepening to the point of obsession. For five hundred years. He hadn’t just loved Xie Lian — he worshiped him.

Xie Lian still remembered Hua Cheng’s face as he had waited, dreading the rejection that he had been sure would come. More powerful than many of the gods, an ancient and powerful ghost… and his heart had been as fragile as a soap bubble between Xie Lian’s fingers. Instead, Xie Lian had begged Hua Cheng to kiss him… and Hua Cheng had eagerly obeyed.

And since that day, they had been inseparable.

That had been six months ago.

*

“What do you want to eat, gege?” Hua Cheng asked.

He no longer looked like a youth of sixteen or seventeen, a form he often took when he and Xie Lian explored the mortal realm. Instead, he appeared in his true form, which was also Xie Lian’s favorite — a tall, lean young man with unbound black hair and elegant features, dressed in clothes the color of autumn maple leaves. The greatest difference was his right eye, which was now hidden by a black patch.

“I’m not sure,” Xie Lian said, glancing around at other tables to see what other patrons were eating. “I haven’t been in a place like this for a very long time.”

“Well, then…” Hua Cheng said, with a slightly devilish smile.

He snapped his fingers, and a waiter immediately rushed over. “Bring us one of everything you make,” he ordered.

“San Lang!” Xie Lian cried. “I can’t eat that much!”

“You don’t have to finish,” Hua Cheng assured him. “Just eat what you like, and ignore what you don’t.”

He placed a hand on Xie Lian’s, and lightly twined their fingers together. Xie Lian started to protest again, but then he saw the look in Hua Cheng’s eye, and felt heat flooding into his cheeks again. Hua Cheng probably wouldn’t kiss him in a crowded restaurant — probably, unless Xie Lian asked him — but it was abundantly clear that he wanted to.

Flustered, Xie Lian lowered his eyes, but clasped his fingers tightly around Hua Cheng’s hand. He still wasn’t used to Hua Cheng looking at him that way, and sometimes it caught him off guard. He was with someone who loved him, treasured him, adored him as if he were still a god… and it felt like something that should have happened to someone else.

He had known what it was like to be loved and worshiped when he was young and naive. Throughout his childhood and youth, he had been surrounded by people who thought he was a shining jewel. When he had ascended to godhood, his people had worshiped him, erecting countless temples and shrines to the prince who had captured their hearts.

Then love had turned to hate, and those that had worshiped him looted his temples and spat on his statues. His friends had left, and his parents had killed themselves, leaving him with nothing but sorrow, rage and remorse. For five hundred years, Xie Lian had drifted through his immortal life, without love of any kind touching him. He had become used to being alone, to having no one in his life who cared about him. He no longer had thought about it.

But someone had loved him all that time. He just hadn’t known it.

The waiters brought over several dishes, so many that they nearly overflowed from the table. Xie Lian thanked them profusely, and then wavered over what foods to try. It reminded him of the first real dinner that he and Hua Cheng had had together — Hua Cheng had ordered some of everything on that occasion as well, and had even fed Xie Lian with his own chopsticks.

“How does that one taste, gege?” Hua Cheng asked, as Xie Lian tried a pork dish with a spicy sauce.

“It’s good,” Xie Lian said after swallowing. “San Lang, have some.”

“Just a taste,” Hua Cheng said, with a wicked smile.

Before Xie Lian could react, Hua Cheng leaned over towards him, close enough that Xie Lian could feel his eyelashes brush against his cheek. Then he felt something cool and wet pass over his lips, just briefly enough to clean traces of the sauce from his mouth.

Then Hua Cheng settled back on his seat cushion, smiling with satisfaction. “Delicious,” he said in a low voice.

Xie Lian could only hide his burning face behind his hands.

“Gege,” that deep voice murmured, close to his ear. “I won’t do it again — not in public, at least. Please, look at me.”

Gentle hands took Xie Lian’s, and pulled them away from his face. As he opened his eyes, he felt cool lips touching one burning cheek, and gentle fingers touching the other. Hua Cheng’s raven-black hair was brushing against his throat, and the red bead at the end of his thin braid tapped lightly against Xie Lian’s jaw.

For a moment, he forgot that they were in a crowded restaurant, surrounded by strange people. A smile crossed his face, and he tilted his face towards Hua Cheng so that the kiss would linger a little longer.

“You look so beautiful when you blush, gege,” Hua Cheng whispered. His fingers skimmed Xie Lian’s hair before he settled back in his own seat, and gazed at the crown prince while they ate.

Chapter Text

When Paradise Manor had been built, Hua Cheng had ordered a palatial bedroom built, and had filled it with a dark wooden bed large enough for seven or eight people to lie alongside each other. Crimson silk sheets, sheer bed curtains and hanging strands of beads and pearls, and soft candles and lanterns casting a gentle glow over the shadowy room.

Until six months ago, he had never slept a single night in that bed. It wasn’t really for him — it was for Xie Lian, and the seemingly impossible hope that one day Hua Cheng would share it with him.

Now, evenings were his favorite time of the day.

As he moved towards the bed, Hua Cheng willed his crimson robes to be replaced by sleeping robes of a deeper red. His vambraces, jewelry and boots vanished altogether, leaving him barefoot as he climbed onto the bed. His long, lean body stretched languidly across the rumpled coverlet, with his dark hair sliding over one broad shoulder.

His current position allowed him the perfect view of the doorway. A moment later, Xie Lian walked into the room, his skin slightly flushed, his hair still slightly tangled and damp from his bath, and his sleeping robe clinging slightly to the contours of his body. He looked bewitching — all the more so because he was unaware of how beautiful he truly was. He looked exactly the way he had on the day when Hua Cheng had first fallen in love with him.

Humming softly under his breath, Xie Lian seated himself on the edge of the bed and began combing his hair. “San Lang,” he said quietly. “Do you think we could practice tomorrow?”

“If that is what gege wants,” Hua Cheng said, sliding down beside him. “What sword will you use tomorrow?”

“I thought I might use the green one,” Xie Lian said contemplatively. “You might want to try the silver one with the — ow!” He winced as the comb struck a snarl.

Immediately Hua Cheng’s slender fingers caught the tangle of hair, and carefully began unknotting it. When the snarl had been tamed, he gently placed one hand over the comb in Xie Lian’s hand. “Let me, gege,” he murmured.

Xie Lian smiled softly, and tilted his head backwards, letting his damp hair fall down his back. Hua Cheng carefully passed the comb through each lock, and gently worked loose every knot or tangle. His fingers brushed Xie Lian’s throat and scalp. As his hair was combed, Xie Lian tilted his head further, and closed his eyes as if the combing was pleasurable for him.

“San Lang is so good to me,” Xie Lian murmured.

“It’s what gege deserves,” Hua Cheng replied.

Then his fingers grazed the back of Xie Lian’s neck, and he felt a small stab of anger. On the fair skin was a pitch-black mark in the shape of a chain, like a collar around his throat. A cursed shackle — the sign that Xie Lian had been a god, and had been banished from Heaven. It sealed his spiritual power, weakening him dramatically.

Hua Cheng’s eye moved down to Xie Lian’s legs. They were mostly hidden by his robe. But he could see a similar cursed shackle around the soft flesh above the crown prince’s ankle.

He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened at Xie Lian’s second ascension. He had been torn apart by angry ghosts, nearly destroyed during that time, hanging on to existence through sheer force of will and his love for Xie Lian. And for many years afterwards, he battled madness and death in the lands surrounding Mount Tonglu, before he had been reborn as a ghost king.

And for about five minutes, a god. He hadn’t told Xie Lian that part. It didn’t really matter — he had rejected Heaven when he learned that Xie Lian wasn’t there, preferring to exist as a powerful ghost instead.

All he knew about Xie Lian’s second ascension was that it had been very brief — a single incense time — and had apparently involved emperor Jun Wu suffering a nasty injury. Unfortunately, almost nobody had witnessed what Xie Lian had actually done, so none of the secondhand accounts Hua Cheng had extracted were very helpful. All he knew is that Xie Lian had been banished a second time, and had vanished from the eyes of Heaven.

Xie Lian seemed to sense what he was thinking. He looked up at Hua Cheng with wide, luminous eyes. Without thinking, Hua Cheng slipped a hand along the cursed shackle on his throat.

“I wish I could rip this off you,” he said in a low voice.

“You shouldn’t,” Xie Lian said sorrowfully. “I earned them both.”

“You only earned this one because you wanted to help people. Save people,” Hua Cheng said passionately. “They treated you as if you committed a crime.”

Xie Lian smiled bitterly. “I made things worse by trying. I thought that I could fly in the face of fate, and come out triumphant.”

Hua Cheng wrapped an arm around Xie Lian and pulled him close. The crown prince let himself be molded against Hua Cheng’s body, and rested his head against the ghost king’s broad shoulder.

“All you wanted was to save others. I will never believe that you were wrong for doing that,” he said softly. “You saved me, three times — and in doing that, you saved me from becoming a monster who loved nothing and gloried in death and hate.”

Even as a young child, he had been on his way to becoming that when he had first glimpsed Xie Lian — he had been despised, hated, abused by everyone he knew, for as long as he could remember. All he wanted to do was kill himself and everyone around him, taking as many lives as he could into the cold, cruel emptiness that awaited him in death. There was nothing in the world that was good, he had believed. Just decay, blood, trash, and the infected pustules that called themselves humans.

Then he had glimpsed a figure of breathtaking beauty, white and gold, shining in the sun like a god descended into the mortal realm. He had been so dazzled that he had lost his balance and fallen from the platform — and as he fell, his last thought was that he would never have a chance to see that exquisite person…

Then strong arms had caught him, held him close, and he found himself looking at the crown prince himself, no less beautiful and magnificent up close. His mask had fallen, and Hua Cheng had been left gazing into the lovely face that looked up at him now, smiling gently and murmuring reassurances to the tiny frightened child.

His life had never been the same after that.

He clung to existence for Xie Lian’s sake alone — he had even defended Xianle, the country he had tried to curse with his own death, because the country and its people were important to Xie Lian. Everything he had done was for Xie Lian’s sake. Without that bright presence in his life, he didn’t know what he would have become — only that he would have been a bloodthirsty, wrathful scourge to ghosts, gods and mortals alike, lashing out in rage and violence for their own sake.

Xie Lian’s arms slipped around him and held him tightly, as he buried his face against Hua Cheng’s throat. “I can’t imagine San Lang like that,” he whispered.

“That’s because you only knew me after I met you,” Hua Cheng said.

He captured Xie Lian’s lips in a kiss, gently bending him back against the bedcovers. In response, Xie Lian arched his back slightly, and loosely draped his arms around Hua Cheng’s neck. His skin was slightly damp and smelled like jasmine — probably the soap he had bathed with — and the faint pinkness of his pale face made him look as though he was blushing.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian murmured.

“Yes, gege?”

“Please don’t talk about such things when you’re kissing me.”

Hua Cheng laughed despite himself. “As gege wishes,” he purred. Then he began pressing brief, fierce kisses into Xie Lian’s face, throat, chest and hands, until Xie Lian was giggling along with him. They lay in each other’s arms, face to face, laughing like children.

Chapter Text

For a while, Hua Cheng simply enjoyed the feeling of Xie Lian shaking with laughter against him — something he had never even known he would love so much. Even when the laughter had faded, it left a smile on Xie Lian’s face and sparking light in his eyes. It was a sight that Hua Cheng wanted to paint on the wall of his bedroom so he could look at it whenever he wanted, remind himself of this precious moment with his god.

For a while, the two of them simply lay together, hands absently caressing each other’s bodies. Hua Cheng gazed at Xie Lian as the crown prince cuddled against him, his eyes growing heavy with oncoming sleep and his body becoming soft and languid.

“Are you tired, gege?” Hua Cheng whispered.

“Mm, yes,” Xie Lian said drowsily.

He was half-asleep by the time he crept to the pillow at the head of the bed, with Hua Cheng crawling just behind him. The ghost king settled behind him, his taut abdomen pressed against Xie Lian’s back and his hip just behind Xie Lian’s. One of his arms draped over the crown princes’s body, and Xie Lian’s hand caught his and held it tightly.

“… so happy… San Lang,” Xie Lian murmured as he fell asleep.

A savage joy flooded through Hua Cheng at those words. He wanted to crush Xie Lian against himself and kiss him all over again, but he wouldn’t — wouldn’t wake his god unless he had another nightmare. He settled for gently stroking Xie Lian’s hand with his own fingers, feeling the hand tremble and grip more tightly.

This was a typical night for them, and Hua Cheng was determined to treasure every moment. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t want more — that it was enough to sleep with Xie Lian, and only sleep. But that was a lie. He did want more. He had wanted it ever since that night in the cave when he was only thirteen, when he had heard Xie Lian making desperate, ecstatic moans that had stirred something to life inside him.

He ruthlessly pushed those thoughts down. Xie Lian had spent five hundred years completely celibate, pursuing a path of cultivation that forbade physical pleasures. Hua Cheng had been his first kiss, only six months before. He wasn’t ready to do more. Maybe he would never be ready.

Hua Cheng would accept that. He had already promised Xie Lian that he wouldn’t do anything that Xie Lian didn’t ask for, and he had — mostly — kept his promise. His hands had wandered during some of their kisses, gently groping Xie Lian’s body without him even meaning to do it. But Xie Lian had seemed to enjoy it, even if he seemed a little overwhelmed at first.

Xie Lian had already given him so much more than he had ever dared to hope. He had given Hua Cheng his love, the most precious gift that the ghost king could imagine. He had accepted him completely, both as a ghost and as the devoted believer who had followed him ceaselessly for five hundred years. The moments they had together — collecting scraps, practicing with swords, eating, touring Ghost City — were all more precious to Hua Cheng than any possession he had ever had.

It was more than enough. If Xie Lian wished for more, Hua Cheng would gladly do as he wanted. If he didn’t, then Hua Cheng would be content.

*

The swords clashed, their blades flashing brightly against the gloomy sky of Ghost City.

Xie Lian whirled through the pavilion, his long hair swirling around him as he moved. He blocked a blow from Hua Cheng’s blade with his own verdant longsword, and swiftly stepped to the side to throw his opponent off-balance. Hua Cheng swept past him like a cold wind, but didn’t lose his footing — he simply whirled to meet Xie Lian’s blade with his own.

Xie Lian felt exhilarated, as if every scrap of muscle and skin on his body was coming alive. He hadn’t been able to spar with someone like this in centuries, and definitely not with such a magnificent sword. Even as a youth, he had been exceptional in his skill with the sword — after all, it was the reason he had ascended for the first time. Facing off against someone of comparable skill was something that had almost never happened.

But Hua Cheng was good. Xie Lian remembered that he had praised Hua Cheng as a boy for his skill with the sword, and recommended that he be taught the saber. He seemed to be equally skilled with either weapon, if these practice bouts were anything to go by.

At first, he had used E’ming in his fights with Xie Lian. But the scimitar had a bad habit of trembling uncontrollably whenever they fought, as if it were devastated by the idea of fighting Xie Lian even as play. It happened even when Xie Lian assured the scimitar that he wouldn’t be angry at it, so Hua Cheng began using other blades.

Their swords locked in place, and for a moment the two men were staring at one another between their gleaming blades. Both of them were smiling, as if the combat excited them.

“Good footwork, gege,” Hua Cheng said in a low voice, his eye glinting wildly.

“Thank you,” Xie Lian said breathlessly. “You’re even more talented than I remembered!”

Without warning, he spun away, swinging his sword in a wide arc, and slipping behind Hua Cheng’s body. His slender, acrobatic frame moved more quickly than the ghost king could react, and within a second a green blade had been raised to brush against the front of Hua Cheng’s pale throat, while Xie Lian’s other hand grasped Hua Cheng’s sword-arm in an iron grip.

“Do you yield?” Xie Lian whispered in his ear. His voice was soft, but there was a teasing undercurrent in it.

Hua Cheng’s lips curved in a satisfied smile. “To you, I always yield, gege.”

As Xie Lian lowered his sword, a crestfallen look came over his face. “You don’t mean you let me win on purpose, did you?”

Hua Cheng turned to face him. “I wouldn’t do that to your highness. Even I were to win,” he said, leaning close enough that his breath stirred Xie Lian’s hair, “gege would still be the one who could make me kneel and obey. I’m simply not a match for him.”

“That’s not true,” Xie Lian objected. “You’re better than anyone I’ve seen in centuries.”

Hua Cheng’s smile grew gentler as he leaned closer to Xie Lian’s face, his lips brushing against the crown prince’s cheek. “Not against you, gege. When I see you move, it’s like watching you perform the most sublime dance. How can I not be distracted?”

Xie Lian raised his face to kiss Hua Cheng, and was rewarded by a pair of powerful arms nearly lifting him off his feet, a pair of slender, strong hands gripping him with fierce strength. His sword slid from his fingers as he raised his hands to tangle in Hua Cheng’s hair, even as the ghost king’s lips and tongue plundered his mouth. Sparring with Xie Lian always seemed to excite him, and their bouts usually concluded with more kissing.

An odd thought crossed Xie Lian’s mind, and he found himself drawing back to gaze at Hua Cheng’s face. He studied the elegant bones, the smooth ice-pale skin, that deep black eye that always seemed to be watching him with such tenderness.

“Gege?” Hua Cheng said breathlessly. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” Xie Lian said. “I just… found myself thinking that if you went back five hundred years and told me that one day, that child I caught during the festival would be my love… I don’t think I would have believed it.”

“I wasn’t much to look at then, gege. Just a weak little brat.”

Xie Lian pressed their foreheads together, and brushed their lips together. “What would little Hong-hong-er have thought,” he asked quietly, “if he had been told that one day the crown prince of Xianle would be his?”

A hint of sadness came into Hua Cheng’s eye. “He wouldn’t have believed it. The crown prince of Xianle is a god among gods, too divine for mortal eyes, someone that a weak little brat wouldn’t even dare to dream of.” His eyelashes brushed against Xie Lian’s, tangled together. “He dreamed of you anyway, even though he had no hope.”

Sorrow lanced through Xie Lian’s heart, as he remembered the wrenching, almost inhuman screams and cries Hua Cheng had uttered when Xie Lian had been told to cast him out, that the child was accursed and would cause him misfortune. The little boy had clung to him desperately, as if Xie Lian was the only person in the world who could save him — and maybe he had believed that that was true. He seemed to still believe it now.

“I’m sorry,” Xie Lian whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you think…”

The sadness faded from Hua Cheng’s eye, and he landed a small kiss on Xie Lian’s mouth, as light as a butterfly’s wings. “Gege has nothing to apologize for. That child dreamed of you, and you gave him greater happiness than he ever dreamed would be his.”

Chapter Text

A thunderstorm was brewing over the dark skies of Ghost City. Flickers of lightning fluttered through the clouds, like the silvery wings of Hua Cheng’s butterflies, and faint rumbles of thunder growled in the sky. Xie Lian couldn’t remember rain falling on the city in the past six months, but Hua Cheng didn’t seem to be worried by it.

“It happens on occasion here,” he said, leaning against a table in the kitchen. “There’s nothing to worry about, gege.”

Xie Lian peered into a pot, and his heart sank. He had spent much of the afternoon concocting something that he had deemed the Autumn Wind Of Longing Stew. However, something seemed to have gone wrong with it. It was brightly, violently red, with lumps of something dark brown that he suspected were pieces of potato.

He felt Hua Cheng slip behind him, and bend down to rest his chin against Xie Lian’s shoulder. “Mmm,” he murmured. “Smells good.”

Xie Lian looked up at him with wide eyes. “It does?”

“Of course it does.” A hand slipped around Xie Lian’s waist, pulling him back against Hua Cheng’s body. “Gege’s food always is good.”

Xie Lian couldn’t help but beam at the praise. He had first tried to cook for Hua Cheng not long after he had recovered from his chest wound — and much to his shock, his beloved had enjoyed his food. He usually had some small criticisms or advice such as “it needs more salt,” but it was a far cry from the vomiting and fainting his food usually caused. It almost made Xie Lian wonder if he was somehow improving after five hundred years of culinary disasters.

The stew turned out to not be as bad as it looked — at least, Xie Lian didn’t think so — and Hua Cheng ate his portion steadily and eagerly. His only words of criticism were, “It’s a little spicy. You might want to put in a little less paprika next time.”

“I’ll remember that,” Xie Lian promised, nodding.

Hua Cheng set aside his bowl and chopsticks, and leaned forward to lightly kiss Xie Lian’s lips. “Gege is so good to me,” he whispered, threading his fingers through his god’s hair. “To do this every few days, spend hours making food for us…”

“I like cooking for you,” Xie Lian said breathlessly.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted Hua Cheng to do, but he suddenly wanted him to touch him more — to run his hands over his body -- to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe — to — to — he didn’t know what he wanted, just that he wanted Hua Cheng. His heart was racing like a frightened rabbit’s, but it made him feel vaguely giddy instead of afraid.

“San Lang,” he whispered, “I just…”

Hua Cheng’s obsidian eye was so close that he could see himself reflected in it. “Yes, gege?” he said just as softly.

“I think… I need a bath,” Xie Lian said faintly.

Hua Cheng looked a little surprised, but he smiled and caressed Xie Lian’s cheek. “Then take one, gege. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Maybe it was Xie Lian’s imagination, but he thought he felt his heart tremble when Hua Cheng said that he would wait for him. He knew what Hua Cheng actually meant — he meant that he would be waiting in their bedroom for Xie Lian to join him. But it echoed with the centuries that he had waited just to see Xie Lian, speak to him, show his love for him. And… and something more than that.

Xie Lian didn’t really remember the journey from the kitchen to the palatial bathroom, only that he found himself alone in the exquisite marble-filled room. In the center of the room was a deep, expansive bathing pool that always seemed to be full of warm, clean, jasmine-scented water with a few floating white flowers, no matter what time of day Xie Lian came to use it. He had spent most of the last five hundred years scrubbing himself in tiny leaking tubs filled with cold stream water, which made this pool feel even more decadent.

He stripped off his robes, boots and pants, leaving them neatly folded on a small table near the entrance; a fresh set of sleeping robes had been placed there already. The dirty clothes would be returned to him, fresh and clean, the following day; he wasn’t sure who did it, except that they did their work well and without him ever seeing them.

The warm water enveloped and cradled him as he waded into the pool, and began to methodically wash his skin. His hands were trembling slightly, with the storm of thoughts that were running through his head. Thoughts that he had never thought he would have.

His fingers brushed over his upper chest, and an echo of old pain resounded in his mind. Less than a year ago, Hua Cheng had removed the spike impaling his heart, leaving an ugly, gaping hole. Now his immortal body had healed, and there was only pale unmarked skin where it had been. Not even a trace of a scar.

His eyes slowly moved down the length of his body, studying himself for the first time in centuries. Physically, he hadn’t changed in five hundred years — not since his first ascension — and he still had the appearance of a slender, well-made young man of seventeen. Without arrogance, he knew that others considered his body desirable — Feng Xin had once had to rescue him from being abducted into a brothel — but it had never really mattered to him, since he knew that he wouldn’t give in to such desire.

Not until now.

For five hundred years, Xie Lian had followed the cultivation path he had chosen in his youth. It was a strenuous path — in addition to the meditation and practice with swords, it demanded purity of the mind and body. Small lapses were allowed, like the occasional taste of alcohol or a kiss. But more than that would ruin his power — even back when he had been a god, giving in to physical desire would have hurt him drastically.

It was the reason that for six months, he had only kissed Hua Cheng. The habits of five hundred years couldn’t be undone so quickly — his mind and body automatically rebelled against anything stronger than that. On the night he had learned of Hua Cheng’s feelings for him, he had panicked when the ghost king had pressed him down onto his bed. He had only calmed when Hua Cheng assured him that he would do nothing that Xie Lian didn’t ask for.

But even then, Xie Lian’s mind had not whispered, “Never.” It had whispered, “Not yet.” For six months, some part of him had known this day would come — it was just a question of how long.

Xie Lian’s stomach felt as if it were full of hundreds of Hua Cheng’s butterflies. As he washed his body and hair, Xie Lian silently tried to come up with a way of asking Hua Cheng for what he wanted. He knew that Hua Cheng desired him — the ghost king had showed him in hundreds of little ways, like licking sauce from his lips. Yet he found himself worrying about the words to ask him for more.

To ask Hua Cheng to make love to him.

Chapter Text

A soft, warm glow radiated from the candles and lanterns hung around the bedroom, making the crimson bedcurtains and richly-embroidered bedsheets shimmer in their light.

But to Xie Lian, the most beautiful thing in the bedroom was Hua Cheng. He was reclining against the headboard with the languid grace of a resting cat, his sleeping robes carelessly clinging to his tall, lean body. The upper part of the robe had been pulled loose, so that an expanse of smooth white chest could be seen under it. His raven-black hair was rumpled as if he had already slept.

When Xie Lian came in, Hua Cheng leaned forwards, his eye alight. “Would you like me to comb your hair, gege?” He asked.

Despite his nerves, Xie Lian smiled softly. “I would like that, please,” he said.

He sat on the edge of the bed, enjoying the gentle pull of the comb on his hair, and the even gentler sensation of Hua Cheng’s fingers smoothing out every tangle or knot he found. The bedroom was quiet, but it was a soothing quiet that made his anxiousness diminish a little. And yet in the quiet, Xie Lian felt Hua Cheng’s hands linger when they brushed his neck, his shoulders, his back.

When Hua Cheng set aside the comb, Xie Lian turned around to face him. The ghost king was already moving back across the bed to lie down, but he stopped when Xie Lian seized his hand.

“Gege?” Hua Cheng asked, a little confused.

“San Lang, I — I want — I —“ The words seemed to have stuck in Xie Lian’s throat.

Hua Cheng slid across the silk coverlet to him, concern in his face. “Whatever you want, I will give you,” he said, interlinking his fingers with Xie Lian’s. “What is it, gege?”

“I want… I want… more.”

Hua Cheng looked slightly confused. “More what?”

Xie Lian took a deep breath. “I want… more of you,” he said quietly. “And I want to give you… everything I have.”

With one trembling hand, he loosened the throat of his sleeping robe and drew it open to reveal an expanse of slightly flushed skin on his chest. He knew that Hua Cheng had already seen his body naked, when he had first rescued him from the coffin… but this was something different. This was something offered freely.

Hua Cheng didn’t need to breathe, but he drew in a sharp, harsh breath at the sight. Slowly and carefully, as if afraid of frightening a small skittish animal, he moved to Xie Lian and wrapped his arms around him, drawing him into his lap. His hands gently roamed down the crown prince’s back, to his rounded backside, and gently gripped it.

“You want… this?” he said in a low voice.

“Y-yes,” Xie Lian said, hoping he didn’t sound too nervous.

The truth was, Xie Lian’s nervousness wasn’t entirely because of the abandonment of his cultivation. It was also because he had no experience in physical love — he hadn’t even kissed someone until Hua Cheng. He wasn’t even entirely certain how love between two men worked. He had been subjected to crude, ugly propositions by some mortal men in the past, but he didn’t really know whether that was how it worked.

But he did know that however it worked, he wanted it with Hua Cheng. Not just because he craved the ghost king’s touch, but because he wanted to see him happy — gloriously, deliriously happy.

Hua Cheng gazed at him with amazement on his snow-pale face, his hands gently squeezing Xie Lian’s backside. “You’re trembling, gege,” he said softly.

“Am I? I don’t — I —“

“If you aren’t ready yet, we can wait. We can take as much time as you want.” His voice was gentle, but there was a faint strain in it.

Xie Lian bowed his head and shook it. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be…”

Still feeling shy and nervous, he moved himself closer to Hua Cheng, his legs parting around Hua Cheng’s thighs. Awkwardly, he raised a hand to twine the thin braid in Hua Cheng’s hair around his fingers, brushing the soft skin of his palm against his cheek. The ghost king’s eye widened, and his hands gripped Xie Lian even more tightly.

“And… your cultivation?” he said hoarsely.

Xie Lian leaned closer and touched his lips to Hua Cheng’s cheek. “I know…”

Hua Cheng swallowed hard. “You said that your cultivation path forbade this. If you — if we — do this, then you will lose that.”

“I know,” Xie Lian repeated softly.

Hua Cheng’s face twisted slightly, as if he were in pain. “I can’t deprive you of that, gege — I know how important it is to you —“

Xie Lian interrupted him with a brief kiss, then rested his forehead against Hua Cheng’s. His nerves seemed to have diminished, now that he had managed to communicate to Hua Cheng what he wanted.

“I know what I’m sacrificing, San Lang,” he said softly. “And yes, it’s important to me. But… you are more important to me.”

Hua Cheng raised his head, staring at Xie Lian in amazement. His own hands were trembling now. He raised them to touch Xie Lian’s chest and face, so gently that Xie Lian had to lean forwards to feel it. It was as if he were touching something holy and fragile, and feared breaking it by being too rough.

“You have me already, gege,” he whispered. “I would never leave you.”

Xie Lian flushed. “I didn’t mean… I’m not trying to keep you with me by doing this. That wasn’t what I meant.” He placed a soft hand on the middle of Hua Cheng’s chest, and was rewarded with another deep breath. “I — meant that, being with you, like this, being loved by you… it’s the most important thing in my life now. I can live without my cultivation, if it means you and I being happy.”

Hua Cheng’s lips parted, but no sound came from them. His face was alight with a hope that Xie Lian had never seen before.

“In all my life,” Xie Lian said softly, “I’ve never wanted someone the way I want you. I was taught how to rid myself of the desire for women, and no other man has ever attracted me. You’re the only one in the world… the only one I would sacrifice my cultivation for.” He pressed his lips to Hua Cheng’s, before adding, “If you… if you want me, San Lang.”

Hua Cheng’s eye was glimmering in the faint, warm light, and for a moment Xie Lian was afraid he was going to cry. “I do want you, your highness,” he whispered. “Very much.”

Despite the nervousness flooding back into his mind, Xie Lian smiled, and rested his forehead against Hua Cheng’s again. “I — I don’t entirely know how,” he confessed.

“Gege?”

“I know some of it — what men do with hands and mouths, with each other — but I don’t know if — if there’s more than that.”

“There is,” Hua Cheng said gently. “If you don’t feel ready for that, I can take care of you in those other ways.”

“No, I want to try… that,” Xie Lian said, embarrassment flooding over him at what they were talking about. “But I — I don’t know that I will… that I can… that I won’t…”

“If you want me to stop,” Hua Cheng said, stroking his hair, “then you only need to tell me, and I’ll stop. I’ll only do what you want, when you want it.” The soft smile on his lips faded away. “I can’t promise there won’t be pain, your highness. I know how it is done, but I haven’t done it before.”

Xie Lian gave him a tremulous smile, and moved deeper into Hua Cheng’s arms. “I know San Lang would never intentionally hurt me. I trust you… completely…”

Hua Cheng pulled Xie Lian into a long, lingering kiss that flooded him with warmth and burned on his lips. But it had more urgency than the ones they had shared before, because it promised to become more, to bring them both to something neither had dared to touch before. Xie Lian clung to Hua Cheng with all his strength, feeling the thin sleeping robe threatening to tear under his fingers. The powerful muscles under Hua Cheng’s cool skin were tense and taut with the effort of holding himself back.

He almost cried out when Hua Cheng broke the kiss, his eye glittering faintly in the lantern-light. The dismay must have shown in his face, because Hua Cheng immediately stroked his cheek, and whispered, “Stay here, gege. I’ll be right back.” He slid Xie Lian from his lap, with the utmost gentleness, never looking away from his eyes, and then swiftly made his way across the room.

Xie Lian saw him open a small wooden box and extract two things from it — a small ceramic jar, and a small glittering object that Xie Lian couldn’t see clearly. Hua Cheng gazed down at the glittering object for a moment, before gently curling his fingers around it.

Then Xie Lian felt something.

A strange warmth enveloped his body, along with a prickling sensation that ran over his skin. His body suddenly felt light and buoyant, yet he was suddenly shaking as if he had become feverish, his eyes wide and wild.

At the same time, thunder crashed overhead — so close that it seemed to rattle the room. No, Xie Lian thought desperately, it wasn’t just thunder! This had happened to him before, five hundred years ago. It was —

“San Lang!” he cried out, trembling and clutching at the bedsheets. “San Lang, I’m—“

Hua Cheng was staring at him in shock. He seemed to realize what was happening just a few seconds too late — and he lunged towards Xie Lian, his voice rising to a howl of, “No! No—“

And Xie Lian ascended.

Chapter Text

The heavens trembled when a new god ascended, even if that god was not particularly powerful or impressive. It was a sign that divinity had been achieved by some exceptional person, and the force of their newfound power was enough to shake the skies and shatter the tranquility of Heaven. Even the least of the civil gods received such treatment.

On that day, Heaven did not tremble. It quaked.

Heavenly Officials cried out and staggered, some falling to the ground, as cracks appeared in the wide, shimmering thoroughfares between their palaces. The palaces themselves groaned as if their very foundations were being torn up — and as the quakes intensified, more cracks crept up their walls, and roofs began to collapse amidst screams of fury and surprise. Golden bells rang out furiously, as if they were able to fall from their perches and crush those unlucky enough to stand beneath them.

Such an ascension had not happened for hundreds of years. It was the kind of arrival that the gods would have expected of the Emperor Jun Wu himself, if anyone living had been present to see him ascend.

General Nan Yang — once known as Feng Xin — had seen plenty of ascensions in his five hundred years as a martial god. But he had never seen one like this one. Even the most powerful of martial gods in Heaven hadn’t received a reception as massive as this one — which meant that the person who was ascending must be frighteningly impressive.

He was halfway down the Grand Avenue of Divine Might when he heard a far-off crashing behind him. Someone’s palace had just collapsed under the force of the quakes — a palace not too far away, with white walls and a golden-tiled roof, a palace with dozens of Middle Heaven officials fleeing it as more walls fell to the—

Wait. That was his palace.

“Motherfucker!” Feng Xin erupted, his face reddening.

He turned back to the vast golden pillar of light that was bringing this new god to the Heavenly Capital. As soon as this guy finished his ascension, Feng Xin was going to rip his throat out. Then he was going to make this new god pay every merit he owed for knocking down the palace of General Nan Yang — it was the guy's fault, even if he didn’t control the violence of his ascension.

He stormed towards the pillar of light, cursing every step of the way, often stumbling when another quake struck the Capital. This close, he could see a dark figure standing in the middle of the pillar, with long hair whirling above the person’s head, and a shimmering white garment flowing around their body. He couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman yet, and he couldn’t see any of their facial features yet.

“Stupid fucker,” Feng Xin said through gritted teeth.

Other gods had gathered near him, apparently as eager to see who this new arrival in Heaven was. With one last blast, the pillar of light erupted into a blast of shimmering motes — and then dispersed, leaving only the white-clad figure standing in the middle of the square, his hair swirling around his body as the wind died down.

Feng Xin took another step towards the man — and then froze.

It was Xie Lian.

For a split second, Feng Xin felt like he had stepped back in time, to his youth in Xianle. Xie Lian looked exactly as he had at seventeen — a perfect face and body, unmarred by scars or blemishes. And Feng Xin had been one of the few people, other than Mu Qing, to see him as he looked now — hair loose and unbound, feet bare, dressed only in a thin sleeping robe. His ascension had obviously come at an inopportune time.

But it was his expression that made Feng Xin take notice. He didn’t look overjoyed or baffled as most of the new arrivals did — his eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated, and he didn’t look as if he knew where he was. He looked around slowly, taking in the sights around him.

“That failure?” a scornful voice said nearby. “Who let him back in?”

“The crown prince of Xianle? Doesn’t he have any shame?”

“How did he manage to ascend after what he did the last time?”

“I don’t know how a loser like him caused all this damage!”

At the sound of those voices, fury boiled in Feng Xin’s chest. Despite the ugliness of his last days with Xie Lian, he had been fiercely loyal to the prince — and it had broken his heart to leave Xianle’s royal family behind, knowing that things would only get worse for them. Especially that Xie Lian’s suffering had only begun, and that his soul was darkening into hate and violence that Feng Xin simply couldn’t condone.

He had given up on his friend.

He had felt even guiltier when he found out about Xie Lian’s second ascension. Not all the details were publicly known, but Feng Xin knew that it had involved setting loose a plague — and his return to godhood had lasted only an incense time before Xie Lian stabbed Jun Wu and was banished back to the mortal realm again. Then he had disappeared, as far as Heaven was concerned. No one had seen him for five hundred years.

And ever since he had ascended, Feng Xin had felt painfully guilty over what had happened to his former friend. Maybe things wouldn’t have gone so badly for Xie Lian if Feng Xin had just stuck it out, tried harder to save him, refused to be driven away. Maybe he wouldn’t have snapped and gone on a rampage during his second ascension, if Feng Xin had been there to support him and protect him from himself. It had haunted him for centuries, and all those feelings flooded back as he looked at Xie Lian’s face for the first time in hundreds of years.

Xie Lian took a hesitant step forward, and mumbled something.

Feng Xin snapped out of his own thoughts, and realized that Xie Lian wasn’t even really dressed — he just had a thin silken robe that kept him from being fully naked. And hundreds of other gods were staring at him in his current state.

Old instincts kicked in. Feng Xin pulled off his cloak as he strode towards Xie Lian, determined to help his former friend maintain a little modesty and dignity. As he reached Xie Lian, he wrapped the cloak around the prince’s body. Xie Lian looked at him, seemingly confused.

“Look at you!” Feng Xin muttered angrily. “You just had to ascend when you’re fucking half naked, didn’t you?”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud — the words simply slipped out as if they were both still living in the royal palace of Xianle, and hadn’t spent half a millennium apart.

But Xie Lian looked at him with distress in his eyes. “I have to go back,” he said loudly.

“What?” Feng Xin said.

“I have to go back,” Xie Lian repeated. “I can’t — I need to…”

Then his eyes seemed to focus on what was in front of him, and he blinked in surprise. “Feng Xin?” he whispered.

Feng Xin held his breath without meaning to. Xie Lian had changed enormously in the weeks before his second ascension, becoming an entirely different person. Until he was banished for the first time, he had been bright, idealistic, fiercely unselfish… and over time, it had all eroded away. And five hundred years had passed since then — who knew what kind of person Xie Lian was now?

For a moment, the two men stared at one another. Then a sheepish smile crossed Xie Lian’s face, as if Feng Xin had caught him in an embarrassing situation, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

“How have you been?”

Chapter Text

Xie Lian waited for Feng Xin to respond, but his former bodyguard just stared at him with a peculiar expression. He didn’t seem to know what to say to Xie Lian, so after a moment, he simply looked away.

Of course, Xie Lian reflected. Feng Xin was no longer merely a bodyguard, but a well-renowned martial god, General Nan Yang. Xie Lian had passed many of his temples over the years, and had even thought about burning some incense in a few of them. But he felt strange about burning incense to someone he had parted on such bad terms with, and who might still hold a grudge against him.

Feng Xin probably didn’t want people to dwell on the association between himself and someone like Xie Lian, who knew full well that he was disliked and disdained by gods and whatever few mortals knew of him. The visible disgust on the faces of the Heavenly Officials around him was enough to remind him of that. Though… Feng Xin had covered his body with his own clothing, so perhaps he didn’t dislike him that much…

“Thank you,” he said a little awkwardly. “I'll return this as soon as I find some clothes.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just keep it,” Feng Xin said tersely.

Xie Lian sighed, and glanced around at the faces around him. For the most part, they seemed to fall into two camps — there were the ones visibly displeased by his presence, and the ones who seemed confused by him. He recognized some of the faces in the crowd from his first ascension, but others were unfamiliar to him — like a man dressed all in black who had come near, with a strange expression on his face. Next to him was a woman with a fan, who seemed intrigued by what was going on.

Xie Lian wanted to leave. Very badly.

He had to get back to Hua Cheng, as quickly as possible. He hadn’t meant to leave the ghost king alone in their bedroom, especially not when they were just about to consummate their relationship. That was bad enough, but Xie Lian could only imagine how he felt at this moment, with Xie Lian being ripped from his grasp after five hundred years of searching…

“Well, I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised that the one who ascended was you,” a cool, elegant voice said from behind him. “Considering all the damage you did the last two times.”

Feng Xin’s face darkened with anger before Xie Lian could turn around. The Heavenly Official behind him was another martial god, wearing black and carrying an impressive sword. It took a moment for Xie Lian to recognize him, only for more memories to come flooding back.

“Mu Qing?” he whispered.

His former attendant’s face stiffened slightly, and Xie Lian realized that people probably didn’t call Mu Qing that anymore — he was now General Xuan Zhen, the martial god of the southwest. He was as well-known and powerful as Feng Xin was — although if his expression and tone were anything to go by, he was not happy to see Xie Lian at all.

Xie Lian tugged the cloak more tightly around his body, and lowered his head slightly. “Did I… do a lot of damage?”

“Only a few collapsed palaces, an ancient bell and the entire Grand Avenue of Divine Might,” Mu Qing said bitingly.

Xie Lian wilted. “Oh. That much.”

He wasn’t sure what he could possibly do to fix the situation — he had built shelters for himself in the past, but heavenly palaces and roads were far, far beyond his skill to repair. And if it came down to merits… he didn’t know if he had any of those left over from his first ascension, or if he was starting over with nothing at all.

Many of the Heavenly Officials were dispersing now, apparently having exhausted their displeasure at Xie Lian’s ascension. A few were still lingering around, like the unfamiliar man in black, despite the woman with the fan tugging on his arm. And Feng Xin and Mu Qing were busy glaring at one another, apparently ignoring Xie Lian’s existence.

Xie Lian sighed inwardly. His former body and former attendant had never liked one another — when they had served him, they often rubbed one another the wrong way and would squabble. Xie Lian had been the only reason that their dislike of each other hadn’t broken out into open hostility. Now he couldn’t order them to behave… and it looked like their dislike of one another had exploded into full blown hatred.

“I’ll go,” he said quietly. “I’ll come back here in a day or two when things have settled down and… and deal with the problems I’ve caused.”

“I’m afraid you can’t, your highness.”

An unfamiliar voice came from behind him. He turned around sharply, and found a richly-dressed young Middle Heaven official standing behind him. His arms were crossed and his face was grave, and the “your highness” didn’t sound particularly respectful.

“I’m sorry?” Xie Lian said.

Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing had stopped glaring at each other, and were now staring at the Middle Heaven official. Their expressions were almost identical — they looked like an unpleasant surprise had just been dropped on their heads.

“I’m under orders to escort you to the Palace of Divine Might,” the Middle Heaven official said placidly. “Emperor Jun Wu wants to see you.”

*

There were only a few times in Hua Cheng’s long life when he had been angrier than he was now. One of those times had been when he found Xie Lian in his coffin, and had wanted to liquefy Lang Qianqiu as revenge. He had also been so enraged when he found out Xie Lian had been banished — both times — that it had taken him days to calm down.

But he had no intention of calming down now.

His first, raw, wild thought was that Heaven had a sick sense of humor. They had let Xie Lian rot in obscurity and misery for five hundred years, a laughingstock of the three realms, including the twenty-six he had been left with a spike impaling his heart. They had been content to just pretend that he was an embarrassing stain on their history, a cautionary tale to frighten the little new gods with so they wouldn't try to break the rules and do what their consciences told them.

And now… now that Hua Cheng had found him, now that he had managed to give Xie Lian a little safety, a shred of happiness… Heaven snatched him away again, back into the nest of vain, selfish vipers known as Heavenly Officials.

He knew that rationally, he should be glad that Xie Lian had ascended. His godhood had been ripped from him twice already, for no good reason — he was more worthy than any of them to be a god. They elevated trash like Mu Qing and Lang Qianqiu, or arrogant tyrants like Shi Wudu and Jun Wu, yet let Xie Lian lie in the mud for five hundred years. There was no actual worthiness to the gods.

But it sickened him that after it had taken five hundred years for Xie Lian and him to find one another — five hundred years for Hua Cheng to show his beautiful prince how much he loved him — Heaven had torn Xie Lian out of his arms. He had been looking into Xie Lian’s eyes as he ascended, as that pillar of white light had enveloped him and carried him away from their bed. He had looked shocked, almost afraid — and he had reached out towards Hua Cheng just before he disappeared.

Hua Cheng tore through Paradise Mansion like a storm, smashing anything he came across and tearing holes in the walls. His eye glinted with a red light, his snow-pale face was stark and icy, and a cold killing aura radiated from him like a blast of winter wind, covering the rage that boiled inside him like the heat of Mount Tonglu.

The servants lurking in Paradise Manor scurried away from him, afraid for their lives. Ghost City loved and respected their Chengzhu, but none of them had ever seen him this angry before.

Hua Cheng barely was aware of where he was until he found himself standing outside the kitchen. His hand froze in mid-air, before curling into a fist that shook like a leaf in the storm. He could see the pot Xie Lian had left on the table after dinner, with the leftover stew he had made just that afternoon. He had been so happy that Hua Cheng liked it, even though Hua Cheng loved everything he cooked. He would have happily eaten a lump of charcoal if his god had burned it.

He moved to the pot and stared down at the red stew inside for a long time, feeling as if claws had torn into his heart. His rage was suddenly twisted by something else — the painful loneliness that had filled his existence for five hundred years. Only it was worse than before. At least during those five hundred years, he had been clinging to the memory of brief moments with Xie Lian. Now he had spent six months in the prince’s presence — kissing him, holding him, seeing luminous smiles meant only for him — and the sudden loss made him feel as if someone had hollowed out his body.

Something wet was trickling from his eye.

Chapter Text

Under his rage and loneliness, Hua Cheng felt something else: fear.

That fear had lurked in the back of his mind for the past six months — the gnawing feeling that perhaps Xie Lian was only with him because he had nowhere else to go, that he didn’t love Hua Cheng as deeply as Hua Cheng loved him. That fear had only abated when he saw Xie Lian’s smile, radiant as the sun and meant only for him — but it was never truly gone.

He had thought it was gone earlier that evening, when Xie Lian had stammered that he wanted Hua Cheng to make love to him. Without knowing it, Xie Lian had assured him that he loved Hua Cheng more than the cultivation he had dedicated his life to, and that their union was the most important thing in his life now. He had been so shy, so embarrassed, so exquisitely beautiful in that moment that Hua Cheng had barely been able to say anything.

But now he was gone. And the fear came flooding back, the fear of a starved, lonely child with a bandaged face, clinging to the sleeve of a prince who was too glorious to notice him. He needed to know…. would Xie Lian abandon him, now that he had the heavens before him? Now that he had reclaimed his rightful place?

Staring into a pot of stew, Hua Cheng was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he jumped when a familiar voice suddenly spoke in his head.

“He’s ascended again. I thought you might want to know.”

It was the cool, slightly sour voice of Black Water, the only other Supreme ghost king that still lived. He had been lurking in Heaven for centuries, in various skins — and currently his form was that of Ming Yi, the Earth Master. Hua Cheng had to admit that he had guts. Not just anyone would dare to impersonate one of the Elemental Masters, right in the heart of Heaven.

“I know he did!” Hua Cheng snarled in his private array. “I was with him when it happened!”

“There’s no need to shout,” Black Water said coolly. “You told me before to let you know if he ascended again, or if anyone had news of where he was. You didn’t tell me that you had found him.”

Hua Cheng gripped the table until the wood splintered under his fingertips. Black Water was correct — he had forgotten to tell him about finding Xie Lian. It simply hadn’t occurred to him. And as someone who was deeply in Hua Cheng’s debt, Black Water had every reason to make him aware of the situation right now.

Hua Cheng’s eye darkened as he sat on the edge of the table. “Where are you now?”

“The Palace of Divine Might.”

“Is he there too?”

“Yes. Jun Wu called him ahead of everyone else, just a few minutes after his ascension happened. He might be in trouble.”

Hua Cheng’s entire body stiffened. “How?”

“His ascension was violent. He tore up the Grand Avenue of Divine Might and collapsed some palaces.”

Hua Cheng’s face creased into a snarl. If those filthy hypocrites dared to imprison or punish him for the violence of his ascension — not for anything he had chosen to do, but an accident outside of his control — then Hua Cheng would hunt them down with E’ming, one by one. He would fight Jun Wu himself if it would save Xie Lian.

“He’s talking to Jun Wu right now, but I can’t hear what they’re saying,” Black Water added.

“Get closer!”

“I can’t do that right now. The Wind Master is with me, and she’ll notice if I try to slip away.”

“Make an excuse, get rid of her and get closer!”

There was a cold silence from the other side of the private array, which Hua Cheng hoped meant that Black Water was making some kind of excuse to get away from the Wind Master. Most of what Hua Cheng knew about Shi Qingxuan was through Black Water and a handful of Heavenly Officials that he kept in his pocket. He — or she, oftentimes — was annoying but harmless, especially compared to his brother. Of course, what Hua Cheng thought about him would depend on how he treated and regarded Xie Lian.

Finally, Black Water replied, “I sent her off to get food. I’ll try to get closer to the two of them.”

There was another silence that seemed to stretch on for years, until Hua Cheng wanted to scream and claw at the walls. Then Black Water murmured, “Ling Wen is with them now. She’s saying something about almost nine million merits — I suspect it’s the amount it’ll take to fix the damage he caused.”

Hua Cheng’s eye widened. Merits were the units of currency used in Heaven — each one was a stick of incense, a prayer offered to a god. Xie Lian hadn’t been worshiped by anyone except Hua Cheng in five hundred years, and most mortals either didn’t know who he was, or they would see him as a figure of misfortune and failure. He didn’t have any merits, and he had no way to acquire them quickly.

Unless… unless…

Hua Cheng’s jaw clenched. He would deal with that particular problem once he knew that Xie Lian was safe. His fingers traced up the hand of the opposite arm, to the elegantly-engraved silver vambraces that enveloped his forearms. A single silvery, glowing butterfly sprang forth from it, fluttering around his head like a moth around a candle.

Black Water’s voice echoed in his mind again. “He just mentioned you.”

The table’s wood disintegrated between Hua Cheng’s fingers.

“What are they saying?” he said hoarsely.

“No one is saying much. Most of them look horrified — especially Generals Xuan Zhen and Nan Yang.”

A cold smile slithered over Hua Cheng’s lips. Those two cretins. They had both lost the right to care about Xie Lian when they abandoned him five hundred years ago. He only regretted that they had refused his challenge — it would have been so satisfying to thrash them for what they had done and then destroy every temple they had. Especially Mu Qing, for his petty jealousy and his callous cruelty.

On the other hand, Hua Cheng had never abandoned Xie Lian — had never given up on him, even for a moment. Every time he was parted from his god, it was never by his own will.

But the smile began to fade as he realized what it might mean, if they knew that Xie Lian was involved with him. They might be even less likely to let him go if they knew that Crimson Rain Sought Flower was waiting for him. They feared him, they hated him — what would they do to a god they already disdained, if they found out he was the ghost king’s lover?

He snapped his fingers, and the butterfly immediately fluttered away. A moment later, it returned with Yin Yu behind it. His face was hidden behind his smiling mask, but Hua Cheng could tell from his reserved body language that he was disturbed by the chaos Hua Cheng had wrought throughout the manor.

“Chengzhu?” He asked in a calm, measured voice.

“Yin Yu,” Hua Cheng said grimly. “Get me every stick of incense in this city — and if need be, get more from the mortal realm. I want it all delivered to the Thousand Lights Temple.”

Chapter Text

The Palace of Divine Might hadn’t changed much in five hundred years. Its grandeur was almost more than the mind could absorb — pillars the size of ancient trees, vast bridges wreathed by clouds, glimmering white-and-gold walls soaring up to shimmering roofs, sprawling grounds filled with rivers and forests. Even Xie Lian, who had grown up in a vast palace caked with gold, jewels and fine art, had trouble not feeling like an ant as he walked into the place.

Of course, the fact that he was barefoot, wrapped in Feng Xin’s cloak and wearing only a sleeping robe under it didn’t help. The gods around him were arrayed in elegant robes and shining armor, and Xie Lian looked as if he had just rolled out of bed. He thought ruefully that it seemed appropriate for an unpopular, unlucky god who collected scraps and had one worshiper in the entire world.

Other gods had seemingly been summoned to the Palace of Divine Might at the same time. He saw familiar faces among their number — the civil god Ling Wen, the man in black and the woman with the fan, Mu Qing, Feng Xin, and a number of others he had been acquainted with five hundred years ago. He didn’t remember all their names, and far more of them were completely unknown to him.

Then he spotted a face in the crowd — a young man not much older than him physically, with a bright, open face and a cheerful, forthright bearing, like an eager young boy. He was dressed as a martial god, but he didn’t have the same air as the others that shared his status. But the sight of him sent icy chills through Xie Lian’s body, and a searing, ripping pain echoed in his chest.

It was Lang Qianqiu,. The last time Xie Lian had seen him, the young man had stabbed him through the heart and buried him alive.
He didn’t know how long he stood rooted to the floor, staring at Lang Qianqiu. But once he realized he was staring, he quickly looked away, and pressed a hand against the left side of his chest. His flesh had healed without even a scar months ago, but his body remembered the pain it had suffered for twenty-six years.

He told himself that he was safe. Lang Qianqiu had never seen his face, and he had spoken with a formal, cold voice when he was the State Preceptor Fangxin. The chances of being recognized were very low. He doubted that Lang Qianqiu would recognize the elegantly silver-masked, black-robed preceptor in the disheveled, half-clad, barefoot man in front of him.

Inside the Palace of Divine Might, Xie Lian felt even less appropriately dressed. He wondered if there was anyone who could lend him some robes and shoes, at least until he got home and could wear his own clothes. Better yet, they could just let him leave so he could get back to Hua Cheng before the ghost king got too upset. He hadn’t been expecting to leave their bedroom so suddenly, so the dice Hua Cheng had given him were back with Xie Lian’s robes.

Like his palace, Jun Wu looked much the same as he had five hundred years before — grave and calm, with the air of a noble ruler. He was sitting in a vast golden throne, his head resting on one of his fists, as if he were lost in thought about what had just occurred. But as Xie Lian approached, his gaze rose and fixed on the younger god. Then the emperor smiled, as if a dear friend had just returned from a long journey.

“How have you been, Xianle?” he said warmly.

Despite himself, Xie Lian smiled in return. “I’ve been — well — for the most part,” he said.

Jun Wu rose from his seat and descended towards Xie Lian. He acted as if seeing Xie Lian barefoot, barely-dressed and with unbound hair was nothing unusual. “You disappointed me, Xianle,” he said quietly. “When we last saw each other, I told you to remain in touch… but instead, you disappeared completely. No one in Heaven has even seen you since your second banishment — five hundred years ago.”

Xie Lian sighed. “I didn’t mean to disappear. I was just very, very… busy during that time. Besides,” he added ruefully, “I didn’t think that after last time, anyone would be eager to see me again.”

Jun Wu inclined his head, and gave him an odd, sad look.

Xie Lian looked around himself. The vast great hall was full of other Heavenly Officials, both Upper and Middle, but they were all on the far half of the room. It allowed him and Jun Wu some measure of privacy — at least, the pretense of one, though many of those people were watching from a distance. The man in black, who had seemingly broken loose from the woman with the fan, was coming closer, but still keeping his distance.

Xie Lian dropped down to his knees on the cold stone floor, startling Jun Wu. “My Lord, I want to ask that I be allowed to leave immediately.”

Jun Wu smiled a little incredulously. "You just arrived, Xianle.”

“I know — and I wouldn’t stay away for long. It’s just that I was in the middle of something very important with… with someone important to me. I know he’ll be very upset and worried about me if I don't return.”

The emperor sank back onto his throne, gazing down at Xie Lian below his dais. “I’m sure this person will be able to survive without you for the day,” he said, though his voice was kind. “Don’t worry, I won’t keep you much longer. We simply have some details to iron out.”

More gods were approaching from every side — martial gods, civil gods, literature gods, and various Middle Heaven officials who buzzed around their employers. Mu Qing and Feng Xin had stationed themselves nearby, both conspicuously looking as if they had just happened to end up on those spots, rather than choosing to stand nearby.

The man in black was also nearby, though he seemed more interested in observing Xie Lian than in actually interacting with him. He was handsome in a pallid kind of way, like someone who didn’t see the sun often, and there was an oddly grim, annoyed expression on his face. Xie Lian found himself wondering if he had offended this man somehow. Maybe Xie Lian had accientally collapsed his palace, and he wanted to confront him—

“Hello, your highness.”

A woman’s smooth, pleasant voice spoke from nearby. It was Ling Wen, the foremost civil god, and Jun Wu’s most trusted aide. She was dressed in neat, understated dark robes, and her smooth black hair was tucked back into an elegant but practical style.

Xie Lian smiled faintly. “Hello, Ling Wen.”

“Welcome back to Heaven. You made quite a stir upon your return.”

Xie Lian flinched. “I’m sorry. I must have made your job substantially more difficult, with all the destruction.”

If Ling Wen was upset about it, then she gave no sign of it — her face was as calm and unruffled as a pool of motionless water. She produced a scroll from one of her sleeves, and approached Jun Wu with it.

“I’ve calculated the cost of the necessary repairs to the Grand Avenue of Divine Might, the palaces that will need to be repaired or rebuilt, and that bell that fell during the crown prince’s ascension. This is only an estimate, but I find that the cost will be substantial.”

Jun Wu frowned as he opened the scroll, and surveyed the contents.

Xie Lian’s fingers dug into the cloak as Ling Wen turned to speak to him once again, her expression grave. “I’m afraid, your highness, that the overall sum that you owe various Heavenly Officials, including the Palace of Divine Might, is approximately eight point eight eight million merits.”

A silence fell over the great hall, broken only by a few gasps from those who were listening.

Xie Lian sagged a little at the number Ling Wen had just quoted. He had known that the price would be terrifyingly large, but nearly nine million merits… it was staggering. Even at the height of his fame and power, when half the temples of Xianle had been dedicated to its crown prince, nine million merits would have been difficult for him to obtain. Today, with only one worshiper and no temples or shrines…

Feng Xin made a strange strangled noise, as if something was stuck in his throat.

Xie Lian winced. He could tell that the entire situation was awkward for Feng Xin, who probably didn’t want to see or hear about the prince of Xianle. He was a powerful and revered warrior god — he probably didn’t look back fondly on his days as Xie Lian’s bodyguard, especially after the fall of Xianle and Xie Lian’s first banishment.

“I’m very sorry, General Nan Yang,” he said quietly. “I promise, I will find a way to repay you as quickly as I can. I… simply need some time.”

Feng Xin stared at him wordlessly, and then quickly looked at Ling Wen, as if he wanted to say something more.

But he didn’t have the opportunity. Jun Wu leaned forward in his seat, his face solemn and his eyes the color of stormclouds. “Xianle,” he said in a low but piercing voice. “It would probably be for the best if you stayed in the Heavenly Capital until we come up with some… method for you to obtain merit credits.”

“No!” Xie Lian blurted out.

A surprised ripple ran through the gods present. While Jun Wu could be debated and reasoned with, only the bravest — or stupidest — of the gods would dare to shout a denial at him.

Xie Lian’s fingers clutched at the black cloak draped around his shoulders. “My apologies. I’m very sorry,” he said in a quieter voice. “I mean no disrespect, my lord. I will gladly do whatever is necessary to repay my debt, for as long as is necessary. But I cannot stay here right now.”

“Why?” Mu Qing said with a hint of a sneer. “Is there somewhere more important you need to be?”

“Yes,” Xie Lian said. “Or rather, I need to be with someone. I…” His face flushed, and he lowered his face slightly. “For the past six months, I’ve been with someone who is very… very special to me. And I need to see him again before I do anything more in the Heavenly Capital.”

Mu Qing looked a little stunned at hearing that, and swiftly glanced at Feng Xin. Xie Lian wasn’t surprised — his former attendant had chosen to cultivate the same path that Xie Lian had, forsaking love in the process. As far as he knew — he had quietly followed the heavenly careers of both his former servants — Mu Qing had never had a romantic relationship with anyone, and it probably came as a surprise to him that the crown prince of Xianle was now in love with someone.

“This man must be an exceptional person, Xianle,” Jun Wu said, smiling slightly. “May I ask what his name is?”

Xie Lian took a deep breath. “It’s… Hua Cheng.”

Chapter Text

The silence that followed was deafening. Not a single voice rose to respond to Xie Lian’s declaration — there weren't even any gasps of shock. It was as if everyone in Heaven had forgotten to breathe for a moment.

Then hundreds of voices began to speak all at once.

“— can’t be the same Hua Cheng, can it?”

“—outrageous! How he ascended when he’s—“

“—can’t be trusted! He’ll just betray us to his lover!”

Feng Xin felt as if someone had punched him in the jaw, the stomach, and the crotch. He stared blankly at Xie Lian, who was quietly waiting for Jun Wu to say something. His back was straight and his gaze was clear. For a moment, Feng Xin was transported back to his youth, when he had seen Xie Lian challenge the State Preceptor, or even his own father. He had looked exactly like that.

This wasn’t possible. Hua Cheng was a fucking monster — a vengeful, bloodthirsty creature that hated the gods and was responsible for the deaths of thirty-three of them. At least. Maybe he had killed even more with that cursed scimitar of his. His city swarmed with twisted, depraved ghosts, and all sorts of sick things happened in the gambling dens and brothels of that place.

A nauseous feeling settled into Feng Xin’s stomach. He could easily imagine Hua Cheng keeping a former Heavenly Official for his pleasure. Abusing and degrading someone like Xie Lian — someone once known for his purity and strength — would probably be the ultimate delight for someone who hated the gods.

And Xie Lian…

Guilt gnawed at Feng Xin’s insides. He had already felt guilt for leaving Xie Lian to his life of poverty and misery, especially with how badly things had gone for him after that. But to do this… this was something far worse. Had Xie Lian been so desperate, so fucking wretched, that he had no choice but to whore himself out to Hua Cheng?

“Your highness,” he whispered.

Mu Qing’s pale face had blanched to the color of snow. For once, he wasn’t rolling his eyes or sneering — he looked completely horrified. He looked the way Feng Xin felt.

If any of this bothered Xie Lian, he didn’t give any sign of him. He was just waiting for Jun Wu to reply to him. That wasn’t normal, was it? Feng Xin didn’t know what kind of powers Hua Cheng had, but… could he have bewitched Xie Lian somehow? Could Crimson Rain Sought Flower have confused his mind so that the prince thought he was actually in love?

His first thought was that he could drag Xie Lian back to his palace, tie him up, and keep him there until the spell on him could be stripped off. No, that wouldn’t work — his palace had collapsed. Dammit.

Jun Wu suddenly slammed his hand down on the arm of his throne, and a burst of powerful spiritual energy rippled through the room. The Heavenly Officials fell into an uneasy silence, as they waited for their emperor to speak again. But Jun Wu showed no signs of speaking further — he had apparently just wanted to shut them all up.

“I would also like to return,” Xie Lian said in a steady voice, “so that I may put on some clothes and boots. General Nan Yang has been kind enough to lend me this, but I would prefer to wear my own clothes.”

Jun Wu quickly covered his mouth to hide a faint smile. “You haven’t changed, Xianle,” he murmured.

Feng Xin’s first thought was that Jun Wu was full of shit. Xie Lian had been steadfast in his morals and his dedication to his cultivation during his first ascension. To go from that… to warming the bed of someone like Hua Cheng… it was a change so drastic that it made his head spin. But then again… the unwavering way he held himself and spoke when he believed he was right — that hadn’t changed.

Ling Wen uttered a polite cough. “Your highness,” she said quietly, “it’s possible that you don’t know everything about Hua Cheng.”

“I don’t?” Xie Lian said.

“Hua Cheng — also known as Crimson Rain Sought Flower — is a very dangerous individual. He brought about the end of thirty-three gods centuries ago, burning thousands of temples in the space of a single night. He is powerful enough to threaten all but the most powerful gods.”

Voices murmured in agreement. Feng Xin felt a little relief — maybe Xie Lian had just been ignorant of what Hua Cheng really was…

“Oh, I know,” Xie Lian said earnestly.

The voices were stilled again.

“You know?” Mu Qing said sharply.

“Yes. He told me himself. He said that he bet his ashes against their statuses as Heavenly Officials, and that when he beat them all, they wouldn’t honor their end of the bargain. So he burned their temples. Is that everything that happened?”

Xie Lian made it sound so reasonable, as if what Hua Cheng had done wasn’t terrifying. Feng Xin was starting to get a headache.

“Yes,” Ling Wen said slowly. “I believe that is the entire story. Heaven lost a great deal of face.”

There was a strange kind of uneasy serenity to Xie Lian’s face — his eyes were clear and limpid despite the strange circumstances, but he also seemed to be almost squirming to leave. Most gods, when they ascended, were delighted to remain in the Heavenly Capital, especially once they were granted their own palaces and allowed to select their Middle Heaven officials. Yet Xie Lian had been asking to leave ever since he arrived, as if he had been taken to Heaven by a freak accident.

Feng Xin was suddenly seized by the desire to shake Xie Lian and ask him if he had completely lost his fucking mind. Whatever had happened to the prince down in the mortal and ghost realms — whatever pain, poverty and desperation had driven him into Hua Cheng’s bed to be his personal pet — it was over now. He was somewhere where the ghost king couldn’t reach him. He was safe.

Never mind that fucking stupid debt — Feng Xin was going to cancel his portion of it as soon as he could get Ling Wen alone. That would probably eradicate millions of merits.

Almost all the other gods seemed to be murmuring amongst themselves now. Even Ling Wen was leaning to Jun Wu’s throne to whisper to him, and the Emperor was listening intently to her. No, actually there were one other god who wasn’t saying anything. One was the Earth Master Ming Yi, who was staring silently at Xie Lian with an annoyed expression. The other was was Mu Qing, whose face seemed to be shifting between thin-lipped anger and a kind of sulky intentness—

Then a piercing scream cut through the murmurs. One female god was pointing a trembling hand at Xie Lian.

“Look!” she quavered. “Look!”

Feng Xin hadn’t noticed it at first. Xie Lian was looking at his own shoulder with a surprised expression. A pleased expression. Perched on the end of his collarbone was a delicate little silver butterfly, spun from misty light, emanating a glow like the moon.

Chapter Text

There was no Heavenly Official — except Xie Lian, and possibly Jun Wu — who didn’t flinch at the thought of those silver butterflies. They were a sure signal that Hua Cheng was near. Even if the ghost king didn’t show up in person, the wraith butterflies were powerful weapons despite their ethereal prettiness. Their wings could slice through the thickest armor like a sword through paper, reduce even a god to a mass of blood and torn flesh.

“Your highness!” Feng Xin shouted. “Don’t—“

But Xie Lian had already let the butterfly crawl onto his fingertip, its wings glowing and flapping as if it were happy to be there. His lips were curved in a gentle smile.

“It’s all right,” he said fondly. “He’s not hurting anyone.”

But then another butterfly soared past Xie Lian’s head. And another. A third. A fourth. A dozen more — little glimmering ghost butterflies that wreathed his head like little patches of moonlight. More were flooding into the great hall from who-knew where, multiplying with every passing moment. He looked around in confusion, not sure where they were flooding in from.

It wasn’t out of fear. Xie Lian wasn’t afraid of the butterflies, any more than he was afraid of Hua Cheng. They tended to mirror the feelings of their maker, and whenever they were near, they walked delicately on Xie Lian’s skin, leaving little patches of warmth like kisses. Their wings were as soft as silk whenever they touched him.

“Shields!” one martial god bellowed, drawing his sword.

Xie Lian glanced over at the crowd, startled. Martial gods had drawn their swords and erected shields around themselves and some of the civil gods — others had retreated towards the far wall, as far as they could. Countless scurrying footsteps, shouts of outrage and fear as they tried to figure out where those damned butterflies were coming from…

Suddenly the doors at the far end of the hall began to tremble. They were massive, so heavy that even a god could not budge them — they were moved entirely by the power of Jun Wu. Yet something was making them tremble on their hinges — and when they burst open, thousands of silver butterflies streamed across the air over the gods’ heads. High keening screams came from the tiny creatures as they sliced through the hall, their wings leaving slashes in the banners and hangings that were draped on the walls.

Some of the gods were panicked enough to run across the butterflies’ path. Their shrill cries rang out as the razor-sharp wings slashed through skin and flesh, leaving their elegant silken robes as bloody rags. Most of them tumbled to the floor and tried to cover their heads.

Every single butterfly was flying towards Xie Lian.

They whirled and spun around him like a waterspout, the wind of their wings whipping his hair around his body. The edges of their wings brushed him like scraps of silk, like the brush of Hua Cheng’s lips. Their silver light enveloped him, making him look as if he were ascending again.

“You don’t need to do this!” Xie Lian cried out. “I’m all right!”

He could barely see the other gods through the whirling butterflies — just the vague shapes of Jun Wu and Ling Wen, of Mu Qing, Feng Xin and the man in black. None of them came any closer — even the emperor of the gods seemed to be wary of coming too close to the butterflies. There was a fury to their movements that was frightening to behold, as if they held every ounce of the anger of their master.

Suddenly a few hundred silver butterflies broke away from the swarm, and settled down into a shape before Jun Wu. The emperor’s brow creased as the butterflies took the rough form of a tall, lean man made of moving wings and silver light. There was no subservience in the man’s stance — he stood before Jun Wu as if they were equals.

“Let him go.”

The deep, angry voice echoed through the room, even louder than the screech of the butterflies. Even those who had never encountered Crimson Rain Sought Flower in any form knew whose voice it was.

Xie Lian looked around helplessly at the butterflies, not sure what he should do next. He stretched out his hands to them, beseeching them to calm down — and several of them immediately landed on his arms, little patches of warmth and light that clung to him.

“You don’t need to do this,” Xie Lian whispered.

He didn’t know if Hua Cheng could hear him through the butterflies, but he hoped that he could. The ghost king must be enraged beyond reason to dare to invade Heaven like this. Not just Heaven — the Palace of Divine Might itself. He had to calm Hua Cheng down somehow before he did something that would send the gods into an all-out war with him.

And then, something seemed to change. The violence of the butterflies’ flight intensified as they spiraled up towards the high vaulted ceilings, and began flying in wild, seething waves across the golden-and-white pillars. A few of them stayed with Xie Lian, crawling in his hair, across his face, into the thin white robe that clung to his body.

Mu Qing was glaring at him with visible discomfort, and Feng Xin looked horrified. He took a step towards Xie Lian, with a sword in one hand, and the other outstretched, as if he planned to pluck all the butterflies from Xie Lian.

“Don’t try to touch them!” Xie Lian said quickly. “They won’t cut me, but they will cut you.”

Feng Xin drew his hand back, but he still seemed visibly disturbed by the sight of the butterflies fluttering their wings against Xie Lian’s bare skin. As if mocking him, one of the butterflies flew up to Xie Lian’s face, and landed on his bottom lip. Like a kiss.

“My lord…”

Ling Wen’s voice caught Xie Lian’s attention. She didn’t sound afraid or angry about the roiling mass of butterflies or the fact that a ghost king had just attacked the Palace of Divine Might. She sounded more… confused. Her eyes were wide and unseeing, and she had two fingers pressed to her temple.

“His highness’s debt just… unexpectedly reduced. Approximately twenty thousand merits suddenly flooded in… and another twenty thousand just appeared… no, now it’s more like fifty thousand… one hundred thousand…” Her voice wavered slightly. “Slightly over three hundred thousand merits… and the amount is still increasing…”

Jun Wu’s eyes widened slightly.

“I think it might be a good idea,” a martial god standing nearby said in an even, measured voice, “to allow the crown prince to leave for the time being. He hasn’t asked to leave on a permanent basis, and he obviously isn’t in any danger from Hua Cheng. Why not address the issues of his ascension at a later date?”

Jun Wu inclined his head slightly. “What you say is true, General Ming Guang. I will leave it to Xianle’s discretion,” he said solemnly.

Relief flooded through Xie Lian like a mouthful of cool water. He glanced up at the butterflies still flooding the ceiling, waiting for him to move, and quickly bowed before Jun Wu. “I will be back before long,” he said. “I simply need to settle a few things first.”

Jun Wu’s lips rose into an imperceptibly small smile. He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes fixed on Xie Lian’s. “Go, Xianle. But don’t stay away too long. You are a god again — the first to ascend thrice — and I don’t want you to risk that existence for anything.”

“Six hundred thousand merits,” Ling Wen said quietly.

The butterflies cascaded down from the ceiling as Xie Lian began walking back through the palace, flying around him. They flew in front of him, behind him, on both sides of him. The other gods parted to let him pass, giving a wide berth to the butterflies as they flowed around him like a silver river running through the heavens. For a moment, everyone there forgot that he was the laughingstock of the three realms, and saw only his quiet dignity and grace, surrounded by a a halo of shimmering light.

Chapter Text

Before he made it to the gates of Heaven, Ling Wen stopped him. The butterflies swarmed around them both, their faint screeches ringing out as they prepared to attack. But she didn’t seem to be afraid of them — or if she was, she hid it well.

“Your highness,” she said politely. “I thought that before you left, I should give you the password to the communications array.”

“Oh,” Xie Lian said softly. “Thank you. It’s been so long and so much has happened, I had completely forgotten it.”

Of course, he suspected he wouldn’t be able to communicate through the array — that required spiritual power, and his spiritual power had been sealed ever since his first banishment. That seal would remain unless he asked Jun Wu to remove it — and he wasn’t planning to do that. He had asked for the cursed shackles, and time had not erased the sins that he was trying to atone for.

Ling Wen’s calm dark eyes flickered towards the butterflies. “Be careful, your highness,” she said in a low voice. “Hua Cheng is not a safe person to displease. Destruction is a part of who he is — he slaughtered his way to power at Mount Tonglu in order to become a ghost king, and his power came at the expense of thousands of other ghosts. If you somehow offend him, he might harm you, even if you are now a god.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Xie Lian said, pasting a small smile on his face. “I’ll be all right. He won’t hurt me.”

Ling Wen said nothing more, but he could tell from the set of her jaw that she didn’t believe it.

It had been five hundred years since Xie Lian had descended from Heaven to the mortal realm, and he was out-of-practice enough that he hit a cloud on the way down, nearly crashed into a mountain, and did crash into a tree. He ended up lying by the side of a road, gasping and disoriented, covered in bruises from the branches he had fallen through.

The butterflies seemed to be concerned about this — they swarmed over him, emanating warmth from their tiny bodies. Xie Lian felt the wings of one fluttering against a scrape on his cheek, and he felt a tiny burst of spiritual power sinking into his flesh. And another, on his shoulder. A third, on the ugly bruise rising on his shin. The pain of his injuries began to fade slightly, until he was able to sit up against a tree trunk and catch his breath.

He closed his eyes, trying to work up the strength to get up and start walking towards Hua Cheng. He had forgotten to ask someone to lend him some boots, so his feet were still bare. Feng Xin’s cloak was still wrapped around him, though it had gotten rather dirty when he hit the ground. He just hoped that it didn’t start raining — while he couldn’t easily become ill from the cold and wet, it would be very uncomfortable in his current undressed state.

A butterfly slipped inside Xie Lian’s robe and sank into his bruised skin, and he shivered slightly. More of them were sinking into him now, leaving spots of warmth shimmering in his flesh. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought that it felt like there was affection in the way those butterflies sacrificed themselves to heal him — as if each one was a touch from Hua Cheng, even when he wasn’t there…

“Gege.”

His eyes flew open as he heard the voice, so quiet and yet so passionate. Hua Cheng was standing among the trees on the opposite side of the road, more butterflies circling him with their pale light. His hair looked disheveled, and there was a fierce light glinting in his eye.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian breathed.

He barely had time to raise his arms before Hua Cheng was between them, holding Xie Lian as tightly as he dared. The dark bruises and scrapes on his pale skin were impossible to miss, and the ghost king’s face tightened into a stark, angry mask as he looked down at Xie Lian’s face. He touched the scrape on Xie Lian’s cheekbone, and his hand trembled with anger.

“You’re hurt,” Hua Cheng whispered. “What did they do to you? Who did it? When I find them—”

“It wasn’t then,” Xie Lian said quickly. “I — did it to myself. By accident.” He smiled ruefully, running his hands gently over Hua Cheng’s pale cheeks. “It’s been a long time since I descended to the mortal realm from Heaven, and… I’m a little out of practice.”

Hua Cheng didn’t seem satisfied by this explanation. As carefully and gently as he could, he pulled Xie Lian’s sleeping robe open, and examined the mottled green-and-black bruises on his chest, stomach and side. Then he examined the ugly scratches on Xie Lian’s left leg, which had gotten caught in a thick tree bough on his way down. Then his fingers, so cool and so gentle, probed the shallow cut on Xie Lian’s upper arm, which had slashed through the fabric of his sleeping robe, and spotted the silk with blood.

Xie Lian saw anger starting to stir in Hua Cheng’s eye, and he suspected he knew already what the ghost king was thinking — that he wouldn’t have any of these injuries if he hadn’t ascended again. Maybe that the gods should have escorted him down so he wouldn’t have hurt himself by falling from the treetops.

So he raised his arms and twined them around Hua Cheng’s neck, burying his face in the taller man’s throat. “I’m all right, San Lang,” he whispered. “Don’t worry about me.”

He felt a tremor pass through Hua Cheng’s body at the sudden touch, and silken black hair spilled over the side of his face as the ghost king bent to receive his embrace. More than ever, Hua Cheng looked as if he was worshiping the god in front of him — a god covered in scratches and bruises, with leaves and twigs tangled in his hair. But none of that was reflected in his jet-black eye — only awe, and a desperate kind of hunger.

“You came back,” Hua Cheng said hoarsely.

“Yes.”

“You came back to me.”

“Of course I did,” Xie Lian said, raising one hand to stroke Hua Cheng’s hair. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

Hua Cheng turned his face slightly towards Xie Lian’s hand, as if he craved the touch even more than he had before. “I couldn’t be sure,” he said faintly. “I knew they would try to keep you from me… but I didn’t know if you would want to stay with them.”

“Why would I?”

Hua Cheng’s face twisted slightly. He didn’t answer in words, merely pressing his lips against Xie Lian’s palm with fierce desperation. His hands roamed slowly over Xie Lian’s body, as if he were trying to reassure himself that his god was really there. Xie Lian gazed up at him as he cradled Hua Cheng’s face between his hands, studying every movement of his eye and his features, feeling the bone-deep urge to hold him close again.

For a moment, he was struck by a memory — a small child with that enormous black eye, clinging to Xie Lian’s robes with all his strength. Hua Cheng might be a tall, powerful man now, but Xie Lian saw that vulnerability and desperation still inside him. He gave in to the urge, and wrapped his arms around Hua Cheng again, holding him as tightly as he could.

"I want to stay with you,” Xie Lian whispered. “Even if I have to go to Heaven occasionally, I will always come back to you. They can’t keep me away from you.”

Glowing butterflies fluttered around them as Hua Cheng clung to his god, so tightly that Xie Lian could barely breathe. But he didn’t want it to stop — he wanted Hua Cheng to hold him so tightly that neither of them could tell where one of them ended and the other began. Hua Cheng’s mouth was on his throat, hungrily kissing him with the occasional bite, sending delicious shivers through Xie Lian’s entire body.

For a moment, he wondered if Hua Cheng would make love to him right here, on the pine-needle-strewn floor of some nameless forest far from Ghost City. It wasn’t as comfortable as their bedroom, but Xie Lian would have gladly accepted it. Even with the scrapes and bruises littering his body, it ached for Hua Cheng.

But Hua Cheng’s arms loosened around him, and instead lifted him up as if he were a bride being held by her groom. “Let’s go home, gege,” he said softly.

Chapter Text

It had taken all of Feng Xin’s self-control to not rush after Xie Lian when he left.

It had been those fucking butterflies, of course. Just looking at them made his blood turn to ice — he had seen what kind of horrors those creatures could wreak when Hua Cheng wanted them to. During the ghost king’s duels with the martial gods, both combatants had unleashed every power they had — and Hua Cheng had subdued more than one enemy with his butterflies. Seeing them fluttering around Xie Lian, crawling over his body, face and hair… Feng Xin had just been waiting for them to suddenly turn into little silver blades and slash at his flesh.

And when Xie Lian left, they had surrounded him on every side, making sure that none of the gods got too close to him. It was the only thing that had kept Feng Xin from tackling him to the floor and dragging him to some safe location, far from Hua Cheng. Of course, if Hua Cheng could flood the Palace of Divine Might with butterflies, he might be able to get Xie Lian even if they had kept him in Heaven.

Hell, Hua Cheng had all but manifested in front of Jun Wu himself through those butterflies, and had given him an order. Where did he get that kind of fucking nerve?

Other gods were filing out of the Palace of Divine Might, and not a single one was talking about anything other than Xie Lian.

“… absolute insanity. Can’t believe…”

“… five hundred years, and he’s sunk so low…”

“I can’t believe he knows what Hua Cheng is and doesn’t care…”

“… remember when he was considered a paragon? The hypocrite!”

Feng Xin’s head was throbbing. He wanted to punch everyone there, and then retreat to his palace to seethe over the events of the day. Except that Xie Lian had toppled his palace. Dammit.

Well, at least it wouldn’t take long for temporary structures to be erected, and probably only a few days before his palace was rebuilt. He was just about to storm off to Ling Wen’s palace to inquire further when her cool, calm voice came from just behind him.

“General Nan Yang?”

Feng Xin looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“The Emperor wishes to speak to you.”

That was an invitation that nobody dared to turn down. Even Xie Lian, as strange as he was, had immediately come running when Jun Wu summoned him.

The Palace of Divine Might was mostly empty by now, except for the richly-clad Middle Heaven officials that swiftly and silently walked through on their errands. The only gods left were a small cluster around Jun Wu’s throne, their voices low and hushed. The Emperor himself was resting his head on his raised fist, his expression grave and thoughtful. He had exhibited that expression ever since Xie Lian had left.

Unfortunately, one of them was Mu Qing. His face was somewhere between a disdainful sneer and a look of grim resignation, and Feng Xin had never wanted to punch him more.

The other gods were ones Feng Xin recognized but didn't really know well. There was General Ming Guang, Pei Ming, whom Feng Xin mostly knew for his reputation for chasing anything in a skirt. There was Shi Wudu, the arrogant Water Master, and his flighty younger brother Shi Qingxuan, who was now in his male form. Beside him was the ever-reticient Earth Master, who looked as if he would rather be anywhere but here.

“… didn’t behave like a prisoner,” Pei Ming was saying, his arms crossed over his chest. “He didn’t seem afraid either.”

Mu Qing scoffed. “I suppose if he’s desperate enough to come to Hua Cheng’s bed, he might be able to convince himself that he likes it.”

The only reason Feng Xin didn’t bury his fist in Mu Qing’s face was because they were in front of the Emperor. “Maybe Hua Cheng has put some kind of spell on him.”

“I didn’t detect any trace of a spell on him,” Jun Wu said gravely.

“I thought he seemed very clear-headed,” Shi Qingxuan said thoughtfully, fanning himself. “It was odd how he kept asking to leave. If I were in his place, becoming a god again after five hundred years, I would have been deliriously happy.”

“It’s not just how the prince acted,” Pei Ming argued. “It’s also how Hua Cheng acted.”

“Like an insolent intruder?” Shi Wudu said sharply.

“Think about the ‘why’ of his actions and not the ‘how,’” Pei Ming said. “He invaded the Palace of Divine Might and implicitly threatened everyone present, all to demand that the crown prince be allowed to leave. Why would he do that?”

Feng Xin stared at Pei Ming, aghast. He couldn’t be suggesting what Feng Xin thought he was suggesting, could he? Hua Cheng was a monster — a cursed creature that brought destruction in his wake. He was clever, sly, cruel, bloodthirsty. More than any of that, in all his time as a ghost king, there had never been the slightest hint that he cared about anyone or anything. It made him even more dangerous and unpredictable.

There was no way he could see Xie Lian as anything more than a plaything to show his contempt for the heavens. People didn’t change their entire personalities like that.

And yet… and yet…

In the back of Feng Xin’s mind, a sliver of doubt began to appear. Hua Cheng had invaded the Palace of Divine Might, the home of the Emperor himself, and in so doing had challenged all of Heaven. Even for someone as powerful and clever as he was, that was an insanely risky move, especially if Jun Wu decided to retaliate. As far as Feng Xin knew, no ghost had ever dared to extend his power into Heaven like this — not even the terrifying White No-Face, the strongest of the four ghost kings.

But Hua Cheng had done it… for Xie Lian.

If he only saw the prince as a pretty plaything, then… why would he go to such lengths to retrieve him? Why would he want to retrieve him in the first place, if it would be an inconvenience? There were other banished gods that he could probably tempt into serving him. Hell, if Xie Lian was bewitched to want to go back to him, why did Hua Cheng even bother invading Heaven if he knew the newly-reascended god would return to him as quickly as he could?

Feng Xin pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling a headache brewing behind his eyes. The longer he thought about this, the more uncertain he felt and the more questions he found himself asking. He had had a very, very unpleasant day, and all he wanted to do was find a quiet place to beat his head against a wall.

“If the prince of Xianle wants to be with a ghost king, I say let him,” Pei Ming remarked.

“I’m not surprised you don’t see anything wrong with it,” Mu Qing snapped. “Everyone knows you’d never turn down a pretty ghost.”

Pei Ming smirked. “If a maiden died without knowing love, who I am to disappoint her?”

Shi Wudu made an exasperated sound. “This isn’t the time or place for that, Pei.”

Mu Qing smirked scornfully. “My point was that General Ming Guang isn’t exactly the person I’d go to for advice when it comes to dalliances with ghosts. You could say he has a bias.”

Feng Xin really wanted to hit Mu Qing. Not because he necessarily disagreed with him about Pei Ming, but just because he suspected it would make him feel better.

“I’m not sure why everyone is so upset,” Shi Qingxuan said thoughtfully. “His highness has probably needed a friend over the years before his ascension.”

Everyone ignored him.

Jun Wu had listened to the bickering mostly in silence, but now he raised his hand. “General Xuan Zhen — General Nan Yang,” he said in his deep, imposing voice. “If I remember correctly, both of you were the Prince of Xianle’s servants during your mortal lives. His bodyguard and his attendant, I believe.”

Feng Xin’s jaw tightened. “We were, my lord. That was a long time ago, obviously.”

“And you have had no contact with him since before his second ascension, correct?”

More guilt speared through Feng Xin’s heart, as if someone had shot him with an arrow.

“None, my lord,” Mu Qing said.

Jun Wu frowned. “It’s not ideal. Still, you are the only ones that we know that the prince has been friendly with in the past, since he disappeared so effectively for five hundred years. He might still be willing to listen to you.” A crease appeared between his brows. “Ling Wen, how much of the prince’s debt still remains?”

“About two hundred thousand merits,” Ling Wen said. “I expect the debt to be fully paid within the hour.”

Jun Wu looked even more perturbed. “I think we can reasonably assume that Hua Cheng was the one who provided those merits. I find it rather disturbing that he learned of the prince’s debt so soon after it was incurred — almost as soon as it was calculated.” His eyes slid around the room to the various faces, before moving back to Feng Xin. “General Nan Yang,” he said cordially. “I understand that when the prince first ascended, you attempted to cover him with your cloak.”

Feng Xin had almost forgotten that. He had done it almost out of instinct, the way he would have covered Xie Lian back in Xianle if the prince had somehow ended up half-naked in public. It had been five hundred years, but he didn’t even have to think about protecting Xie Lian.

“Yes," he said guardedly.

“Did you speak to him?”

“Yes.”

“Did he speak to you?”

“He… he asked how I was doing.” More guilt spread through him like poisoned blood. It was all he could do not to squirm. “And he thanked me for lending him my cloak.”

“Did he seem angry or resentful?”

“No.” That made it even worse, Feng Xin thought bleakly. A part of him would have been relieved if Xie Lian had lashed out at him, or at least been cold and distant. Instead he had been kind and a little awkward, like a humbled version of his old self.

Jun Wu mulled over this for a moment, tapping a finger lightly against the arm of his throne. “Well, then,” he said at last. “I think I know what to do next.”

Chapter Text

It was times like this that Hua Cheng was glad he had developed his dice. It saved Xie Lian from being carried half-naked through the streets of Ghost City, to be gawked at by everyone there. Instead, the magical devices carried them straight from that lonely forest to their own bedroom, which had been tidied and repaired during Hua Cheng’s brief absence. It looked exactly as it had when Xie Lian ascended.

Hua Cheng lowered Xie Lian to the silk sheets, feeling his god sigh with relief. Then he winced, as an ugly bruise on his shoulder blade came into contact with hard wood.

“Gege,” Hua Cheng said softly, his fingers stroking Xie Lian’s hair.

The expression of pain melted away, into a faint, soft smile. “Thank you,” Xie Lian breathed.

“For what?”

“For coming to find me… when I needed you…”

Hua Cheng wasn’t sure if he meant locating him in the forest, or for his display in Heaven before all the gods. He didn’t care. Xie Lian’s words from before were echoing in his mind and his heart — "I want to stay with you… I will always come back to you.” He felt as if he had waited for five hundred years to hear those words from Xie Lian. Every torment, every trial, every lonely year spent staring into the darkness… it was worth it to hear his god speak those simple words.

Overwhelmed, he knelt down and pressed his face against Xie Lian’s half-bare chest, wanting to feel that soft skin against his forehead and cheeks. The gentle rise and fall of his rib cage was as reassuring as a lullaby. After a moment of stillness, Xie Lian’s hand stroked his hair, gentle and loving, while his other hand rested on the back of Hua Cheng’s neck.

“San Lang,” the god whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Hua Cheng said, slipping his arms around Xie Lian’s waist. “Nothing is wrong, your highness. I’m just… so glad you’re back.”

“So am I,” Xie Lian murmured.

They stayed in that embrace for a long time, so long that Hua Cheng thought that Xie Lian had fallen asleep. But when he gently disentangled himself, he found that his prince — his god — was gazing up at him with luminous, soft eyes. He looked so languid, so tempting, that Hua Cheng was almost ready to resume what the ascension had interrupted.

But then his eye moved to the dark scrape on Xie Lian’s cheek, and then to the scratches, cuts and mottled bruising that his sleep robe only partially hid. First things first.

Hua Cheng swiftly fetched bandages, salves and ointment, and brought them to Xie Lian’s bedside. “Let me attend you, gege,” he said quietly.

He waited for Xie Lian to nod, before he carefully pushed up the hem of Xie Lian’s robe. Ugly scratches marred the pale skin of his thigh, reddened and inflamed. Hua Cheng slipped his fingers into a jar of salve, and gently rubbed the cooling paste on the scratches before winding the bandages around it. Then he gently moved on to the long, shallow cut on Xie Lian’s upper arm, which was crusted with blood under his ripped silk sleeve, smearing a different ointment on it and bandaging it as well.

Hua Cheng felt apprehension rising inside him as he treated the bruises littering Xie Lian’s arms and legs. More ugly, blackened bruises were visible through the thin silk of his robe — it looked like his stomach had hit a very thick branch on his way down — and Hua Cheng could tell that it was painful. For some reason, Xie Lian didn’t like to acknowledge anything but the worst pain — something like having his heart torn open — which meant that the blow to his belly must have been very harsh.

“Gege,” Hua Cheng said quietly. “Will you let me… take off your robe?”

The words hung in the air like his silver butterflies, and for a moment, Hua Cheng expected his god to refuse him. He had seen Xie Lian naked before — when he had carried the bleeding prince from his coffin and spent hours cleaning and bandaging him in this very bed. But having Xie Lian naked in his bed, awake and fully alive, was something else.

Then again, they had been only seconds from making love when he ascended. Relieving Xie Lian of his robe would probably have been the next step Hua Cheng would have taken.

Xie Lian looked slightly surprised — and more than a little nervous. But he nodded, and propped himself up on his elbows to help Hua Cheng slide the silk garment from his body.

Hua Cheng didn’t need to breathe, but his chest suddenly felt tight as he looked down at Xie Lian’s body, bare of even a scrap of cloth. He wasn't as painfully thin as he had been six months before, thankfully. Every part of him was beautiful — every curve of muscle, every slender limb, every expanse of snowy skin. No matter where Hua Cheng’s eye looked, he saw nothing but perfection, beauty, exquisiteness. Including his…

The ghost king turned away quickly, not daring to look at a certain part of Xie Lian’s body. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look — it was that he wanted to look too much. Fire flooded through his veins, turned his thoughts into a haze, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to pin Xie Lian to their bed and lose himself in that beautiful body…

“San Lang?” Xie Lian’s voice said behind him.

“Yes, gege?”

“Why are you turning away?” He sounded distressed that Hua Cheng could turn away from him. “I want you to look at me…”

“I want to look at you too, your highness,” Hua Cheng said hoarsely.

There was the sound of rustling silk. A slender hand grasped his sleeve, and pulled at it with alarming strength. Hua Cheng was forced to turn and face his god, who had pulled the sheet over his legs, groin and lower abdomen. His face almost glowed in the lamplight, and his soft unbound hair fell around his body.

“Can you look at me now?” he whispered.

Hua Cheng knelt by the bedside again, the salve jar clutched in his fist. His eye shone in the dim light as he gazed at Xie Lian’s bruised body. He had thought that when he found Xie Lian again — if his god even wanted to return with him — that they would simply pick up where they had been when the ascension had so cruelly interrupted them.

But he couldn’t make love to Xie Lian now, as much as he craved it. The painful, ugly bruises on his body — the possible cracked bones — the scrapes and cuts — he didn’t want to subject those injuries to the powerful desire that coiled inside him. Xie Lian was much stronger and more resilient than he looked, but Hua Cheng did not want his first intimate experience to be marred by unnecessary pain.

“I’m afraid that this is going to be unpleasant, your highness,” he said quietly.

“It doesn’t hurt that much,” Xie Lian said.

Hua Cheng’s response was to dip two fingers into the jar of salve, and then run them over the band of black-and-purple bruising on Xie Lian’s belly. He felt muscles tighten under his touch, and Xie Lian made a faint “ah!” sound that had nothing to do with pleasure.

Hua Cheng devoted himself to carefully applying the ointment to Xie Lian's bruised flesh, his hands brushing over the darkened skin as gently as he could. Xie Lian’s attitude towards his wounds sometimes made him anxious — it was as if centuries of suffering in mind and body had left him unable to respond normally to pain. One time, during one of Xie Lian's scrap-collecting missions, he had stepped on a nail, begun bleeding, and hadn’t told Hua Cheng until they had walked several miles.

Hua Cheng’s long fingers continued their journey to Xie Lian’s side and chest, where lighter bruises marred his pale skin. Xie Lian didn’t make any more sounds of pain — in fact, he seemed to be drooping drowsily forward, resting his head against Hua Cheng’s shoulder as the ghost massaged salve into his bruises and cuts. When the jar was empty, and the last of Xie Lian's injuries had been seen to, he was almost asleep in Hua Cheng’s arms.

Hua Cheng lowered him gently to the bed, pulling the sheet up to cover his bruised body. “Rest, gege,” he whispered.

But Xie Lian’s hands clung to the front of his robes, and refused to unclench. Hua Cheng gently tried to loosen his fingers for a moment, before giving up and sliding onto the bed beside him.

Chapter Text

Feng Xin was no stranger to using clones and false skins. He sometimes traveled the mortal realm in the guise of a mortal man, so he could observe his temples and worshipers up close. He couldn’t keep track of everything that was going on — hence the entire “Ju Yang” debacle, which had gone on for a decade before he noticed — but he liked to have a general idea of how things were going amongst his followers.

The disguise wasn’t what bothered him. It was where Jun Wu had politely and pleasantly ordered him to go: Ghost City.

Just the thought of the place made Feng Xin’s skin crawl. He had never been there in person. Ever since Hua Cheng had challenged him to a duel, he had been aware that the ghost king had some kind of grudge against him, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe he had pissed off Hua Cheng during his lifetime, and now that he had power, he was trying to get back at him. Whatever the reason, venturing into Ghost City would just give Hua Cheng an opportunity to target and attack him.

But that wasn't the only reason. Feng Xin liked to think of himself as a fairly decent person, and Ghost City... wasn’t a decent place. The ghosts and monsters there were twisted, chaotic and dangerous, which was the reason cultivators were able to make a living. The things he had heard about the place were disturbing and disgusting.

But it was also where Xie Lian seemed to be.

“Of all the Heavenly Officials,” Jun Wu had said, “you knew him best and longest. He trusted you with his life. So, General Nan Yang and General Xuan Zhen, will you attempt to find the prince of Xianle and see how he is being treated?”

It had been presented as a request, but Feng Xin knew an order when he heard one. So he agreed, bowed, and headed for the temporary palace that had been erected for him and his Middle Heaven officials.

He stared at himself in a bronze mirror, taking in the sight of his false appearance. He had chosen the form of a young man of about nineteen, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. He was fairly handsome, but not in a way that would make him stand out in a crowd. His clothing was dark, utilitarian, and plain — about what would be expected of a junior official of a martial god. In other words, the perfect unobtrusive Heavenly Official.

“Not bad,” he said to his reflection. “Not bad at all.”

But his stomach clenched as he reached the gates of his palace, and found a similarly good-looking young man with similar clothes waiting there. He had never seen this person before, but he could tell from the expression exactly who it was.

“It took you long enough,” Mu Qing said, a hint of a sneer in his voice.

“How long have you been creeping around my temporary palace?” Feng Xin shot back.

“Too long. Your taste in palaces is hideous.” Mu Qing wrinkled his nose. “This entire mission is destined for failure, so the sooner we get started, the sooner we can finish.”

“Why don’t you tell the Emperor that you think his orders are a waste of time?” Feng Xin snapped. “If you think it's a waste of your time, go home and leave everything to me.”

Mu Qing didn't reply to that, but he rolled his eyes.

They descended from Heaven to a spot near the thin border between the mortal realm and the ghost realm, a lonely road fringed with blackened, twisted trees. Even without looking around, Feng Xin could tell that the place was teeming with ghosts — their distinct dark qi was so thick that he felt like he was going to choke. In the forest around them, he could see ghost lanterns flickering palely, and dark misshapen silhouettes making their way through the murky, misty trees.

Feng Xin knew he had nothing to worry about — these were low-level ghosts, which could be easily disposed of by a pair of the most powerful martial gods. But he still didn’t want to make waves. If Hua Cheng got wind of a pair of Heavenly Officials heading into Ghost City, it might attract more attention than they wanted. Especially since, after his little intrusion into the Palace of Divine Might, he might be prepared for some kind of retaliation.

Then again, Feng Xin had heard that plenty of Heavenly Officials found their way into Ghost City for their own reasons. He had never met anyone who openly admitted that they had, but he had seen some gods get oddly tense when the subject came up. So maybe their entry wouldn’t be seen as that suspicious, if they pretended they were simply there for the general depravity.

Mu Qing strode off after the ghosts without a word, and Feng Xin quickly matched his pace. They could hear voices of all kinds from around them — and he didn’t like what they were saying.

“… handsome didis. I wonder if their faces would fit me?”

“—delicious, especially when it’s rotten—“

“—searching for my head everywhere but someone hid it—“

“—never seen Chengzhu so angry before…”

The last voice made Feng Xin freeze, and then veer off the road towards the ghosts who had been speaking. He knew that residents of Ghost City referred to Hua Cheng as their chengzhu, and they adored and feared him in equal measure — he was practically a god to them, though a twisted and fearsome one. The more he knew about what Hua Cheng was doing and thinking, the better.

“Oh yes!” another ghost said eagerly. “I know one of the serving maids in Paradise Manor, and she said he was ready to kill anyone who crossed his path. Kill them all over again! He tore open the walls, smashed all sorts of precious treasures like they were trash. He didn’t say a single word.”

The ghost who first spoke declared, “They said he’s calmed down now, but nobody knows what made him explode like that.”

“If we knew who made him mad, I’m sure they wouldn’t make it out of the city alive. We’d rip out their guts and give them to Chengzhu as a gift!” a third ghost said gleefully.

“If even his daozhang can't calm him down—“

The voices faded slightly as the ghosts darted away, and Feng Xin stumbled over a stone as he tried to follow. His heart was pounding like a drum, and his mind was swarming with thoughts about what the ghosts had been discussing. “His daozhang”? That could only be Xie Lian.

“It sounds like Hua Cheng wasn’t too happy about the prince ascending,” Mu Qing remarked coolly.

“He was probably worried that his highness would run away if he had a chance,” Feng Xin said tightly.

The two Heavenly Officials continued trekking through the misty forest, which eventually gave way to an expanse of dead grass and weeds. Ghostly qi was thick in the air, and Feng Xin just hoped that it was enough to hide that they were Heavenly Officials, at least for the moment. They were both hiding their spiritual energy — even if gods sometimes strayed into Ghost City, there was no reason to advertise it — and if they stayed in crowded areas, they might have a chance…

The thick mists ahead were suddenly ruptured by flashes of red light from lanterns that danced in the wind. On the other side of the vast crimson-painted gates were the dark shapes of buildings, and streets were filled with teeming, swarming masses of ghosts — everything from tiny floating ghost fires to colorful creatures like a boar-man who was carrying a severed, twitching human leg over one beefy shoulder.

“Wait,” Feng Xin said suddenly.

Mu Qing looked at him with distaste. “What now? Afraid?”

Feng Xin gave him a scathing look. “That. That’s what I’m talking about,” he said grimly. “I can’t stand your ass. I’ve never been able to. But right now we’re the only ones who can get his highness out of Hua Cheng’s clutches, and we can't do that if we’re fighting like we usually do.” His face darkened. “I don’t know if you care what happens to him now, but if you care even a little, you’ll agree to a truce until we can be sure he’s safe.”

Mu Qing stared at him expressionlessly for a moment, his mouth set in a thin line. “Agreed,” he said at last.

Chapter Text

“San Lang,” Xie Lian murmured. “Was it you?”

Hua Cheng looked down at the dark head resting against his chest. Xie Lian still looked as if he were asleep, his cheek pressed against the crimson robes and his lean body curled up against Hua Cheng’s. The ghost king was acutely aware that the only thing that separated him from his god’s nude body was a whisper-thin silk sheet.

“Was it me, what?” Hua Cheng said softly.

“I caused a lot of damage in Heaven… racked up a debt of millions of merits… but Ling Wen said that the debt was getting smaller. Did you do something?”

“Of course, gege.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing much. I just burned nine million sticks of incense.”

Xie Lian’s eyes snapped open. “Nine million… incense?” he said faintly.

Hua Cheng grinned at him, and stroked his fingers through Xie Lian’s hair. “It’s a small price to pay for gege. Of course, your temple will stink of incense for months.”

“But you didn’t need to…”

Hua Cheng lightly touched his fingertips under Xie Lian’s chin, and tilted his god’s face up towards him. “I wasn’t going to let you slave away to the trash in Heaven, just to pay off a debt for something you didn’t mean to do,” he said in a low voice. “If you don’t feel comfortable with that, you can pay me back when you have more merits and donations.”

Xie Lian sighed. “If I ever do. It’s been five hundred years since I had more than one believer. Others have forgotten me, or think of me as a bringer of misfortune.”

Hua Cheng pressed his lips fervently to Xie Lian’s. When they parted, he whispered, “I will never forget you, gege,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen you at the heights of power and glory, and I’ve seen you struggle when the whole world was against you. But even when you were an outcast that other spat upon, even when you couldn’t believe in yourself or anyone else, you were still someone who would pay his last few coins to free ghost fires and help them pass on.”

Xie Lian’s lips tilted up slightly. “You told me even back then that you had a beloved,” he said softly, “but I always thought that it was a beauty that had captured your heart so completely that you would never move on.”

“A beauty did capture my heart,” Hua Cheng murmured. “He is the only reason I exist.”

His hand traced the bare skin just under Xie Lian’s collarbone, the affinity knot on his middle finger brushing over the bruises. Xie Lian shivered at his touch, and moved his chest slightly closer to Hua Cheng’s long fingers. As Hua Cheng enfolded his god in his arms, and captured his lips in a long lingering kiss, he had to resist the urge to pull the sheet aside and take what Xie Lian had offered him before.

They shared a long intoxicating kiss that left Xie Lian panting, and sent warmth streaming through Hua Cheng as if his heart had begun to beat again. His hands roamed across Xie Lian’s body, seeking to caress his god to show even a shred of his adoration. He kept his touch gentle, but he still felt Xie Lian twitch when something was pressed a little too hard.

When they parted, Hua Cheng clasped Xie Lian close to him, resting his cheek against his beloved’s temple. “There’s one thing I’m curious about, gege,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“You don’t feel any different as a god.”

Xie Lian blinked at him, confused.

“Not just your body, gege,” Hua Cheng clarified. “Gods are wellsprings of spiritual power and magic. But I don’t feel any emanating from you even now…”

Xie Lian sighed. “It’s because of this,” he said softly, touching his fingertips to his throat. He always kept a bandage wrapped around his neck, to hide the cursed shackle that bound him.

Hua Cheng’s eye widened. “I thought that when you ascended, it would disappear.”

“Normally that’s what happens when a banished god ascends. It happened at my second ascension, for as long as it lasted. But the ones on my body… won’t.”

Rage began to thread its way through Hua Cheng’s mind, and once again he was tempted to tear his way through the Palace of Divine Might, laying waste to everything in it. Including Jun Wu, that posing arrogant dictator who had dared to banish Xie Lian twice. He didn’t care if Jun Wu was the Emperor of Heaven — Hua Cheng would gladly tear his head from his shoulders if that would serve Xie Lian.

Xie Lian must have seen his face darkening, because he quickly said, “It’s not what you think, San Lang. They’re still here because… I asked for them.”

Hua Cheng felt as if he had been slapped awake. He stared dumbly at his beloved’s face for a moment, seeing nothing but the clarity and purity in Xie Lian’s wide, limpid eyes.

"You... asked…” he said faintly.

Xie Lian sighed again. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew it would upset you. I… asked Jun Wu to put these cursed shackles on me when I was banished for the second time.”

Hua Cheng’s cool fingertips brushed the bandage on Xie Lian’s throat, as if he wanted to rip it away. “I don’t understand…”

Pain flickered in Xie Lian’s eyes, as their conversation dredged up ugly old memories that he had stored away in the recesses of his mind. “I… deserved it. You remember the things I did then, and what almost happened to the kingdom of Yong’an because of me. Countless people almost died horrible, cursed deaths because I wanted revenge.”

His arms were suddenly around Hua Cheng, gripping him with strength that could have broken a mere mortal’s spine. “And there was one other thing. I was responsible for the death of my only believer, the only person who still loved and believed in me in the entire world. I couldn’t let myself go unpunished for what happened to him.”

Hua Cheng’s lips grazed his ear. “You still have him, gege. No matter what happens. You only lost him temporarily.”

“It doesn’t change what I did,” Xie Lian said bleakly. “I almost destroyed you because of my own cruelty and hate, and I… needed to remember that always. I needed to remember you.”

He buried his face in Hua Cheng’s chest. After a moment, he felt the body against his transforming — becoming a little shorter, a little slighter, the crimson robes turning into the plain black ones of a young warrior of Xianle. The man holding him — barely more than a boy — had his ink-black hair tied back in a high ponytail, and his face was hidden by a smiling mask. He had haunted Xie Lian’s nightmares for hundreds of years after, when he relived the moments when his only remaining believer had been torn apart by angry ghosts.

“To die for you,” Hua Cheng said softly, “was my greatest honor.”

Tears pricked the corners of Xie Lian’s eyes. “I was so cruel to you,” he whispered.

“You weren’t—“

“I was. Cruel. Cold. Selfish. I took you for granted and ground your offerings into the dust, but you never stopped following me. Not even for a moment.” He clutched at Hua Cheng’s — Wuming’s — back, crushing his face against his shoulder. In turn, he felt Hua Cheng’s arms wrapping around him, trying to be careful of his bruises. “I didn’t deserve you. I never had the chance to thank you… or to tell you how sorry I am.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Hua Cheng murmured. “I am only here because of you — thanks are never necessary, and neither are apologies. If you wanted to tear out my heart and crush it to dust, I would kneel before you and bare my chest.”

Xie Lian wordlessly shook his head, and held Hua Cheng tighter. The bruises on his chest and stomach were starting to hurt, but he couldn’t bring himself to loosen his grip. Instead, he felt Hua Cheng’s body shift slightly against him as he changed from Wuming’s form back to his true appearance — clad in crimson, right eye covered with a patch, and his unmasked face pressed against Xie Lian’s forehead.

They lay in silence for a while, Hua Cheng stroking Xie Lian’s back and listening to his breathing. Though Xie Lian didn’t say anything more, he had the nagging feeling that his beautiful god was still thinking about his brief time as the White-Clothed Calamity. He didn’t want that. The last day had been a difficult one for them both, and he needed something to distract Xie Lian from the scars of his past.

“Gege,” he whispered into Xie Lian’s ear. “Why don’t we go out?”

Chapter Text

Ghost City was even bigger and more chaotic than Feng Xin had expected. Its wide, sprawling streets were lit by red lanterns that cast an eerie glow over everything below them, without any of the warmth of the sun or cool beauty of the moon. The gloomy buildings were scrawled with graffiti — mostly declarations that someone the scrawler disliked was an asshole or a whore. Stalls and kiosks sprang out of the ground seemingly at random, like mushrooms after a rain.

And ghosts swarmed the streets — ghosts of every shape, size, color and description. Tiny phosphorescent ghost fires floated over their heads; creatures with the heads of animals; ghastly-faced ghosts clad in funeral rags; giggling children with extra eyes or teeth the color of iron; ghosts whose clothes still dripped with the water that had drowned them; ghosts that crept across the ground or slithered up the side of the buildings.

Feng Xin immediately wanted to go home. Or rather, he wanted to go back to his temporary palace, since his own home had been knocked down. Dammit.

He glanced back at Mu Qing, who was trying to avoid a vendor who was selling dried human ears. “Any idea where we should start looking?” he said.

“Why would I?” Mu Qing said irritably. “I’ve never been here before.”

“I haven’t either,” Feng Xin said darkly. “Maybe we should have asked Pei Ming. He’s probably been down here to bed a few hundred ghosts in this place.”

“I suppose we should find out if Hua Cheng has a home.”

“How do you suggest we find out?”

Mu Qing looked like he was grinding his teeth. Feng Xin couldn’t think of any ways either — there wasn’t any non-suspicious way for them to ask where the Chengzhu of Ghost City lived and how to get to his house. If they did ask, word would probably fly to Hua Cheng, and he would know they were coming long before they actually arrived.

They waded through the crowds, dodging offers of evil-looking jewelry, cursed charms that reeked of demonic qi, pickled yao beast eyeballs and bowls of chicken soup whose production immediately killed Feng Xin’s appetite. In fact, he might never want chicken soup for as long as he lived. Strictly speaking, neither he nor Mu Qing needed to eat at all, but Feng Xin sometimes did it just for enjoyment.

It was starting to dawn on him that this entire mission had not been set up very well. Finding a single person in a whole city was a gargantuan task, especially when you didn’t have a map, an address or some way of figuring out where they might be. It was even worse when the mission was a secret, and you were undercover. Maybe they should go back to Heaven and request some more intel before—

Then Feng Xin’s mind went blank as a small, cold hand landed on his arm. “Well, hello, handsome,” a woman’s voice purred. “Are you lonely?”
Icy fear speared through Feng Xin, and every muscle in his body seemed to seize up — he couldn’t move, as if he had transformed into a statue —

The woman’s fingers flickered up his bicep, and tickled the front of his shoulder as she stepped in front of him. “Shy?” she said with a wide smile. Her deathly-pallid cheeks were rouged to make them look at least a little like those of a living woman. Her cheap silk dress exposed enough of her breasts to make Feng Xin feel like screaming.

As if she had called out to them, more prostitutes began gathering around, like sharks scenting blood. Feng Xin could feel terror bubbling up in his throat as they pressed close to him, filling the air with a perfume that smelled like dead flowers, their hands clutching at his clothes. Their voices rose around him like gusts of wind screeching over rooftops.

“Don’t look at her — she died from a sexually transmitted disease—“

“Liar! She’s jealous because she just lies there like a dead fish—“

“Don’t you want someone young and pretty, gege?”

“Look at your clothes! Someone as important and high class as you must want—“

Suddenly a strong hand grasped the back of Feng Xin’s robes, almost hoisting him off his feet. It was surprising enough that for a split second, he forgot his fear. The next thing he knew he was being dragged through the crowd at a high speed, knocking aside random ghosts who squawked, screeched and swore at the sudden rudeness.

Then he stopped, and the hand let him go. “I swear, I can’t go anywhere with you,” Mu Qing said sourly.

Feng Xin straightened his rumpled robes, his breath coming in gasps. “Thanks,” he said reluctantly.

There was a reason he spent most of his time in the company of martial gods and the junior officials who worked for him — they were virtually all men. There were rumors, both among Heavenly Officials and mortals, that General Nan Yang hated all women, and avoided them in all areas of life. It irked Feng Xin, because he didn’t hate women. He was just deathly afraid of them. There was a difference.

He had been this way for almost as long as he could remember. Even as Xie Lian’s bodyguard, when he was a teenager, he had been afraid of women. There were exceptions, admittedly — the queen of Xianle had always been kind and caring towards him, and Feng Xin had loved her as a kind of mother figure. But in general, women frightened him, especially ones who were revealing a lot of their bodies.

The only one who had managed to capture his heart had been Jian Lan. She had been so brave and beautiful that his feelings had overcome his fear — she had been the one bright spot in a bleak period when it seemed like he and the royal family were slowly sinking into a cold, smothering quagmire. For a short time, he had thought he might be able to buy her freedom from that brothel, and then… well, he hadn’t really been able to think of what they would do after that. But at least they would have been together.

It still hurt. Even after five hundred years, he sometimes thought about what could have been.

Feng Xin took a shaky breath, and tried to steady himself. “All right. We need to figure out where to go next.”

"We dont even really know where we are now,” Mu Qing pointed out.

They were on an even busier street than before, dominated by a large gambling hall swarming with ghosts — and others. Feng Xin was fairly sure that some of the people there were mortals and Heavenly Officials. He didn’t want to think about what kind of gambling went on in that place, because there was no way that a place like this would only allow the gambling of money. If they gambled actual money at all, which he doubted.

As if on cue, a man was dragged out of the gambling hall by two burly ghosts, the side of his robes stained with crimson. His right arm was gone — completely gone, as if someone with a sword had simply hacked it off at the shoulder.

Feng Xin wasn’t sure whether to be sorry for the man or not, because while he had obviously bet his right arm and lost… they didn’t know what the bet had been. If a person came to Ghost City to gamble, they were either completely desperate… or they wanted something dark and evil that they couldn’t get from anywhere else. Curses, or luck, or even someone’s death — they could all be obtained here, if you were willing to bet something important and lucky enough to win.

Suddenly bells rang out, loud enough to make Feng Xin look around in alarm. The ghosts swarming around them suddenly scattered like leaves swept away by a flood. Feng Xin and Mu Qing quickly glanced at one another, and then retreated to a narrow, darkened alley next to the gambling hall. In the shadows, they could observe whatever came next.

“Chengzhu! Chengzhu is coming!”

Feng Xin’s eyes widened as a step-litter appeared, carried by four skeletons that walked and spoke under their own power. The litter was one of the most ornate, expensive-looking vehicles that Feng Xin had ever seen — he hadn’t seen such a thing even in Heaven — and as it came to a halt, he could see two shapes dimly silhouettes behind its gauzy curtains. His heart began to race like a runaway horse.

The curtains parted, and Hua Cheng stepped out.

It had been a long time since Feng Xin had seen Crimson Rain Sought Flower — probably not since he had issued his challenges — and he had almost forgotten how ridiculously tall the ghost king was. In any other circumstances, Feng Xin would have probably thought that he was at least as good-looking as Pei Ming — but that face easily could shift into a malicious smirk, and his one visible eye was as piercing as a dagger. The other was hidden behind an eyepatch. Feng Xin had heard rumors about it — some said that his eye was cursed, others that he had ripped it out of his own head.

Hua Cheng stood in the street for a moment, slowly looking around with that single ink-black eye. Feng Xin felt his insides freeze, and his first panicked thought was that he would see the two Heavenly Officials lurking nearby.

But instead, he turned back to the step litter, and parted the curtains with one hand. A slender hand reached out to grasp his, and another person stepped out to join the ghost king.

It was Xie Lian.

Chapter Text

The newly-reascended god was fully dressed now, in snow-white robes embroidered with flying birds. Maybe it was Feng Xin’s imagination, but he thought that they looked a lot like the robes he had worn in his youth in Xianle — less ornate, since they weren’t trimmed with gold, but no less opulent-looking. His hair was now smooth and drawn back and up, but given the beauty of his robe, Feng Xin was a little surprised that it was only held in place by a white ribbon.

But the thing that froze Feng Xin’s blood was the bandages and bruises. Most of Xie Lian’s body was covered by his white robes, but a bandage had been placed on his cheek, and dark bruises bloomed on his hands and throat like ugly flowers.

“Did that bastard… hit him?” he whispered.

Mu Qing didn’t say a word, but his eyes were wide and unblinking. For a moment, Feng Xin’s imagination went wild, as he imagined the ghost king unleashing his rage on Xie Lian — who had always been strong, but with a cursed shackle and no worshipers, he had little power.

As Xie Lian stepped out, Hua Cheng kept a grip on his hand, and stretched his arm around the god, as if worried that he would trip. Feng Xin couldn’t see Hua Cheng’s face from this angle, but he could see Xie Lian’s — and much to his shock, the prince’s face broke into a radiant smile aimed directly at the crimson-clad ghost.

Feng Xin had never seen a smile like that on Xie Lian’s face — not even when he was a pampered young prince with the world at his feet. Not even when he was a god the first time.

“What’s wrong with him?” Mu Qing muttered.

That was what Feng Xin wanted to know. He looked happier than the two of them had ever seen him before — he wouldn’t look like that if he had simply let Hua Cheng use him, out of desperation. He looked like… someone in love.

This was what they had infiltrated Ghost City to uncover — to learn whether Xie Lian was being mistreated, and how deeply he was connected to Hua Cheng. The latter had been fairly obvious from the beginning, since he had essentially said that Heaven was a lesser priority if his lover was upset — and Hua Cheng had immediately proven that yes, he was upset. That just left the question of what Hua Cheng was doing, what he was planning, and how he was treating Xie Lian.

Feeling oddly nervous, he quickly glanced at Mu Qing. The other god was staring — but at Hua Cheng, not at Xie Lian.

“What?” Feng Xin whispered.

“What do you mean, ‘what?’” Mu Qing retorted.

“What are you staring at?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t lie. I can see you gawping at Hua Cheng.”

Mu Qing’s eyes glinted in the shadows. “It’s the coral pearl.”

“What?”

“In his hair,” Mu Qing said darkly. “He’s got a coral pearl at the end of a braid.”

Feng Xin frowned. “So what? Heaven has thousands of coral pearls. Maybe millions. It isn’t weird that a ghost king as rich as Hua Cheng would have one.”

“Not like that one. I recognize it.”

“From where?”

“The Shangyuan Festival.”

"You're going to have to narrow it down a little,” Feng Xin said. “We’ve been around for more than five hundred of them.”

Mu Qing grimaced. “The one when his highness was the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior for our performance! When he was seventeen! He was wearing a pair of red coral pearl earrings, and one of them went missing in all the confusion. I looked for months, but never found it. You should remember — you accused me of stealing it!”

"I never accused you of anything!” Feng Xin hissed. “You were just oversensitive! I always thought it probably fell out of his ear while he was rescuing that kid, and some random person picked it up and sold it.”

He glanced around the corner. Hua Cheng and Xie Lian were walking together towards the gambling hall — and he couldn’t help but notice Hua Cheng’s arm linked through Xie Lian’s, with the fingers of his other hand lightly entwined with Xie Lian’s. He couldn’t see their faces well from there, but he could see Hua Cheng lean over to whisper something in Xie Lian’s ear.

“So you’re saying he has that coral pearl?” Feng Xin said at last.

“Didn’t I just say that?”

Feng Xin frowned. “What are the chances that he would just happen to have that particular coral pearl… and also the man who wore it five hundred years ago?”

“Smaller than Quan Yizhen’s brain,” Mu Qing said grimly.

The two gods slipped out of the shadows into the street, watching as the last flashes of crimson and white as Xie Lian and Hua Cheng entered the Gambler’s Den. Feng Xin chewed on his lip as he stared after them, and wondered how they could get close enough to hear or see how Hua Cheng was treating Xie Lian. Then again, he wouldn’t have any reason to hide it, would he? He could do whatever he wanted in this city.

Mu Qing’s lip curled slightly. “Do you have some kind of plan to get close to them, or were you planning to just barge in and ask his highness if Hua Cheng is treating him badly?”

“Do you have a plan?” Feng Xin shot back.

Neither one of them had a plan, so they grimly marched into the Gambler’s Den, trying to look as if they were there for their own reasons for being there. The place was vast, and full to overflowing with people — ghosts and mortals alike, eyes glittering with greed and fear as they gambled. Weaving around the tables were servants wearing masks, which seemed to be the uniform way to identify one of Hua Cheng’s servants in this place.

“Welcome to Gambler’s Den,” a silky voice said.

A young man had sidled up to them, his face hidden behind a mask. He sounded as if he were smiling, but not with any sincerity.

“Uh, hi,” Feng Xin said warily.

“I don’t recall seeing you before,” the masked man said. “Is this your first time in Ghost City?”

“No,” said Feng Xin.

“Yes,” said Mu Qing at the same time.

They glared at one another. Despite the truce he had suggested, Feng Xin really wanted to punch Mu Qing in this moment.

The servant chuckled. “No need to be embarrassed. We have many outside visitors who find themselves here, and I’m sure we can find something that will suit your… desires.”

Feng Xin groaned inwardly. He had no desire to gamble — and even less desire to gamble at a place where people could get their arms cut off. He might be using a clone body, but he still didn’t like the idea. He had been hoping to just blend into the crowd and drift around without anyone noticing, but Hua Cheng’s servants were apparently too observant for that to happen.

As he groped around for an answer, Mu Qing said in a smooth, slightly sarcastic voice, “I’m so glad to hear that. Since we haven’t been here before, perhaps my friend and I could see what kind of gambling goes on here before we decide what we want to bet and how?”

The masked man said nothing for a moment, then bowed. “As you wish. If you have any questions…” He thankfully kept his distance as the two gods slipped away into the crowd.

Feng Xin’s eyes were on the lookout for a flash of white, in a sea of murky, flame-colored screens and lanterns. Xie Lian had always stood out in a crowd, even when he wore humble clothing and hid his face. It should have been easy to spot him in a place like this — but no one he could see was wearing white, and there was no sign of the two men who had just entered.

Then Mu Qing’s hand gripped his arm. “There they are,” he whispered.

He jerked his chin at the far end of the gambling hall. A long, wide stair led up to the upper levels of the building, and at the very top of it, Feng Xin could see rooms glowing with golden and red light. Long gauzy crimson curtains hung over the center room, with a shorter golden curtain shimmering just over them. From up there, a person could look over most — if not all — of the Gambler’s Den, like a king looking down over his subjects.

“You think he’s up there?” Feng Xin asked.

“Of course he is,” Mu Qing said impatiently. “Who else would be allowed in a place like that? It’s obviously reserved for Hua Cheng, and he had the prince glued to his side.”

Feng Xin looked up at the bright red curtains, and squinted. Now that looked more carefully, he could see shapes behind it — two throne-like chairs placed side by side, overlooking everything. His eyes, keener than those of a mortal, could see a white shape in one, and a taller red one in the other — and all around them flew motes of silver light, fluttering on deceptively dainty-looking wings.

Okay, they had located Xie Lian. Now they just had to find a way to get close to him without being observed… which was virtually impossible in this place. Anyone who approached that curtained room would be visible to the entire Gambler’s Den — and worse, Crimson Rain Sought Flower would see every step of the person approaching. Which was probably the way he had designed the entire place to be.

It looked like they would have to gather information from a distance about Xie Lian and Hua Cheng.

Chapter Text

“What can I do to make you happy, gege?” Hua Cheng murmured.

Xie Lian rested his head against his love’s shoulder, feeling Hua Cheng’s arm curl around his back to draw him closer. The ghost king had been extraordinary attentive ever since they had gotten out of bed, whether it was touching him constantly — though carefully, always mindful of his injuries — or trying to distract him from the ugliness of his past.

The truth was that Xie Lian had felt — not happier exactly, but relieved — after admitting how ashamed he was over his behavior towards Wuming. Hua Cheng didn’t seem to mind how cruelly Xie Lian had treated him in his youth, but Xie Lian had always regretted that he had never apologized to the masked ghost who had sacrificed everything for him. Now that he had, it was as if he had purged something poisonous from his body.

But he also knew that Hua Cheng wouldn’t be satisfied with that. He was clearly worried about Xie Lian’s state of mind, and wouldn’t be satisfied until he found some way of soothing or pampering his love.

“There are two things San Lang can do for me,” Xie Lian said softly.

“Name them.”

“One is… I’m a little hungry.” He might be a god again, but the cursed shackle around his throat made food a necessity.

Hua Cheng snapped his fingers, and one of the silver butterflies floated off through the curtains. Then he turned back to Xie Lian, the butterflies’ light reflecting in his eye. “And the other thing, gege?”

“I want you to kiss m—”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence when Hua Cheng’s lips were on his, his long fingers tangling in Xie Lian’s hair. He leaned closer and let himself melt into Hua Cheng’s embrace, arms wrapping around his neck and shoulders. The bustle and noise of the Gambler’s Den faded around them, until there was only their bodies pressed together, surrounded by dozens of silver butterflies.

Hua Cheng was never too rough with him — he left love bites and marks on Xie Lian’s chest and throat, and occasionally he would leave a bruise where he gripped his love too tightly. But it was never more than Xie Lian was comfortable with — and he always paid scrupulous attention to how his god felt and reacted whenever they kissed or touched, so he could do more of what Xie Lian liked, and stop whatever he didn’t.

But now, Xie Lian could feel that Hua Cheng was trying to be very gentle with him, avoiding touching his stomach or the bruises that ran up his chest. Even the greenish-brown bruises on his neck were only lightly skimmed by Hua Cheng’s fingers, as if he were afraid that Xie Lian would fall apart if touched too roughly.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian whispered. “You don’t have to be so careful.”

“Doesn’t it hurt, gege?”

“A little… not too much.” Xie Lian was used to pain, to the point where he sometimes didn’t even notice that he was hurt. There was nothing that could be done about it, so for five hundred years, he would simply bind his wounds and let them heal. After being stabbed a hundred times, suffering until his sanity had snapped, little cuts and broken bones didn’t seem so significant.

But Hua Cheng drew back for a moment, studying his face. His eye gleamed slightly, and locks of loose raven-black hair brushed forward against Xie Lian’s cheeks.

Then he rose to his feet, looming over Xie Lian, and leaned in close. Xie Lian leaned back against his chair, tilting his face up to meet Hua Cheng’s, and raised his arms to pull the ghost king to him, until Hua Cheng was practically kneeling on the edge of his seat, between Xie Lian’s legs. To anyone who dared to come in, it would look like they were doing more than kissing, but Xie Lian knew that nobody in Ghost City would dare intrude on their Chengzhu in this room.

Then he felt something — something he hadn’t felt in five hundred years. Something warm and glowing that was pouring from Hua Cheng’s lips, streaming down through his throat and filling every muscle and sinew in his body. Xie Lian shuddered a little and moaned, but Hua Cheng’s hands were holding him in his chair — and neither one of them wanted to break the kiss. Butterflies were fluttering against his skin, each one caressing him with warmth and brightness.

“What is—“ he breathed.

“A god needs spiritual energy,” Hua Cheng murmured against his cheek.

“You can’t — I can’t possibly repay you—“

The ghost king chuckled, pressing in closer. “Who said anything about doing that?” he whispered. “Everything I have — everything I am — belongs to you, gege.” His cool hand slipped over Xie Lian’s cheek, touched his slightly swollen lips. “You’ve already given me more than enough, just by being here — with me.”

Xie Lian softened, clutching at Hua Cheng’s robes. “San Lang—“

But a strange expression crossed Hua Cheng’s face, and he drew back unexpectedly. Xie Lian was bewildered, not sure why his beloved was suddenly moving away from him — until he saw that the silver scimitar hanging from his belt was vibrating violently, and E’ming’s crimson eye was darting around wildly, as if looking for something.

“Is something wrong?” Xie Lian asked.

Hua Cheng smiled thinly. “Nothing much. Just a few unwanted intruders.” He gently ran a finger down Xie Lian’s cheek. “I’ll be back shortly, gege. Just wait for me here.”

The curtains blew aside as he passed them, gliding down the stairs as gracefully as a summer wind. The butterflies stayed where they were, swooping and fluttering around Xie Lian; a few of them settled on his hands and face, as if making up for the touches that Hua Cheng wouldn’t be giving him for the next few minutes.

He sat back in his chair, enjoying their warm silken wings, and listening to the shouts and murmurs of the gamblers down below. But he found his thoughts flitting to the intruders that Hua Cheng had gone to root out. It was a little odd for the Chengzhu of Ghost City to deal with such people himself, rather than sending someone else to drag the person out of Gambler’s Den — or even the whole city.

Masked, black-clad servants eventually entered the room, carrying silver dishes filled with various foodstuffs that Xie Lian had expressed liking for in the past. They placed the dishes on a long, low table, then bowed deeply before Xie Lian, and began to slip back out.

“Thank you for bringing this!” Xie Lian said quickly.

That was when the Gambler’s Den was rocked by an explosion — and spiritual energy blazed like a fallen star below them. The curtains were shredded by the lashing sword glares, and the table was overturned, scattering the dishes across the floor.

Xie Lian’s heart almost stopped, and for a moment his entire world narrowed to the spot of crimson at the heart of a cloud of dust. “San Lang!” he shouted.

Chapter Text

Mu Qing peered around a corner, his heart racing. When he confirmed that there were no ghosts down that particular shadowy corridor, he ran with silent footsteps through it. He wasn’t entirely sure what direction he was going in, but he thought that he was getting closer to his destination.

The main gambling hall was only a small part of the Gambler’s Den, Mu Qing soon discovered. There were many rooms, doors and hallways hidden away from the gamblers, where only servants were clearly intended to go. He had knocked one of them unconscious and hidden him in order to get access to these corridors — one of them might lead up to that room where Hua Cheng and Xie Lian were.

And then… he wasn’t sure what he would do.

He couldn’t tell the prince who he really was — that was the whole reason he had used a clone body, pretending to be a junior official from his own palace. But he wasn’t sure what Xie Lian would do if he encountered a random Middle Heaven official who was trying to spy on him.

As for Hua Cheng… well, Mu Qing refused to think that he might be afraid of Hua Cheng. He was wary. Cautious. Thoughtfully and intelligently aware of the ghost king’s dangerous nature. He would have to be a blithering moron to not be wary of Hua Cheng, especially since he and Feng Xin were trespassing in his territory. And he was obviously very possessive of Xie Lian, so who knew how he would react if Heavenly Officials showed up unexpectedly?

That immediately brought Mu Qing’s thoughts back to the coral pearl. It was the same one. He was certain. He had spent an entire year searching for it, and had found nothing.

Could it be the other coral pearl from the earring that hadn’t been lost? Maybe Xie Lian had given it to Hua Cheng as a gift, if he had nothing else to give. No, Xie Lian would have pawned that earring along with every other valuable he had possessed, after the fall of Xianle. He wouldn’t have hung onto it for five hundred years. Would he?

Which only left one possibility: Hua Cheng had deliberately obtained the coral pearl because of its connection to Xie Lian. The chances were just too small that Xie Lian would just happen to end up in the hands of the man who also had a jewel he had worn once, five hundred years ago. Maybe Hua Cheng had been the one who had stolen it, back in Xianle — part of a burgeoning obsession with capturing and possessing the prince. As if he were a pet or a rare treasure.

That was alarming. It was even more alarming that Hua Cheng was a fiercely possessive, powerful ghost who wouldn’t tolerate anyone having Xie Lian for even a day.

The more Mu Qing thought about it, the more convinced he became that Hua Cheng was some kind of obsessed stalker — a dangerous, mentally sick creature that wanted to possess Xie Lian completely. Even worse, he might be dangerous to Xie Lian himself if the prince ever displeased him — or worse, tried to leave him. Xie Lian might be immortal and a god, but even a god could die if they encountered someone powerful enough, and Hua Cheng was definitely powerful enough.

During most of the time Mu Qing had known him, Xie Lian had lived a blessed existence — raised in a palace amidst luxury and plenty, loved by everyone who knew him, beautiful physically and skilled in swordplay and cultivation. But that luck had seemingly evaporated the moment he chose to fight against fate — and in five hundred years, Mu Qing had never seen anyone fall as far or as hard as he had. With that kind of bad luck, it was no wonder that he had fallen into the arms of someone with a twisted obsession with him.

Mu Qing was painfully aware that the prince still hated him after their last meeting — which wasn’t surprising, since siding with those other gods against him had been the biggest mistake of his long life. He had only ever wanted to be Xie Lian’s friend, but he knew that that was an impossibility at this point.

But… he didn’t want Xie Lian to suffer. If the prince had been so desperate that he had turned to Hua Cheng to survive… then Mu Qing wanted to find a way to help him. Even better, find a way to help him escape.

He hated that Xie Lian despised him like this — that he still looked down on him, even though he was now a martial god with thousands of temples. The prince would only ever see him as the lowly servant who had needed his protection rather than being able to stand on his own two feet. His only defense was to defend himself preemptively — to lash out before someone else could cut him down.

Then he heard voices — women’s voices, coming from ahead of him.

Swiftly, Mu Qing darted through a nearby door, and pulled it almost completely closed. There was just enough space for one eye to peer through into the hallway beyond.

“… so handsome! Especially when he’s smiling.”

“Don’t let Chengzhu know you think that. He wouldn’t like anyone flirting with his daozhang.”

“I’m not stupid. I’m not going to say or do anything — I just think he’s nice to look at, and if he weren’t with Chengzhu…”

“As if you’d have a chance with a man that pretty!”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. That was one thing about Xie Lian that hadn’t changed over the centuries — back when he was a prince, almost every girl he encountered turned into a giggling mess about him. A few of the boys too. As a servant, Mu Qing had heard plenty of people whispering to each other about the prince and how beautiful he was. Mu Qing had always thought it was kind of annoying, especially since Xie Lian had been dedicated to his cultivation and wouldn’t return the affections of any of them.

His heart clenched. How desperate must he have been to let Hua Cheng fuck him, and sacrifice everything he had worked for? He thought Xie Lian had hit rock bottom five hundred years ago, but this…

The voices and giggles faded away, and Mu Qing slunk back out of the room, closing the doors firmly behind him. He knew he had limited time before someone realized that someone had sneaked into the bowels of the Gambler’s Den, and he had to find a way to get to Xie Lian before that happened. He still wasn’t sure what to do — if he told Xie Lian what his lover was, would the prince believe what appeared to be a total stranger? Probably not… but he probably wouldn’t believe Mu Qing if he revealed who he was.

Maybe he could create a diversion to get Hua Cheng to leave, even for just a few minutes. He could blow some holes in the walls and then flee the area before anyone could investigate further — maybe he could set a fire — not a big one, but big enough to set off alarms…

But before he could start gathering his spiritual energy to do either of those things, he felt something else — a coldness seeping into the air, as if someone had left a door open in the dead of winter. His stomach dropped like a stone thrown into a pond. Something was coming this way — and whatever it was, it didn’t feel friendly.

Mu Qing’s hand drifted down to his side, to the qiankun pouch hanging from his belt. He might have been willing to go to Ghost City, but he wasn’t stupid enough to go without his spiritual weapon. His eyes darted down the corridor, where the shadows seemed to be stretching and twisting themselves across the floor, writhing like curling bands of smoke.

Mu Qing's jaw clenched.

That was when he saw the eerie light shining from the other end of the hallway. A pale, silvery light, as if the moon had been cut into dozens of little flying shards.

Mu Qing was about to turn away and flee when he felt something just behind him — and ducked just as a scimitar sliced into the wood just behind where his head had been a second before.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng’s single eye was burning like a black flame, and his face was as stark and pale as ice. A twisted smile played across his lips as he wrenched his blade loose from the wall.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you would show up,” he said in a deceptively quiet voice. “You couldn’t just leave him alone for a single day, could you?”

He had assumed that the gods would be too unnerved by his display in the Palace of Divine Might to venture into Ghost City, at least for a while. Apparently, he reflected grimly, he had been mistaken — Jun Wu had sent a spy right into the heart of his domain. Maybe this man was here to kidnap Xie Lian. Hua Cheng wouldn’t put it past Jun Wu, or any of the other gods, to abduct Xie Lian for his own supposed good.

The young man glared at Hua Cheng, as if the ghost king was the one in the wrong and not him. “I got lost,” he said sullenly.

“You got lost and knocked out someone on your way?” Hua Cheng said derisively.

The man’s eyes widened slightly.

“Don’t pretend to be anything but what you are,” Hua Cheng said, pointing E’ming at the intruder’s face. The scimitar shimmered like a shard of silver ice in Hua Cheng’s hands, and a blood-red eye in the hilt glared balefully at the god, as if the blade itself hated him as much as its owner did. “I know why you’re here.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” the intruder sneered.

Hua Cheng’s eye glittered. Something about the man’s tone was unsettlingly familiar, even though his face was one that Hua Cheng had never seen before. He was dressed like a Middle Heaven junior official, in unadorned black robes, with his dark hair drawn back into a simple ponytail — probably just some kid from a powerful martial god’s palace who worked on minor missions and errands. Nobody important.

But his defiant posture and the insolent tone of his voice... they weren’t what he would expect from a junior official facing a Supreme ghost king pointing a deadly blade at his face. He acted as if Hua Cheng were his equal, or at the very least someone he didn’t have a reason to fear. Maybe he was arrogant enough — delusional enough — to think that no one in Heaven had a reason to fear a mere ghost. If so, Hua Cheng would be happy to educate him.

“His highness is not your slave,” the other man said tightly. “If you’re keeping him from talking to Heavenly Officials—“

“If you had simply walked up and said you wanted to talk to him,” Hua Cheng retorted, “there wouldn’t have been a problem. But you assaulted one of my servants and slithered around in places where you aren’t allowed, just to get close to him. Why should I let an intruder like you get anywhere near him?”

The junior official’s face twisted. “That’s not the real reason, and you know it. You just don’t want anyone from Heaven to get close to him.”

Hua Cheng couldn’t deny that he didn’t want Heaven to bother Xie Lian, especially after the gods had tried to keep them apart before. But he also would never try to curtail Xie Lian’s freedom. His god’s will was paramount, and if he wanted to talk to Heavenly Officials that came to Ghost City, Hua Cheng would not interfere. He’d simply make sure that his beloved knew what idiots they were. But if those officials acted the way this junior official had, Hua Cheng had no reason to hold back.

“It’s not like he knows what you really are, or why you’re with him,” the junior official said.

Hua Cheng’s lips twisted. “And what would an insignificant little fool like you know about me?”

The man's eyes glittered with malice. “I know that you’re sick. Twisted. You’re obsessed with him — that’s why you don’t leave him alone whenever someone else is around. He probably thinks that that’s what love is, but he has no idea that you’ll never let him out of your grasp, no matter what he does. You might as well stuff him in a cage so he can’t escape — but you’ll probably do worse when he realizes the truth and tries to get away from you.”

Hua Cheng stood rooted in place, his hand gripping E'ming tightly enough that his fingers couldn't tremble. An icy fear was blossoming inside him at the little god’s words — something nameless and unacknowledged, something he hadn’t been able to express to Xie Lian even in their most loving moments. It was a fear that his beloved would come to see his love as frightening, as all-consuming, as something unhealthy and entrapping. And that he would leave.

The junior official made a dismisive gesture. “No wonder you don't want Heaven to get close to him — you’re afraid that we’ll see what you’ve been doing to him, and get him to leave!”

“What I did?” Hua Cheng said menacingly. “And what was that?”

“You think nobody can see the bruises you left on him? He might be willing to put up with beatings from you, but—“

The blistering, white-hot rage erupted from Hua Cheng so quickly that he didn’t have time to think about what he was doing. He flew towards the junior official like a bird of prey descending on its victim, his black eye blazing red. His hand locked around the junior official’s throat and slammed him back against the wall, hard enough to crack the dark, thick wood.

“What did you say?” he said in a low, quiet voice.

The junior official choked, but still glared down at him balefully.

Hua Cheng had been haunted for five hundred years by the memory of seeing Xie Lian tortured to death on the altar of his own ruined temple. And six months before, he had witnessed his god bleeding and writhing in agony as Hua Cheng pulled a spike from his torn heart. The only wounds he ever had left on Xie Lian’s body were gentle love bites, and those were only because he had gotten confirmation from Xie Lian that he enjoyed them.

The idea that he would deliberately hurt his god was more than disgusting — it was obscene. He would unflinchingly cut off his own hand rather than raise it against Xie Lian. And this… this ignorant little shit dared to say that Hua Cheng had beaten him.

The junior official bared his teeth, and kicked at Hua Cheng’s stomach. Hua Cheng grunted faintly as the boot struck his abdomen, hard enough to make hot pain blossom in his muscles, but his strong fingers didn’t even loosen their grip.

“What did you say?” he repeated mockingly.

He saw the glint of metal only a second before it would have slashed through his forearm — and as he let go, he felt the blade slice through the sleeve of his robe. The junior official had pulled a saber from seemingly nowhere — Hua Cheng hadn’t seen it a moment before, or he would have ripped it from his belt — and was now in a fighting stance that Hua Cheng had seen before. It was one that had been used long ago, in Xianle, by those who used the saber.

Hua Cheng had been suspicious before, but he was almost certain now. He took a step back towards the junior official, E’ming glinting in his hand, a knife-sharp smile on his lips.

“So it’s you,” he whispered. “You have a lot of nerve, coming here… to take him.”

The junior official flung out his hand, and a ball of white energy whirled between his fingers and his palm. Hua Cheng held out his free hand, ready to disperse the spiritual energy as soon as it was fired at him — he knew he was strong enough to easily take Mu Qing in a battle, especially when the martial god was hiding behind a clone body. It was time to pay back every insult, every wrong, every minute since that treacherous filth had abandoned Xie Lian and then humiliated him.

But instead, his enemy threw the spiritual energy blast at the wall behind himself — and the wall blew out with an explosive crash. A cloud of dust and smoke blasted Hua Cheng in the face, but he leaped forward through the gaping hole in the wall, even though he couldn’t see where he was. Voices were screaming and shouting with surprise and fear on every side of him — some afraid of the explosion, and some terrified of the sight of their Chengzhu walking through with his scimitar in hand.

But two voices rose above the hubbub, loud enough to cut through the noise. One was a voice that sounded all too familiar, howling, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO? Now he’s on the fucking warpath!”

The other cried a single name. “San Lang!”

Chapter Text

Despite himself, Hua Cheng halted when he heard Xie Lian cry out his name. There was such fear and anguish in that voice, his first impulse was to race up the steps and fold his beautiful god into his arms, whisper in his ear that everything was all right. Even tearing Mu Qing apart wasn’t as important as reassuring his beloved.

Then something white and shimmering cut through the dust cloud, whirling through the air like a gust of storm wind. Hua Cheng threw up his arm to shield his face. It took him a moment to realize that it was Ruoye, that white silk bandage that Xie Lian always kept wrapped around his wrist — and in the last six months, Hua Cheng had seen that his god could be very creative with it. He could scale walls, form barriers, throttle enemies with only a word.

As the air cleared, he saw the ruined gaming tables lying in pieces around him, and ghosts and mortals scuttling desperately out of the way. The only two exceptions were a pair of black-clad figures standing alongside each other in the middle of the room. One was Mu Qing, and the other was another unfamiliar face — but from the way he spoke, Hua Cheng was fairly certain of his true identity.

“You fucking idiot!” Feng Xin spluttered. “I told you to stay close!”

“Shut up!” Mu Qing grunted, rubbing his throat.

E’ming practically vibrated in Hua Cheng’s grasp, and all he could see was two men who had betrayed Xie Lian — abandoned him when he needed them most. He wanted to slice them to ribbons for that alone — he wanted to make them bleed, suffer, regret ever setting foot in Ghost City — and if they thought he would let them anywhere near Xie Lian after this —

But then a figure clad all in flowing white robes swept down the stairs, and hands pressed themselves to Hua Cheng’s cheeks, turning his face. Eyes like golden-brown stars shone through the dusty air.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian whispered. “It’s all right — look at me —“

Hua Cheng obeyed, and all he could see was Xie Lian’s beautiful face, full of concern and worry… for him. His god was looking at him and no one else, his hands were touching him, and his slender body was pressed against Hua Cheng’s. The ghost king could feel his anger trickling away slowly but steadily, as if he couldn’t bring himself to be enraged when Xie Lian looked at him like that.

The arm holding E’ming fell to his side, and the other wrapped tightly around Xie Lian’s waist. He clasped his god to his chest as tightly as he dared without hurting him, and pressed his face against Xie Lian’s shoulder, which smelled of jasmine and clean skin. Strong, slender arms wrapped around him, and fingers glided through his hair.

For a moment, the Gambler’s Den was silent as a tomb. Then raucous voices rose from every side like the squawking of excited crows.

“That’s our Chengzhu! Nobody can stand against him!”

“… and his Xie-daozhang, of course! What an elegant solution!”

“Did you see them run? Cowards!”

“Chengzhu! Chengzhu! Should we hunt them down and drag them back?”

Xie Lian clutched Hua Cheng closer, almost afraid that the ghost king would tear himself away and go after the two black-clad gods. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but the two Heavenly Officials were gone without a trace — as if they had evaporated into thin air. They were probably back in Heaven by now, or at least halfway across Ghost City.

He had never seen Hua Cheng that angry before. For a few brief seconds, he had seen exactly what the Heavens feared about Crimson Rain Sought Flower, and what those thirty-three gods had seen before their fateful defeats. And yet, he hadn’t felt even a flicker of fear for himself — only worry that Hua Cheng would do something he might regret later.

“Let them run,” Hua Cheng said hoarsely. “They won’t be back if they know what’s good for them.” He looked down at Xie Lian’s face, only a whisper away from his.“Gege, let’s find somewhere else to spend the evening.”

Xie Lian stroked the side of his face, and nodded. “I think that might be a good idea.”

He kept Hua Cheng’s hand tightly clasped in his own as they got into the step-litter, which had been designed — deliberately, Xie Lian suspected — to seat only two people, sitting very close together. When he and Hua Cheng sat together, the sides of their thighs pressed together and Xie Lian almost swayed into Hua Cheng’s lap whenever they turned a corner. This, pleasingly, forced Hua Cheng to keep a steadying arm around Xie Lian, so that their bodies comfortably fitted together in a casual embrace.

“I hope that didn’t upset you, gege,” Hua Cheng said, resting his cheek against Xie Lian’s temple.

“I was only worried because you were upset,” Xie Lian murmured. "And, well, the time when the wall exploded and I saw you were down there…”

“Did I make you worry?”

“Yes…”

Hua Cheng’s lips gently pressed between Xie Lian’s eyes.”I beg your forgiveness, gege. But you don’t have any reason to worry about me. Trash like that won’t be able to hurt me.”

Xie Lian didn’t feel reassured — Hua Cheng was ridiculously strong and powerful, but he knew from experience that even the most powerful had their limits. “San Lang… tell me what happened.”

Hua Cheng looked a little dismayed. Reluctantly, his lover gave a brief description of what had happened — one of those Heavenly Officials had knocked out a servant and trespassed into areas where visitors were not permitted to go. When he had confronted the man, guessing that he was trying to get to Xie Lian, the Middle Heaven official had lashed out verbally, and Hua Cheng had pinned him against the wall. Things had escalated, a wall had been blown out, and the official had fled with another man who had come there with him.

Xie Lian rested his head on Hua Cheng’s shoulder, a perturbed expression on his elegant features. He had the feeling that Hua Cheng was keeping something from him — his love’s body was tense against Xie Lian's, and when he mentioned the Middle Heaven official insulting him, he stayed strangely vague about what the man had actually said. After that, he was quiet, but his fingers dug into the flesh of Xie Lian’s arm.

“San Lang?” Xie Lian whispered. “What's wrong?”

Hua Cheng's head leaned down closer to his, his raven-colored hair shading his face. “Gege… you know that I would never keep you if you didn’t want to be here,” he said quietly. “If you wanted to go… if you…” His fingers brushed Xie Lian’s jaw, tilted his chin upwards. “I would never try to force you to stay with me. Even though it would…” His voice trailed off, and those fingers on Xie Lian's face trembled, even as they clung to his skin, as if Hua Cheng was desperate to keep touching him.

Xie Lian smiled softly, and raised a hand to twine his fingers with Hua Cheng’s. “I know that, San Lang,” he said softly.

He knew that Hua Cheng’s feelings were more intense than those of most other people. The ghost had been terrified to reveal his love to Xie Lian at first — he had pretended to just be a random traveler who knew nothing of Xie Lian and had never met him before. It was only after Xie Lian had uncovered his Cave of Ten Thousand Gods that he finally admitted that he had loved him fiercely and obsessively for five hundred years — and he had been terrified that his feelings would frighten away his beloved god. Some of that fear still lingered in his obsidian eye now.

Xie Lian knew he was the only one who saw Hua Cheng like this. Only when they were alone did he allow himself to show his vulnerabilities, his weaknesses — and even then, Xie Lian knew he wanted his god to see him as strong and impressive, able to protect him. It made Xie Lian both want to be protected by him, and to protect Hua Cheng’s vulnerabilities in turn.

“San Lang, whatever he said… don’t let it bother you,” he whispered. “He doesn’t know how you treat me, how you’ve always been with me. I’m here because I want to stay with you — because with you, I feel freer and happier than I have in all my life. It’s all because of you.”

Xie Lian twined his arms around Hua Cheng’s neck, drawing his beloved down into his arms and capturing his lips. He usually let Hua Cheng take the lead when they embraced, especially since the ghost king seemed more knowledgeable about such things than Xie Lian was. But he knew that Hua Cheng needed Xie Lian to be the one to show his love, his passion, how happy he was when they were together.

They only stopped kissing when the step-litter unexpectedly stopped, making them sway in their seats. Hua Cheng gazed down at him with his black eye, as clear and shining as river water, and the smile on his lips made Xie Lian’s heart swell.

“Gege,” he said softly.

Xie Lian smiled. “Let’s have dinner, San Lang.”

But something else was lurking in Xie Lian’s mind as they disembarked. He hadn’t wanted to mention it, because he knew that Hua Cheng wasn’t in a mood to receive such news right now. But the moment he had heard one of those Heavenly Officials swearing, and the other responding with a terse “shut up!”, Xie Lian had known who it was.

They were Feng Xin and Mu Qing.

Chapter Text

The food at the Gambler’s Den had been destroyed in the explosion, which had left Xie Lian without a dinner. Despite Hua Cheng being deeply upset by whatever the intruder had said to him, he hadn’t forgotten that Xie Lian was hungry.

The step-litter stopped outside an opulent restaurant that they had visited multiple times in the past — not just for the food, but for the thick screens and private rooms that would allow them to dine without crowds gawping at them. Hua Cheng was especially keen on this, because Xie Lian became embarrassed and hid his face if they kissed too passionately while anyone else was watching.

It didn’t hurt that the waiters were silent as shadows. Xie Lian wasn’t even aware that they had come into the room until Hua Cheng stopped kissing him, and he saw that a spread of dishes had been placed on the table in front of them, without either of them noticing.

“Gege,” Hua Cheng said as they settled onto their cushions.

Xie Lian was straightening his robe, which Hua Cheng’s strong hands had pulled partly open. “Yes, San Lang?”

“There’s something I want to give you.”

Xie Lian gazed up at Hua Cheng, and felt the ghost king’s hand caressing his cheek. “You don’t need to give me anything, San Lang…”

“I do,” Hua Cheng said solemnly. “I want you to have the pass phrase to my private array. You’re a god now, and can communicate through arrays if you have enough spiritual energy. If anything happens — if we’re ever separated, and you need me — I want you to be able to tell me immediately…” His fingers grazed Xie Lian’s cheekbone, drew him close enough that his lips brushed the prince’s. “… so I can come to you.”

Xie Lian closed his eyes and tilted his head away from Hua Cheng. Light kisses were pressed along the side of his face, trailing towards his ear. Then that deep voice whispered a phrase, so softly that no one else could have heard it, even if there was someone else in the room.

And Xie Lian’s eyes snapped open.

“Your pass phrase… is… THAT?” he whispered.

Hua Cheng smiled wickedly.

“You want me to say THAT?”

“You don’t have to say it. You just have to think it.”

Xie Lian could feel a blush flooding through his face at just the idea of thinking… that… whenever he wanted to speak to Hua Cheng. It made him blush even more that Hua Cheng was watching his face with obvious delight — and a little flicker of hunger in his eyes that had nothing to do with the food in front of them.

“Why… did you choose that phrase?” he said faintly.

“I didn’t want anyone to use it to bother me,” Hua Cheng said frankly. “Even if they knew it, nobody would want to say it. Gege is almost the only one I want to know it.”

Xie Lian sighed. “Well, it’s… it’s only fair that I give you mine too.”

Hua Cheng rested his chin on his hand, gazing intently at Xie Lian.

“Just recite the Dao De Jing one thousand times.”

The ghost king’s eye remained unblinkingly fixed on him for a moment. A smile twitched the corners of his mouth. Then his voice suddenly echoed in Xie Lian’s head. “Your pass phrase is ‘Just recite the Dao De Jing one thousand times,’ isn’t it?”

Xie Lian smiled ruefully. “It’s not very funny, I know. I thought it was when I made the pass phrase, but other people didn’t seem to think it was, and… well, I never got around to changing it.”

Hua Cheng’s cool hand glided over Xie Lian’s, twining their fingers together. “I think it’s funny, gege,” he said warmly.

That warmth persisted on the journey home, and through their nightly rituals as they prepared for bed. Xie Lian soaked for a while in the bathing pool, allowing his sore muscles and bones to recover from their battering the previous day. He winced as he dried his wet body, and pulled his thin night-robe over his bruised skin.

Hua Cheng had only one eye, but it saw everything — including the discomfort in Xie Lian’s motions, the faint clumsiness as he tried to move without aggravating his sore ribs or bruised stomach. He rose from the sheets to cradle Xie Lian in his arms, lowering him to their bed with agonizing gentleness. He waited for the faint quaver in his god’s breath to even out, the tension in his wounded muscles to ebb away.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian murmured at last.

“Yes, gege?”

He felt Xie Lian’s cheek growing hot against his skin. “Do you want… to continue what we were doing the other night?”

Hua Cheng drew back a little, and looked into Xie Lian’s dark, liquid eyes — nervous, and yet anticipating, his fingers pressed against Hua Cheng’s sleeve. He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t want to make love to his god, because it had been something he had only dared to dream of for the past five hundred years. But he also vividly remembered the accusation that he had deliberately hurt Xie Lian, and the rage that had ignited in him at the very thought. He couldn’t bring himself to do something that would bring his love pain that could possibly be avoided.

He had waited for five hundred long years to make love to Xie Lian, to feel that beautiful body open and surrender to him, to hear his god gasp his name and cry out in ecstasy because of what Hua Cheng was doing with him. He could wait a few days more, to make sure that Xie Lian wouldn’t suffer because of cracked ribs and a bruised stomach.

“More than anything, gege,” he said softly. “But we can’t.”

“Can’t?” Xie Lian said, sounding alarmed.

Hua Cheng gently stroked his fingers down Xie Lian’s cheek, keeping his eye locked on Xie Lian’s. “Not yet. In a few days, maybe, when you’ve recovered from your injuries.”

“I’m not that fragile, San Lang,” Xie Lian said softly. “Besides, they don’t hurt that much…”

Hua Cheng drew him closer, rested his forehead against Xie Lian’s. “I don’t want gege’s first time to be painful. Not any more than it has to be. I would do anything to spare you pain, and no matter how gentle I tried to be, it would hurt you the way you are now.” He trailed his fingers down Xie Lian’s spine, feeling his god tremble under his hand. “I beg your highness to be patient with San Lang, and wait just a little longer for him to please you.”

“If… San Lang will still hold me,” Xie Lian whispered.

Hua Cheng smiled softly, and wrapped his arms around Xie Lian, gathering in the wounded god as if afraid that he would fall apart if handled too roughly. Xie Lian sighed and let himself melt against the angles and lines of the ghost king’s body. Despite the chaos of the evening, in this room he felt warm and safe and loved, and every touch of Hua Cheng’s cool skin left him craving more.

“And when we do,” Hua Cheng whispered. “I will have something else to give you, your highness.”

“What is it?” Xie Lian murmured sleepily.

Hua Cheng chuckled, and pressed a kiss to Xie Lian’s lips. “It’s a surprise, gege.”

Chapter Text

Feng Xin didn’t even realize he was swearing until a passing god gave him a shocked look. The words just seemed to stream out of him like floodwater over a riverbank, as he stormed through the gates of his temporary palace. His Middle Heaven officials bowed respectfully to him, then went about their errands as if their general weren’t muttering a steady stream of obscenities.

That mission had been a disaster. Every part of it.

The whole idea had been to infiltrate Ghost City, find out what was happening with Xie Lian, then sneak out again without Hua Cheng finding out. Well, they had managed the first two parts. They had gotten into Ghost City with only moderate trouble, and they had learned that Xie Lian was being beaten by Hua Cheng… and even worse, the prince still seemed to be in love with him despite the abuse.

But of course, Mu Qing had ruined the final part of the mission. Feng Xin had decided to investigate by pumping various ghosts for information about “Xie-daozhang” — though none of them had been very useful in that area. As far as they knew, Xie Lian had simply appeared out of thin air one day, and rumor had it that he had been badly wounded and had been taken care of by Hua Cheng personally. The ghosts seemed to be enthusiastically supportive of their Chengzhu’s relationship, even though all they knew about Xie Lian was that he was handsome and pleasant, and he made their Chengzhu very happy with his presence.

Feng Xin hadn’t realized that he needed to keep an eye on Mu Qing to make sure he didn’t wander off. He wasn’t his babysitter. By the time he realized Mu Qing was missing, he had already been gone for half an hour — and only a few seconds later, the wall had exploded and Hua Cheng had chased the martial god into the gambling hall, with his scimitar in his hand.

Now Hua Cheng would probably be able to use Mu Qing’s mistake to convince Xie Lian to be wary of Heaven and the other gods. They would have literally been better off if they had just shown up at the borders of Ghost City and yelled messages to Xie Lian. At least then, nothing they did could be spun in a negative light.

If he fucking tries to blame me for this, Feng Xin thought furiously, I’ll rip off his head. I didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the one who went running off on his own and got us both in trouble.

“General,” a voice said from nearby.

Feng Xin spun around. “What?” he snapped.

A junior official — one who looked a lot like Feng Xin’s clone body, in fact — blinked at him in confusion. Then he quickly held out a scroll. “A message from the Palace of Divine Might. Your presence is requested by the Emperor.”

“Shit,” Feng Xin muttered.

Once he had donned appropriate robes and armor for the occasion, he set out for the Palace of Divine Might, dreading what he had to say to Jun Wu. He and Mu Qing had been the best chance of getting Xie Lian out of Hua Cheng’s clutches, but there didn’t seem to be much chance of that happening now. Especially with how deeply in love the prince seemed to be, even with someone who was hurting him.

His steps faltered for a moment, as he remembered what he had briefly seen just before he and Mu Qing had fled. Xie Lian had come flying down the steps, his dark eyes wide and wild, his white silk robe flowing around him. He had cried out a name other than Hua Cheng’s — maybe it was a pet name or something — and immediately rushed over to embrace the ghost king.

Feng Xin had expected Hua Cheng to swat him aside — after all, Xie Lian was getting in his way, and he was already in a fury. But instead Hua Cheng had stopped completely, as if Xie Lian’s voice and face had transfixed him, and he acted as if he had forgotten completely about Mu Qing. He had wrapped his free arm around Xie Lian’s waist and pulled him close, pressing his face against the prince’s shoulder. It hadn’t looked angry or aggressive — it had looked almost painfully tender and loving, as if Xie Lian was all he wanted in the world and everything else could go to hell.

Feng Xin hadn’t seen what had happened next, because he was too busy dragging Mu Qing out of the city before Hua Cheng could recover and come after them. But the memory of seeing those two embracing in the middle of the rubble and ruin still stuck in his head.

What the hell was going on with them?

And then there was the whole issue with the coral pearl. Feng Xin wasn’t entirely confident that Mu Qing was correct. As far as he was concerned, all coral pearls looked alike, but Mu Qing had been adamant that the one in Hua Cheng’s hair had been the exact one Xie Lian had worn five hundred years before.

Feng Xin was starting to get a headache. The more he found out about the prince’s relationship to Hua Cheng, the less he felt he understood. And he didn’t like that feeling.

Jun Wu was waiting for him, his elevated throne awash in shimmering light. His face was grave, and Feng Xin could see why — the one standing directly in front of him was Mu Qing. He had probably shown up early so he could convince Jun Wu that the disaster in Ghost City wasn’t really his fault, Feng Xin thought sourly.

“Ah, General Nan Yang,” Jun Wu said. “General Xuan Zhen was just recounting the events of last night. It’s very unfortunate that Hua Cheng became aware of your presence.”

Feng Xin chewed the inside of his cheek, and held his tongue. The only thing that hadn’t gone wrong, as far as Feng Xin was concerned, was the fact that Hua Cheng didn’t know that it had been the two of them who had infiltrated his territory. He might have been even angrier if he had known that the Heavenly Officials who were trying to reach Xie Lian had once known him better than anyone else.

Mu Qing’s face was grim and a little sullen, which was usually how he looked when he couldn’t avoid the fact that he had screwed up.

Jun Wu’s brows drew together. “Do either of you have any insight into why Crimson Rain Sought Flower would have such a… strong connection to the Crown Prince?”

“I’m afraid not, my lord,” Mu Qing said briskly.

Feng Xin did a double take. He hadn't told Jun Wu about the coral pearl and his suspicions about Hua Cheng? He would have thought that Mu Qing would have blurted that out almost immediately, since it was the only really maybe-useful thing that they had uncovered.

“Did you find out how he came to be there in the first place?” Jun Wu asked. “How Hua Cheng encountered him?”

“I heard some rumors,” Feng Xin said reluctantly. “Some of the ghosts said that the servants in Hua Cheng’s residence had seen him very badly wounded about six months ago, and that Hua Cheng barely let anyone come near him while he was recovering. I can’t be sure that they were telling the truth — there were a few other stories floating around that seemed a lot less likely.”

“Such as?”

“One story was that the prince had tried to exorcise a ghost, but that the ghost was Hua Cheng, and instead of killing him, Hua Cheng fell in love with him and carried him off to Ghost City,” Feng Xin said sourly. “I’m pretty sure somebody made that one up.”

Mu Qing snickered audibly.

Jun Wu didn’t look amused — if anything, he looked more displeased. “And what about the crown prince himself?” he said in a low voice. “How did he interact with Hua Cheng?”

Feng Xin opened his mouth, then closed it, and glanced over at Mu Qing.

All he could think about was that radiant smile on Xie Lian’s face as he gazed at Hua Cheng. It wasn’t just that the prince had seemed untouched by the hardships and misery of his past — it was that he had looked as if his life was full of joy and light, just because Hua Cheng was in it. He had ignored the bustling street full of ghosts and the cursed city around him, because of the person whom he loved.

It didn’t make any sense to Feng Xin — it wasn’t like Hua Cheng deserved the crown prince’s adoration. But the martial god couldn’t deny that Xie Lian was in love.

“You see…” he said slowly, “… fuck… he’s really…”

But then soft footsteps rang out through the cavernous hall, and Feng Xin felt the words catch in his throat. Somehow, he knew who was standing there even before he turned around — a tall, slender figure wrapped in a simple, elegant white robe, with a bamboo hat hanging down his back.

“Am I interrupting something?” Xie Lian asked.

Chapter Text

When Xie Lian woke the next morning, the first thing he felt was Hua Cheng’s arms wrapped around him. He drowsily nuzzled against the ghost king’s chest, and pressed a soft kiss where his collarbones met. His reward was a soft intake of breath that Hua Cheng didn’t need, a silent reminder of how much he desired the god lying in his arms.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian murmured drowsily.

“Yes, gege?” Hua Cheng’s lips grazed the top of his sleep-rumpled head, even as he drew Xie Lian closer to him.

“I need to do something today.”

“What is it?”

“I need to go to Heaven.”

He felt the long, lean body tense against his, and he quickly looked up at Hua Cheng’s face. His eye was wide, and his handsome face was strangely expressionless, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“After last night?” Hua Cheng said in a low voice.

“I promised the emperor that I would come back once things had calmed down,” Xie Lian said quietly.

He rolled onto his stomach, wincing at the pressure on his bruised belly, and looked down at Hua Cheng’s face. “Besides, they probably only came here because they were alarmed by your display in the Palace of Divine Might. If I turned up in Heaven today, they would know that you would never stop me from going where I needed to. That you aren’t interfering in my… being a god.”

Hua Cheng’s fingers slipped up through Xie Lian’s hair, stroking the side of his head. “I would never tell gege where he can or can’t go,” he said softly. “If you need to report to Heaven, then I will wait for you here until you return.”

“I won’t take long,” Xie Lian said quietly.

“Just promise me if that if anyone causes you trouble, you’ll contact me immediately.”

Xie Lian smiled softly. “Who would cause trouble for me? Nobody in Heaven likes me, but that’s not the same thing as having enemies.”

Hua Cheng’s eye shone in the low lantern-light like polished onyx. “You never know where an enemy might be lurking,” he said quietly. “Your highness doesn’t even know all the enemies he might have…”

Xie Lian blinked. “What does that mean?”

Hua Cheng gazed at him, his brows drawing together slightly. “Please, promise me, gege," he said quietly. “No matter where you are, if you need me, I’ll find a way to you.”

There was something odd about the way he didn’t answer the question, and Xie Lian found himself wondering what Hua Cheng knew that he didn’t. There were certainly people who disliked him, even despised him — his moments after his third ascension had proven that. But he doubted that any of them actually wanted to hurt him.

But Hua Cheng was looking at him with such intensity. He would never plead with any other person for anything, but with with Xie Lian he would beg if he needed to. Even if he had wanted to deny Hua Cheng this — which he didn’t — Xie Lian couldn’t have.

“I promise,” he said gently, resting his head on Hua Cheng’s chest. “If I have any trouble, I’ll contact you. Even if I have to say that pass-phrase.”

He felt the ghost king relax at having extracted that promise, and his hands returned to the familiar rhythm of stroking Xie Lian’s hair and back. It was a soothing gesture, and Xie Lian almost found himself reconsidering his plan to go to Heaven, just so he could lie in Hua Cheng’s arms a little longer. Just a little longer.

*

The first thing that Xie Lian realized as he made his way through Heaven was that people were staring at him.

In fact, almost every god whom he passed stared at him, as if they had never seen anything like him before. Under normal circumstances, Xie Lian would have assumed that it was simply that they disliked him — which he had already known — and they were displeased that he had ascended. But their faces now looked less hostile, and more… anxious. And a little disbelieving, as if they couldn’t quite understand his presence.

The only exceptions seemed to be a pair of men near the Palace of Divine Might. One was the black-clad man who had watched him so intently before. The other was a man with an elegant fan, whom Xie Lian didn’t recognize, but who looked oddly familiar. The black-clad man was staring at him with the same sullen expression. The man with the fan looked at him with unashamed curiosity, which Xie Lian found he preferred.

He sighed. There probably wasn’t a single Heavenly Official who hadn’t heard of Hua Cheng’s butterflies showing up to save him. The gods loved gossip just as much as mortals did, and Xie Lian had given them the kind of story that came up maybe once in a thousand years.

He pressed his fingers to his temple, and accessed the gods’ communications array for the first time in centuries.

For a moment, it was a dizzying whirl of conversations and unfamiliar voices, most of which seemed to be talking at the same time. Some of the conversations were about other topics — but as he drifted through, he heard voices talking about him.

“— Crown Prince, headed towards the Palace of Divine Might—“

“—don’t understand how his highness can act as if nothing’s wrong—“

“—any more of those silver butterflies?”

He sighed, and slipped back out of the array. Communicating with his fellow gods would have to wait until the talk about him subsided, and he suspected that it would take a while for that to happen.

The Palace of Divine Might was as awe-inspiringly lovely as always, and the sound of chimes and bells filled the air as Xie Lian walked along its jade paving stones. Middle Heaven officials, all as richly dressed as most Upper Heaven officials, were moving through its halls and corridors on errands of their own, but a few actually stopped to look at him, before realizing what they were doing and hurrying away.

At the far end of the grand hall — which looked even larger now that it was almost empty — Xie Lian could see Jun Wu in his resplendent robes, which looked like they had been spun from gold, silver and moonlight. Beside him was Ling Wen. On either side of him was a black-clad martial god, and Xie Lian could guess who they were before they even turned around. For one thing, one of them had a bow across his back, and there was only one god Xie Lian knew of who had a bow as his spiritual weapon.

Feng Xin was just mumbling something as Xie Lian approached.

“Am I interrupting something?” he called out.

Both Mu Qing and Feng Xin turned around. Mu Qing’s face was expressionless as a mask, while Feng Xin — who had never been good at hiding his emotions — looked like a trapped animal.

But Jun Wu simply smiled. “You have excellent timing, Xianle. We were just discussing you.”

Chapter Text

Despite the casualness of Jun Wu’s tone, Xie Lian knew that he must be listening to Mu Qing and Feng Xin talk about their experiences in Ghost City the previous night. Both of them had been in clone bodies, from what little he had seen of them, but he would recognize Feng Xin’s explosive shouts and Mu Qing’s icy retorts anywhere.

He could only assume that Jun Wu had sent them both to Ghost City, probably to find out more about Hua Cheng. He still wasn’t entirely sure what they had done there — or what Mu Qing had said to send Hua Cheng into a rampage — but after Hua Cheng had practically challenged Jun Wu in front of all of Heaven, it wasn’t surprising that some inquiries would be made. Xie Lian was just relieved that it hadn’t turned into all-out war.

As he approached, a strange expression crossed Jun Wu’s face, and the affable smile on his lips stiffened and faded. Xie Lian wasn’t sure what was wrong, and his steps slowed as he approached.

“You appear to be hurt, Xianle,” Jun Wu said slowly.

Xie Lian’s hand went up to the bandage on his cheek, and then to the bruises and cuts that littered his neck, hands and upper chest. “It’s nothing,” he said, smiling. “Just a silly accident.”

All three gods just stared at him wordlessly. Xie Lian couldn’t really understand it — even gods could be injured, so he wasn’t sure why some bruises or scrapes would disturb them so much. Considering he had tripped, fallen back to the mortal realm and crashed into a tree, he thought he had gotten off fairly lightly, as injuries went.

“Xianle,” Jun Wu said at last, “has… someone… hurt you?”

Xie Lian frowned. “No, of course not. It was just an accident.”

“Are you sure?” Mu Qing said coolly. “When you were last here, you looked perfectly well. Then Hua Cheng got angry, he insisted you return to him, and now you’re covered in some very unpleasant-looking bruises.”

It took a moment for Xie Lian to realize what the other martial god was implying. His eyes widened in shock, and he quickly held up his hands. “No! No! It’s not like that at all! San Lang — Hua Cheng would never hit me! Ever! He’s always been very gentle and careful —“

But as the other gods continued to silently gaze at him, he realized with a sinking feeling that none of them actually believed him. Maybe it was that they thought the worst of Hua Cheng automatically, or maybe they simply thought he was too in love to leave someone who would hurt him. Perhaps it was both.

At least now he knew why Hua Cheng had erupted into a blind rage the night before, and why he had been so adamant about not making love. He loved Xie Lian so deeply, with such passionate intensity, that to suggest that he would hurt his love — his god — would probably be the greatest insult that he could imagine. What was more, Xie Lian knew that seeing him in pain disturbed Hua Cheng more deeply than anything else in the world — so probably just the idea of beating Xie Lian would upset him.

“I got these injuries when I went back to the Mortal Realm, and hit a tree,” he explained sternly. “Hua Cheng found me, and made sure I was comfortable all of yesterday. He didn’t hurt me.”

Feng Xin and Mu Qing glanced at one another, and for a moment Xie Lian thought they were going to huddle together and whisper. Jun Wu looked sympathetic, though Xie Lian wasn't sure if it was because he had gotten injured, or whether the Emperor felt sorry for someone who seemingly was being abused.

“As you say, Xianle,” Jun Wu said at last. “I’m somewhat surprised you came here, considering you were injured.”

“Well, I’m here for two reasons. One was that I did promise before that I would return shortly.”

“Yes, you did.” Jun Wu nodded gravely.

“And the other is… because of an incident last night in Ghost City.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Xie Lian could see Feng Xin freeze like a deer spotting a hunter. Mu Qing’s face had simply become expressionless, and he crossed his arms across his chest.

“What incident?” Jun Wu asked.

Xie Lian sighed. He was absolutely certain that Jun Wu knew exactly what he was talking about, but evidently he was allowing Mu Qing and Feng Xin some deniability. So Xie Lian would do the same, and let his former friends pretend that they hadn’t been the ones to cause trouble the night before. He didn't want to embarrass them if he could possibly help it.

“Two junior officials came into Gambler’s Den, and one of them trespassed into an area he was not allowed in. Hua Cheng was very upset by something he did, although I’m not completely sure what he did. I know that some Heavenly Officials do come to Ghost City, but I’m not sure if they came with another motive.”

“We were just discussing that,” Mu Qing said abruptly. “They were our junior officials.”

“They were?” Xie Lian asked.

Feng Xin swallowed convulsively. “Yes, they were. One from my palace, and one from Xuan Zhen’s,” he said quickly.

“Why?” Xie Lian asked.

“It was at my request,” Jun Wu said, clasping his hands. “I was concerned about your well-being, Xianle, considering the circumstances of your departure. Please understand, I never intended for them to do more than to ask a few questions, observe and report back — and I certainly never intended for them to clash with Crimson Rain Sought Flower.”

“My junior official didn’t do anything to cause trouble,” Feng Xin said through gritted teeth. “He didn't do anything besides ask questions. It was all HIS junior official’s fault.”

He pointed at Mu Qing. Mu Qing scowled at him, but didn’t say a word.

Xie Lian didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Some things never changed, and one of those things was that Feng Xin and Mu Qing did not get along. And the fact that Jun Wu had ordered them to go made him feel uneasy — why didn’t Jun Wu send someone to approach him rather than covertly sending his former friends to spy on him? He had always thought that the Emperor had come to trust his judgment after his second ascension and banishment.

“Is it possible that I could speak to those junior officials?” he asked politely.

“They’re being penalized,” Mu Qing said shortly. “Both of them are in our respective prisons, and they’re not allowed out.”

“I see,” Xie Lian said with a sigh. “Would you convey a message to them?”

They looked at each other once again.

“I suppose,” Mu Qing said sharply. “If it’s necessary.”

Xie Lian smiled slightly. “I wanted to tell them that I’m very sorry that Hua Cheng frightened them so badly last night. However, it would probably be for the best if they avoided Ghost City for a while — and even if they do return, it would be better if they stayed far away from Hua Cheng.”

Chapter Text

Jun Wu watched Xie Lian with a strange expression, as if he were studying Xie Lian from across a great distance. But his eyes warmed again as he smiled at the crown prince, and he said quietly, “The expedition was an error, Xianle. I think none of us have any interest in antagonizing Crimson Rain Sought Flower — although he would be wise not to underestimate Heaven. Even the most powerful ghost is not invincible.”

Xie Lian’s fingers clutched at his robes. “He only wants to make sure that I’m safe, and not being prevented from going where I want. He doesn’t care about Heaven otherwise,” he said firmly.

Feng Xin muttered something indiscernible.

Jun Wu tilted his head. “I hadn’t known that anyone was capable of capturing Crimson Rain Sought Flower’s affections, Xianle,” he said. “But you always were an exceptional person.”

Xie Lian bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, my lord,” he said quietly. “I’m hoping to focus more on my status as a god, rather than difficulties with Heavenly Officials. I’ve ascended three times now, but I only have one temple to my name, and… very limited worshipers.”

“After five hundred years of banishment, I’m surprised you have any,” Mu Qing said tartly.

Xie Lian felt a pang at Mu Qing’s naked dislike of him. Mu Qing had always been moody and had a sharp tongue, but this seemed to have intensified since Xie Lian had seen him last. He searched through his memories of his last meeting with Mu Qing, five hundred years ago. He had raged at him then, angry and humiliated — was that why Mu Qing disliked him now?

“I do have one,” he said quietly. “Only one, but he’s very faithful. He’s the one who built my temple.”

Xie Lian was fairly sure that they knew that his one worshiper was Hua Cheng, but then again, they also thought that Hua Cheng was beating him, and that Xie Lian was so besotted that he wouldn’t leave someone who was harming him. He wasn’t sure how to convince them that Hua Cheng would never even dream of hurting him — that he cherished Xie Lian like no one else in the world.

“I know none of you believe me,” he added quietly, “but he really is my most devoted believer. More so than anyone else who ever worshiped me. Nothing can shake his faith.”

Silence fell over the hall. It sounded almost eerie, like a tomb.

“So I understand,” Jun Wu said at last.

Mu Qing gave him an odd, narrow look. Feng Xin, on the other hand, looked as if he had a bad stomachache and wanted to leave very badly.

“However, a god should have more than one worshiper, shouldn’t he?” Jun Wu said, leaning back in his throne.

“Yes,” Xie Lian said. “I’m not entirely sure how to do attract more, though. Aside from building another temple myself…”

Feng Xin turned red and then white at the idea. Xie Lian was very aware that the idea of a god building a temple to himself would be considered too embarrassing to even contemplate by the other gods, but he knew that he would have to do whatever was necessary. He wasn’t like his former bodyguard and former attendant, who had thousands of temples and hundreds of thousands of worshipers. He was starting over, long after his exploits had been forgotten by the mortal world.

And he couldn’t simply rely on Hua Cheng alone to support him with his worship, especially after his love had provided him with nine million merits in the space of a few hours. Hua Cheng would gladly support him by building ten thousand temples if it would make Xie Lian happy, but Xie Lian would never want to put Hua Cheng to such trouble over something he ought to accomplish himself. He wanted Hua Cheng to be proud of him, not feeling that he had to provide whatever Xie Lian needed or wanted.

“I’m aware that I’m not popular among the gods,” Xie Lian continued, clasping his hands. “Especially after Hua Cheng frightened so many of them. And in the mortal realm, almost nobody remembers the Prince of Xianle any longer — and the few who do know me as a god of misfortune.”

“They may know you as a god of something else soon,” Jun Wu said soberly.

Xie Lian blinked. “What do you mean?”

Jun Wu leaned forward in his seat, gazing down at Xie Lian with a warm expression. “You are a very strange person, Xianle. No other god has ascended three times in the history of Heaven — only you have seemed so uniquely destined to return, no matter what. I’ve seen some gods return to Heaven after being banished, but they usually returned because of the same reasons they ascended in the first place.” He sighed. “But you are different, Xianle. You ascended for a different reason each time.”

“I did?” Xie Lian said faintly.

Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure what had caused him to ascend. There was no telling what would lead to a person’s ascension, except that it was usually tied to something significant and dramatic — a powerful general snapping his sword as his enemies approached, a selfless princess killing herself to save her family, a noble prince who fought a murderous ghost for days before laying it to rest.

“Your first ascension was because of your martial ability and your dedicated cultivation,” Jun Wu said, his dark eyes glinting. “And the second time… we won’t speak about what triggered that ascension.”

Xie Lian’s fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of his robe. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Then… what am I a god of now?”
Jun Wu rose from his seat and gracefully descended towards Xie Lian, his shimmering robes flowing around him. “Xianle, you are now… a god of love.”

Silence fell again — this time because Xie Lian was too stunned to speak.

Even when Jun Wu repeated himself, it didn’t seem to make any sense to Xie Lian. When he had been seventeen, he had ascended because of his martial skills, something he had trained in for his entire youth. So becoming a martial ghost, immortalized with a sword in hand, had made perfect logical sense to him when it happened.

But he had only been in love for six months. Six months, out of five hundred years of life. He had never been in love with anyone other than Hua Cheng, and — his face flushed slightly — their relationship hadn’t advanced any further than kissing yet. How could someone who knew so little about love become a god of it?

“That can’t be right, my lord,” Xie Lian said quietly.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not — experienced. I’ve only ever been in love with one person.”

Jun Wu gazed at him thoughtfully, and placed a strong hand on Xie Lian’s shoulder. “I don’t pretend to know what could have caused you to ascend, Xianle — only that you must have made some great gesture of immense love and devotion. Do you have some idea what that might have been?”

Xie Lian could feel heat flooding into his face, and he quickly bowed his head to avoid meeting Jun Wu’s eyes. He could guess what that gesture had been, and he only felt relief that asking Hua Cheng to make love to him had been the cause of his ascension, and not making love itself. Otherwise, he might have ascended in the middle of the act rather than before they could begin… and then he would have died of embarrassment.

He closed his eyes, and remembered the feeling of Hua Cheng’s hands on his hair and his back, the feeling of the ghost king’s lips pressed to his. In a strange way, he felt as if his lover was there with him, even in Heaven — and he had to quickly glance around to make sure that no butterflies had appeared.

An odd thought flitted through his head — that he owed his godhood to Hua Cheng. If it hadn’t been for Hua Cheng loving him devotedly for five hundred years, he wouldn’t have ascended again — perhaps ever — because he would never have known love. Ever. No one in all that time, man or woman, had even come close to capturing his heart. It was that love that had pushed him to ascend again.

Chapter Text

“We shall put aside the question of what gesture of love caused you to ascend,” Jun Wu said diplomatically. “The important thing is that you’ve returned.”

“I suppose so,” Xie Lian said, rubbing one arm with the opposite hand.

“That includes your palace, Xianle.”

“I… didn’t know I still had one.”

“I had it rebuilt when you ascended,” Jun Wu said, smiling. “It’s very similar to the one you dwelled in during your first ascension.”

Xie Lian smiled politely, but he already knew that he wasn’t going to be living in this new palace, no matter how beautiful or richly-furnished it was. His home was with Hua Cheng, wherever the ghost king chose to dwell, and he knew for a fact that Hua Cheng wouldn’t be welcome in Heaven.

“I’m very thankful for the palace,” he said quietly. “But I think I will continue to reside in Ghost City.”

Jun Wu inclined his head, his eyes searching Xie Lian’s face, as if the prince were a manuscript written in some ancient half-forgotten tongue. “You really do love him, don’t you, Xianle?” he said in a very quiet voice.

Xie Lian raised his chin, and nodded. “I do, my lord.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath from one of the two martial gods behind him, but he wasn’t sure which one it was. Aside from that breath, the entire cavernous hall was silent.

Even though he had chosen to come here, Xie Lian suddenly wished that Hua Cheng was there with him. It would have been the worst possible choice for Crimson Rain Sought Flower to enter Heaven, but he wanted desperately to show them all that Hua Cheng loved him, was loved by him, and would never even dream of hurting him. Everything they thought about him — that he was loveless and cruel — was so far from the truth that Xie Lian just wanted them to see how tender and caring he truly was.

Jun Wu’s face was impassive, and for the first time Xie Lian couldn’t tell what the Emperor of Heaven was thinking. He was usually warm and welcoming to Xie Lian — he had once said that being in Xie Lian’s presence warmed his heart — but the gravity in his eyes made Xie Lian nervous. Especially since he had gone so far as to send Middle Heaven officials to spy on him the previous day.

Then a terrible idea flitted through Xie Lian’s head. Was Jun Wu going to demand that he leave Hua Cheng, or face the loss of his godhood a third time?

If he did, then it was no choice. Xie Lian had never expected to ascend a third time — he had been lucky to ascend a second time, after the disasters that had befallen his country because of him. Being a god would be meaningless if he was alone again, and he didn’t want to be with anyone but his beloved ghost king.

Most of Xie Lian’s life had been spent in loneliness and unhappiness, drifting through the world like a leaf flowing in a river. But he had never realized how just how miserable he had been for so long until he met Hua Cheng. There were moments where his dark past seemed to slip away and be forgotten, and there was nothing but the brightness that filled his heart when they were together.

“My lord,” he said quietly, “I am going to remain with Hua Cheng, no matter what. It’s not something that can be negotiated. If my relationship with him is not something that Heaven can tolerate—“

“That is not the case, Xianle,” Jun Wu said gently. “I do not think it is wise, but I will not try to forbid you from associating with him. I know how strong your will is.” He sighed. “I was simply thinking of some method by which you might be able to amass worshipers once again.”

“That would be difficult,” Mu Qing said.

Xie Lian clasped his hands. “I’m not sure how it can be done, but I am willing to work hard.”

“Then return soon, Xianle. I may have something for you.”

*

A soft, flower-scented breeze blew as Xie Lian left the Palace of Divine Might, blowing his hair back from his face. His spirits began to lift as he walked down the jade-paved road that led past the gardens and groves, pavilions and smaller buildings.

Before arriving, he hadn’t been sure how Jun Wu would react. In just a few days, Hua Cheng had challenged the emperor, and then lashed out at an important martial god — and Xie Lian now realized that he had been tensely waiting for someone to say that there would be retaliation from Heaven. If he had to choose sides, Xie Lian knew that he would be by Hua Cheng, but he didn’t want it to come to that.

Then his mind flew to the thought of what Jun Wu had said about him — that he was now a god of love. Because of his love for Hua Cheng. Because he was willing to sacrifice the thing that had once been most important to him, so that he and Hua Cheng could love each other in every possible way. It was a daunting idea, and a part of him still couldn't believe that his love had been this powerful.

Xie Lian smiled a little, wondering what Hua Cheng would think when he heard the news. Considering how upset he had been the night before, Xie Lian hoped that it would please him.

Several gods were idling near the Palace of Divine Might as Xie Lian left it, though he didn’t recognize most of them. The only one who looked familiar was the god dressed all in black, who was sitting nearby. His piercing eyes locked on Xie Lian again, as if he were trying to stare through him.

“Excuse me?” Xie Lian said politely.

The man’s gaze flickered, as if he hadn't expected Xie Lian to speak to him. “What?”

“Have we met before?”

The corner of the stranger’s lips twisted. “No. Never.”

Xie Lian frowned. “I was just wondering why you were staring at me — and why you were following me so closely when I first ascended.”

The strange god’s face lapsed into expressionlessness. “If you don’t know, then I won’t be the one to tell you.” Then he turned and walked away.

Xie Lian was puzzled by the strange response, but decided to not let it bother him. He swept past the other gods, meeting their curious stares and angry glares with a pleasant smile. Some of them seemed abashed or embarrassed that their attention had been noticed, while a very small of them — such as the man with the fan — simply smiled back, or looked contemplative, as if they were judging him.

He managed to descend back to the mortal realm without injuring himself this time, which he was devoutly grateful for. The last thing Xie Lian wanted to do was make Hua Cheng worry about him. As he reached the gates of Ghost City, he was hurrying as fast as his legs would carry him. His heart was racing like a bird’s, and he found that all he could think about was Hua Cheng’s face, being in his arms —

That was when he noticed that a massive crowd had amassed around a single building in the main thoroughfare. The streets of the city were always swarming with ghosts of every size, shape and description, but usually they were all intent on their own missions — unless something happened to attract their attention. Xie Lian tried to rise on his toes to see, but there were too many ghosts between him and whatever they were looking for.

“Excuse me,” he said to a ghost that resembled a drowned woman. “What is everyone looking at?”

The ghosts around him suddenly turned their attention to the familiar voice, and a chorus of voices — shrill, croaking, deep and eerie — suddenly cried out.

“Xie-daozhang! He’s back!”

“Quick, someone tell Chengzhu!”

“Grand-uncle, come this way!”

Before Xie Lian could say anything, he was suddenly being pulled and pushed through the crowd, ghosts simultaneously propelling him to the forefront of the crowd even as they skittered out of his way. He tried to protest that he didn’t want to go this way — he wanted to go back to Paradise Manor and Hua Cheng, and had just been curious—

But then he saw Hua Cheng, standing at the forefront of the crowd with his robes gleaming like blood. His face was turned towards the building, looking stark and even paler than it usually did. And despite the sudden commotion, he didn’t seem to realize that Xie Lian was there.

“Chengzhu!” a bird-headed ghost squawked beside Xie Lian. “Xie-daozhang is back!”

Hua Cheng’s head snapped around, and his eye fixed on Xie Lian’s face. In only a few steps, he was at Xie Lian’s side, wrapping his arms around his god and trying to block Xie Lian’s view with his shoulder. “Gege,” he said quietly. “Don’t look.”

But Xie Lian had already looked. The side of the building had been defaced with green paint, and ugly-looking words had been scrawled across its walls.

DOG-FUCKED XIE LIAN

Chapter Text

“It’s all right, San Lang. It’s just a vulgar message — it’s not as if it’s dangerous.”

Hua Cheng’s fingers dug into his knees, which was the only way he could keep them from trembling. Xie Lian was pressed against him as they knelt on the fur-carpeted floor of Paradise Manor, and his strong, gentle hands were clinging to Hua Cheng’s maple-red robes. He had been trying to reassure Hua Cheng for the better part of two hours, apparently believing that the graffiti had just been the doing of some embittered minor ghost.

Hua Cheng hadn’t yet told Xie Lian about Qi Rong. Or rather, why Qi Rong would choose to threaten him. Xie Lian had been told about the foul little moron already, but thought that his name was a coincidence. He had no idea that Qi Rong was actually his own cousin, because Hua Cheng hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell Xie Lian that his last living blood relation had become even more monstrous in death than he had been in life. And in life, he had been pretty monstrous…

Hua Cheng wrapped an arm around Xie Lian’s shoulder, and pulled him into his embrace. He supposed it was his own fault that Qi Rong had learned about his cousin being in Ghost City. Hua Cheng had been so happy and proud about his relationship with Xie Lian that he had flaunted it, walking through the streets of his city with his god’s arm linked with his own, kissing in restaurants, letting his name be known to every ghost passing through.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian murmured. His long lashes brushed the thin sliver of pale chest exposed just below Hua Cheng’s throat, his cheek pressed against the silver butterfly necklace. “Something is bothering you — please tell me what it is.”

Hua Cheng stroked his hair for a moment, before murmuring, “I should have told you before, gege.”

“Told me what?”

“That message was left by Qi Rong.”

“Oh,” Xie Lian said faintly, raising his head. “Is he trying to upset you?”

“That may be part of it, gege. But he’s also threatening you.”

Xie Lian frowned. “Me? What does he know about me?”

Hua Cheng’s fingers pressed against Xie Lian’s shoulder, and he had to make sure not to press too hard. “He’s also five hundred years old, gege. Once, he was a prince of Xianle.”

For a few seconds, Xie Lian didn’t respond — and then his body stiffened. “Wait — a prince of Xianle — but — you mean that Qi Rong is — THAT Qi Rong?” he said faintly.

He pulled back to look into Hua Cheng’s eye, his face showing mingled disbelief and horror. “You mean he’s become a ghost — I wouldn’t care about that part, but you told me he — he eats —“

“Humans,” Hua Cheng said soberly. “He’s trying to imitate Black Water consuming other ghosts, but is too stupid to know that humans won’t increase his power.”

Xie Lian looked as if he were going to vomit. “I thought — I knew already that ghosts usually changed their names after they died. I never dreamed that he was the same Qi Rong…”

“He’s an idiot,” Hua Cheng said.

Xie Lian made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “He is,” he murmured. “He really is…” His slender fingers clutched at Hua Cheng’s arms, and he bowed his head slightly as if overwhelmed by this new information. For several minutes he said nothing, and the only sign of his state of mind was the way his fingers clutched at Hua Cheng’s robes.

Fear began to flicker to life inside Hua Cheng. He hadn’t seen Xie Lian like this ever since the prince had found out that Hua Cheng loved him — troubled, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. Was his god… angry with him for not telling him about Qi Rong earlier? Xie Lian had never been angry with him before, but the thought of what he might say in anger was enough to make Hua Cheng quake.

“Gege,” he said in a low, desperate voice. “Tell me what's wrong."

"Why didn't you tell me?” Xie Lian said softly.

Hua Cheng clasped Xie Lian’s hand between his own. “Forgive me, your highness,” he said. “I didn’t want to burden you with the knowledge that your only remaining relative was now… what he is.” He bowed his head, his long black hair brushing Xie Lian’s fingers. “For the past six months, gege has seemed so happy, I didn’t want to say or do anything that might upset him.”

Then he felt a gentle pressure on his forehead, and the firm touch of Xie Lian’s other hand under his jaw. “I’m not angry, San Lang,” Xie Lian breathed. “I just… was shocked. I had no idea that he was still out there — that he might want to come after me.”

“He won’t come near you,” Hua Cheng said fiercely. “I won’t let him.”

Xie Lian smiled. “You said he hadn't reached Supreme rank, right? I might be able to fight him myself.”

“You don’t need to do it,” Hua Cheng said. “I’ve met him before.”

Xie Lian’s smile faded. “I know. He tried to kill you when you were young — and he almost succeeded.”

“That gives me even more of a reason to beat him to a pulp,” Hua Cheng said fiercely. “I’ve done that more than once — I know for a fact that he can’t even come close to hurting me.” He raised his face close to Xie Lian’s, his eye glimmering in the lantern-light. “Those words weren’t just an insult — they were a challenge, and a threat.”

“It doesn't matter, if San Lang is with me,” Xie Lian said, stroking his thumb against Hua Cheng’s cheek. Warmth trailed on the ghost king’s cool skin where his god touched him. “If you are going after him, I want to come with you.”

Hua Cheng gazed into Xie Lian’s eyes, and saw nothing but determination gleaming there. His god had clearly made up his mind, and even though Hua Cheng wanted to plead with Xie Lian to let him handle everything, he could tell that the pleading would lead to nothing. He nodded once, raising a hand to caress the hand touching his jaw.

“Your wish is my command, gege,” he said in a low voice.

They moved to the black jade divan, which was large enough that two — or more — people could recline comfortably. Xie Lian lay comfortably on Hua Cheng’s chest, his cheek resting against Hua Cheng’s throat. Hua Cheng could feel the lean muscle and soft skin through his silk robe; he knew from experience that Xie Lian was much stronger than he looked, and had been even before he had ascended. Somehow, he found that even more exciting.

As they lay together, Xie Lian recounted his journey to Heaven and everything that had happened. Hua Cheng idly ran his fingers through Xie Lian’s hair, trying to stifle his annoyance at the way the Heavenly Officials were treating him — as if he had done something wrong that they could gossip about. At the same time, he felt a savage kind of amusement that he had frightened them all badly enough that they didn’t dare to insult Xie Lian again.

“… and when they saw my bruises, they thought… they…” Xie Lian said, stammering a little.

“They thought I beat you,” Hua Cheng said flatly.

“Yes. I told them that you didn’t — that you wouldn’t, ever — but I don’t think any of them believed me.”

Hua Cheng’s arm tightened around him, drawing him closer. “As long as gege knows that, I don’t care what those trash think. They never cared about you before, so why pretend now?”

“They’re not as bad as you think, San Lang,” Xie Lian said gently, running his finger over the elaborate silver necklace resting near his face. “And… I have something else to tell you.”

“What is that, gege?”

“Jun Wu… told me the reason that I ascended this time. He said I’m…”

Xie Lian’s voice dropped to a mumble, and Hua Cheng felt heat flooding the cheek pressed against his throat.

“You’re what, gege?” he murmured.

“A god of — of love.” Xie Lian raised his face to look directly into Hua Cheng’s eye, though his cheeks were still flushed. It made him even more beautiful. “He said that I ascended because I — I made some great gesture of love that — that most people could never have. I thought he must be mistaken, because I don’t have any experience before this — but that means…”

Hua Cheng’s eye widened. “So… you ascended because… because of how you felt about me…” he breathed.

Xie Lian’s face blushed more deeply, but he nodded. “It was because of you, San Lang.”

A joy like he had never felt before was welling up inside Hua Cheng, flooding every corner of his soul with a burning delight. He had never even known that it was possible for love to cause someone to ascend — and even if he had, he would never have been arrogant enough to think that Xie Lian would love him enough for that to happen. Yet… that was what had happened.

For a moment, Hua Cheng remembered the long dark years of his past, when he had often wondered if he was chasing a hopeless fantasy. Wondered if Xie Lian could love someone like him at all, a bloody accursed ghost with only one eye. And even when he had Xie Lian’s love, there were still moments when he had found himself wondering if Xie Lian loved him anywhere as deeply as he was loved.

But this was something that no doubt could assail. His god loved him — loved him so deeply that it had drawn him back to Heaven, and remade him as a god of love. Not even those filthy hypocrites could fool themselves into thinking Xie Lian wasn’t with Hua Cheng for love now…
Xie Lian seemed to sense what he was thinking. His smile was almost painfully bright, and his eyes were soft and luminous. “It was all because of you, San Lang,” he repeated.

“Gege…” Hua Cheng said hoarsely. Words failed him. He couldn’t think of anything he could say that would express how he felt.

So he seized Xie Lian and rolled the god on top of his body, capturing his lips and plundering his sweet-tasting mouth. Xie Lian made a faint surprised sound at first, before closing his eyes and leaning in, his fingers tangling in Hua Cheng’s hair and his slender body molding itself over Hua Cheng’s. In that moment, all thoughts of Heaven or Qi Rong faded away — and there was only the two of them.

Chapter Text

“How many more days until the palace is rebuilt?” Feng Xin asked irritably.

The Middle Heaven official bowed. “At least three more days, General.”

“Shit.” Feng Xin rubbed his forehead. “I’m going to my room. Don’t bother me unless it’s really important, all right?”

He didn’t like living in the temporary palace. While it didn’t lack for any comforts or aesthetic beauty, it was very clearly not HIS palace — it wasn’t built according to his taste or specifications, and none of his possessions were in it. It was like staying in a stranger’s house, with the constant feeling that the true owner might show up at any moment and demand to know why Feng Xin was resting his boots on the furniture.

He swept away to the palatial bedroom and shut himself inside. Gods didn’t need sleep, but some of them enjoyed it enough that they did it anyway. Feng Xin didn’t sleep often, but he always kept a bedroom in his palace so that he would have somewhere to retreat when he wanted to think and be alone.

And right now, he wanted to be alone.

He stripped off his armor and threw himself on the wide, luxurious bed, staring up at the gauzy white curtains that drifted over him like clouds. He couldn’t help but feel irritated at Jun Wu, although he knew nobody would ever admit that they felt that way towards the Emperor. He hadn’t given the two martial gods even the slightest hint that Xie Lian had ascended because of his love for Hua Cheng. Feng Xin had been devoutly convinced that Xie Lian was bespelled at first, but now he knew that he had been wrong. There was no way to ascend because of something unnatural or artificial — or if there was, he had never heard of it.

Maybe it was Feng Xin’s imagination, but he thought that Jun Wu seemed a little… annoyed that Xie Lian was now so devoted to Hua Cheng. The Heavenly Emperor had always been very fond of Xie Lian, and had seemed genuinely happy that he had ascended again. Maybe he was a little jealous of Hua Cheng?

It was still a little mind-boggling. Feng Xin had known Xie Lian when he was a teenager and during his early twenties, when passions and attractions were at their strongest. But he never showed outward interest in anybody, man or woman. He had been so dedicated to his cultivation and ascension that no one person could even come close. At times, he had wondered if Xie Lian was even capable of desiring another person.

His mind immediately dredged up the memory of the two of them at Gambler’s Den, Hua Cheng burying his face in Xie Lian’s shoulder while the prince whispered soft words of reassurance, his eyes bright as stars. It still didn’t make sense to him — he didn’t understand how ANYBODY could be in love with Crimson Rain Sought Flower, let alone Xie Lian. Hua Cheng wasn’t a lovable kind of person. It was like hearing someone saying they were in love with Mu Qing, only more so.

Feng Xin frowned, and massaged his temples. Maybe… maybe Hua Cheng had treated him differently from how he treated everyone else. It was just that… Feng Xin couldn’t imagine why. Xie Lian had plenty of qualities that made him attractive to others, but what about him would be enough to enthrall the monstrous ghost who haunted the nightmares of multiple gods? People didn’t just change, did they?

Someone knocked on the door.

“I don’t want to be disturbed!” Feng Xin called.

“Forgive me, General Nan Yang,” a muffled voice said. “He insisted that we tell you—“

“He who?”

“General Xuan Zhen.”

Feng Xin groaned. He briefly thought about telling the young official, “Tell him I’m dead and can’t talk to him,” but he suspected that if Mu Qing really wanted to talk to him, he would barge in anyway. Mumbling obscenities under his breath, he rolled off his bed and stalked out of his bedroom.

Mu Qing was waiting for him, his arms crossed over his chest. As Feng Xin approached, he gave the disarmored general an appraising look, and wrinkled his nose slightly.

“You’re coming to meet a guest dressed like that?” he said disdainfully.

“You’re not a guest. You’re just slightly above an intruder. I was relaxing in my bedroom, and I’m not getting fully dressed again just for you.”

They glared at one another for a moment.

“What do you want?” Feng Xin said at last. “After last night, I really don’t want to even look at you. We’re just lucky that his highness didn’t know that that was you who got into a fight with Crimson Rain Sought Flower, or he’d—“

“You don’t need to remind me,” Mu Qing sneered. His lips were pale, as if he had just escaped some frightening situation. “It’s because of the prince that I’m here now.”

“What about him?”

“He still doesn’t know.”

Feng Xin frowned. “You mean about the coral pearl?” His brows drew together. “You didn’t tell Jun Wu, did you?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted his highness to know first,” Mu Qing said sharply. “He needs to know that Hua Cheng might be kind to him now, but it’s only because he’s an obsessed stalker.”

Feng Xin started to reply, but the words stuck in his throat. Once again, he remembered the sight of Xie Lian’s face as he spoke soothing words to Hua Cheng, cradling the ghost’s face between his hands. Even with hundreds of ghosts and two Heavenly officials there, the gesture had been so intimate, as if nothing around them mattered. Now that he looked back on it, he felt almost embarrassed to have seen it.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I don’t know if it’ll make a difference.”

“Of course it will,” Mu Qing said impatiently. “He’d have to be a simpleton to not be alarmed by that. You don’t think he was telling the truth about those bruises, do you?”

The truth was, Feng Xin wasn’t sure. A part of him knew perfectly well that when someone was beaten, especially when it was by a lover, they would sometimes defend their abuser despite all the harm done to them. He had no idea if Xie Lian was that kind of person — not only had he never seen Xie Lian in love before, but he hadn’t seen Xie Lian in five hundred years. Maybe he was the kind of person who defended the one who beat him, god or not.

But on the other hand… there had been a kind of piercing clarity in his face when he declared that Hua Cheng would never hurt him. His face hadn’t been the face of a liar, or someone who was afraid — it had been clear and bright and open. When he said that he had gotten those injuries by accident, and that they hadn’t been caused by Hua Cheng, Feng Xin couldn’t help but believe him.

“I don’t know what I think,” Feng Xin said at last.

Mu Qing scoffed. “You’re the one who suggested a truce so we could make sure he was all right.”

“I know that,” Feng Xin shot back. “But I don’t know if anything would convince him to leave Hua Cheng at this point. And to be honest…”

He couldn’t quite bring himself to say what he was thinking, that Xie Lian seemed happier with Hua Cheng than either of them had ever seen him. When the prince had stepped out of the litter, his face had practically glowed with joy — and it had been all about Hua Cheng. If the ghost king really made him that happy, Feng Xin thought reluctantly, shouldn’t they at least… think about what made him happy?

He felt almost like a traitor thinking that way — that he was putting Xie Lian’s happiness ahead of his well-being. Five hundred years ago, making sure Xie Lian didn’t come to harm had been his sole responsibility — not just because the prince was his charge, but because he was his friend. But now he wasn’t sure what to do.

Chapter Text

For the next few days, Xie Lian stayed close to Hua Cheng, and close to Paradise Manor.

He still wasn’t entirely sure whether or not DOG-FUCKED XIE LIAN had been intended as a threat, or whether Qi Rong had been trying to infuriate both of them. But it didn’t really matter. Hua Cheng was grimly determined to keep him as far away from the green ghost as possible, and for the moment, Xie Lian was content to go along with his love. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to confronting his crazed cousin, especially after five hundred years of Qi Rong becoming progressively worse than he ever had been in life.

So Xie Lian remained in the manor or at Thousand Lights Temple, allowing his bruises and cracked bones to heal. He busied himself by fixing the items he had obtained in his last scrap-collection outing, including the toy horse with the broken-off head. Some child would enjoy it, he thought with a smile as he painted the thin crack around its neck.

“What do you think, San Lang?” he said, holding up the toy.

Hua Cheng was lounging nearby, the silver chains on his boots tinkling gently as he shifted. “Gege is skilled at this,” he murmured. “How many times have you done this before?”

“More times than I can remember,” Xie Lian said. “I always enjoyed putting broken things back together…”

He felt Hua Cheng nuzzling his shoulder from behind, and quickly set down his brush. His beloved had been even more attentive than usual these past few days, and whenever he wasn’t grimly furious over Qi Rong, he seemed happier than ever before. Hearing that Xie Lian’s love was deep and powerful enough to make him ascend had seemed to thrill him as deeply as when Xie Lian had first asked for a kiss.

And that fact made Xie Lian’s heart soar. He knew that even though Hua Cheng was beautiful, powerful and brilliant, he often doubted himself where Xie Lian was concerned. He had been afraid that his love would abandon him when he had the chance to dwell in Heaven, even though the idea had never even crossed Xie Lian’s mind. Now — at least for the moment — this news seemed to have driven those doubts from Hua Cheng’s mind.

“Does gege have something on his mind?” Hua Cheng murmured.

Xie Lian turned his head towards Hua Cheng’s, feeling his lover’s lips trailing up the side of his throat. “I was — just thinking about finding somewhere for a shrine…”

“Tell me where you want it, and I’ll make sure it’s built.”

“San Lang, you built me one temple already—“

“One temple isn’t enough.” Hua Cheng’s tongue darted out to brush Xie Lian’s earlobe. “After all, a god of love won’t lack for believers. Most mortals want it.”

Xie Lian twisted around to face Hua Cheng, and sank into his arms. His lover’s form felt wonderfully solid and powerful, even though he was a ghost. His slender, strong hands roamed down Xie Lian’s sides to his backside, tracing over it with maddening gentleness. Xie Lian squirmed a little, wanting Hua Cheng to hold him more tightly, with greater strength.

“I’m not sure what to do,” he breathed.

“About what?”

“Prayers. I couldn’t just make someone fall in love with someone else…” Xie Lian murmured. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t — real love isn’t something you can force someone to feel…”

Hua Cheng drew back a little, his shining black eye gazing at Xie Lian’s face with an expression of aching tenderness. His long fingers tugged at Xie Lian’s long hair, skimmed through it. “Maybe gege could give them the courage to tell the one they love about how they feel,” he said.

“Someone like you?” Xie Lian said fondly.

Hua Cheng smiled softly. “I never had the courage to tell you about how I felt,” he said quietly, his other hand slipping into the small of Xie Lian’s back, pulling him closer. “You found out yourself.”

“I wish you had,” Xie Lian said, sliding deeper into Hua Cheng’s embrace. “We might have come together a few weeks earlier.”

“Forgive me for my cowardice, gege.”

Xie Lian rested his cheek against Hua Cheng’s shoulder, feeling his love’s fingers tracing up and down his spine. “San Lang…”

“Yes?”

“Would you ever… want the intervention of a god of love who has almost no experience in it?”

Hua Cheng’s lips were a whisper away from Xie Lian’s, and his long lashes brushed Xie Lian’s cheek. “I would,” he murmured, “if that god was you.”

“San Lang!” Xie Lian said with a hint of frustration.

Hua Cheng leaned back, studying his beloved’s face, even as his hands continued to roam over Xie Lian’s body. “I can’t speak for other believers, gege,” he said softly. “But would rather be blessed by a god who has loved only once, truly and with his whole heart, than a god who has left a trail of lovers in his wake without truly caring for any of them, or a god whose love dies easily. It matters more what gege feels than how long or how many times he has loved.”

Xie Lian smiled, and leaned forward to capture Hua Cheng’s lips. Warmth blossomed like peonies between their lips, the wet pressure of Hua Cheng’s tongue slid into his mouth, and strong hands gripped his torso. He knew that Hua Cheng was biased, but somehow, he didn’t care — when his most devoted believer spoke of him with such conviction, he felt that with San Lang by his side, he could do anything.

*

In his bath that night, Xie Lian examined his body. For the past four days — at Hua Cheng’s insistence — he had been resting and allowing himself to heal. He still wasn’t used to the idea, since for five hundred years, making a living had been prioritized over letting himself heal from whatever misfortunes befell him.

The ugly purple-and-black bruises from his fall had faded to a brown and green mottling, and the scrapes and cuts on his thigh and face had completely vanished. Even the solid band of bruising on his belly had faded to just a few ugly splotches. Almost all the pain was gone, and the warmth of the scented water soothed the few twinges that were left.

After Xie Lian had washed himself, he donned his pants and a luminous robe that looked like it had been spun from moonlight. It covered most of his remaining bruises, which pleased Xie Lian — he wanted Hua Cheng to see him at his most pleasing, rather than being distracted by his injuries. He wanted to feel Hua Cheng’s lips on his face, his throat, his chest — he wanted the feeling of the ghost king’s lean, muscled body pressed against his —

But as he came into their bedroom, he instantly knew that something was different. The usual lanterns had been replaced with ones that were a little warmer, tinted a little more ruddily. Hua Cheng usually draped himself against the headboard when he waited for Xie Lian to join him in bed, but on this occasion, he was sitting upright at the foot of the bed. He looked oddly nervous, his hands tightly clasped together in his lap, his dark eye shining as the god in white silk approached him.

And behind him, the silk blanket was strewn with flowers. White flowers. Like an altar to a forgotten god.

Xie Lian’s breath caught in his throat, and his heart began to beat faster. Hua Cheng rose from the bed and enfolded Xie Lian in his arms, a smile on his lips that was somehow both gentle and wicked.

“Tonight?” Xie Lian said softly.

“Tonight,” Hua Cheng said.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian’s heart fluttered against his ribs as Hua Cheng kissed him, gently guiding him towards the bed. It seemed a lifetime ago that he had asked Hua Cheng to make love to him, because so many things had happened since then. His ascension, the trouble with the Heavenly Officials, Qi Rong’s intrusion into Ghost City. In truth, it had only been five or six days — and if he hadn’t been injured, it would have happened far sooner.

The edge of the bed struck the back of Xie Lian’s knees, and he nearly stumbled back. But Hua Cheng’s hands on his back held him steady, slowly lowering him down to sit on the silk blankets. The scent of the flowers wafted around him, a perfume simpler and yet richer than any scent that mortal hands could concoct. It reminded Xie Lian of a simpler time, of a young, abused boy who had dutifully placed a white flower in the hand of one of his least impressive statues. Every day. Without fail.

Xie Lian loved white flowers. He always had.

He gasped slightly as a cool, slim hand slipped inside his silk robe, tracing long fingers over the muscles of his shoulder. Hua Cheng had pulled down his robes before to lavish his attentions on Xie Lian’s shoulders and chest, but somehow intent made the touch more intimate. The robe loosened and slid from Xie Lian’s soft skin, baring his shoulder and part of his chest.

Hua Cheng bent close as he slid the other half of Xie Lian’s robe down his other shoulder, his fingers light and gentle on Xie Lian’s skin. “Gege,” he whispered.

Then Xie Lian felt something — a faint tremor in Hua Cheng’s hands. It passed quickly, but he looked up quickly at Hua Cheng’s face. His expression was tense and intent, as if he were doing something intricate and delicate, and Xie Lian could detect a hint of nervousness in Hua Cheng’s wide, dark eye.

It wasn’t a surprise that Hua Cheng would be nervous, now that Xie Lian thought about it. He had as little experience as Xie Lian himself, even though he had studied the subject of lovemaking. He had been waiting for five hundred years to make love to Xie Lian, hoping and dreaming of something that he must have known might never happen. It was more than an act of love — it was the purest form of worship that he knew.

And Hua Cheng always wanted things to be perfect for Xie Lian — whenever he did something for his prince, he always went out of his way to sweep Xie Lian off his feet. He would want to give Xie Lian pleasure that no one else could, to make the loss of his cultivation worth it. He would want every touch, every moment to be agonizingly exquisite — and he might feel that he had failed if he didn’t manage that impossibly high bar.

Somehow, knowing that Hua Cheng was as nervous as he was — perhaps even more so — made Xie Lian’s own fears diminish. Suddenly all he wanted to do was soothe his lover.

“San Lang,” he whispered, touching his fingers to Hua Cheng’s face. “It’s all right.”

Hua Cheng gazed at him, his lips parted.

“This is only the first time,” Xie Lian said gently. “We’ll have so many times in the future, so many things we can learn from each other.” He pressed a soft kiss to Hua Cheng’s forehead, before moving down to his lips. "Don't worry. It’s enough that it’s with you — that you’re the one making love to me. That’s all I want.”

Despite his words, he felt Hua Cheng’s hands tremble again as they fumbled with the sash of his robe. The robe slipped down his body and fell around him like a pool of starlight.

“Gege is so beautiful,” Hua Cheng whispered.

His hands slid down to the waist of Xie Lian’s pants. A gentle push was enough to slide the garment down his hips, along his lean thighs, and finally remove it from his body altogether.

It was what Xie Lian wanted, but he still felt a blush bloom on his face, and he had to force himself not to snatch up the sheet to cover himself. He heard the sharp intake of Hua Cheng’s breath, saw the desire roiling in his dark eye as he looked over the pale, slender body in front of him, now bare and waiting for his touch.

“There’s something I have to give you first, gege,” Hua Cheng said hoarsely.

He slipped a hand into his robes, and withdrew something that sparkled in the faint light. Xie Lian leaned forward, and his breath caught. It was a ring carved from pure, transparent diamond, more exquisite than anything he had ever seen, hung on a delicate silver chain.

“What is it?” he asked.

Hua Cheng smiled softly. “My ashes.”

Xie Lian’s eyes widened. “But you told me—“

“Yes. A ghost’s existence depends on his ashes — if the ashes are destroyed, so is the ghost.” Hua Cheng’s eye glimmered as he looked down at Xie Lian. “It’s a custom that when you love someone — when you trust them completely — you give them your ashes.”

“I can't," Xie Lian said faintly. “What if something happened to me — it might break, or —“

Hua Cheng slipped the chain around Xie Lian’s throat, letting the ring rest against his breastbone. “If something happened to gege that was enough to shatter that ring,” Hua Cheng said softly, “then I wouldn’t want to exist any longer anyway. And if gege didn’t care to protect it, I wouldn’t care either.”

Xie Lian cradled the ring in his hand, almost afraid that it would dissolve and blow away if he wasn’t careful. “San Lang — there must be somewhere safer than — mmph!”

Suddenly Hua Cheng was kissing him, as his hands gently slid the ring back to the center of Xie Lian’s chest. Xie Lian felt those long, sensitive fingers slide over his hands, and gently press them to Hua Cheng’s chest. He suddenly realized that while his own body was naked, Hua Cheng was still fully dressed in his crimson robes, with an elaborate silver necklace around his throat and silver-chained boots on his feet.

“Your turn, gege,” Hua Cheng said softly.

Xie Lian felt as if his face was on fire as he fumbled with Hua Cheng’s silver-plated belt, something that he had never tried to remove before. Next came the necklace, which tinkled softly as Xie Lian unclasped it and pulled it from Hua Cheng's throat. It was such a part of him that it felt almost wrong to remove it, but Hua Cheng made it clear that he wanted to stand before his god with everything exposed.

He stayed still as Xie Lian peeled the robes from his body, exposing the lean muscles and pale skin that lay underneath. Xie Lian felt as if someone had knocked the air from his lungs — he knew Hua Cheng had seen him naked or half-clothed on multiple occasions, but he had never seen Hua Cheng naked before. He was as beautiful outside of his clothes as he was in them — long and lean, muscular while still graceful and sleek.

When all the clothes were gone, Xie Lian drew a shuddering breath, his eyes roaming to a certain part of Hua Cheng’s body. Heat flooded through him, pooling in his groin. Then he quickly looked away, his old habits kicking in — an instinctive turning away from anything that might cause him to feel lust —

“Gege,” Hua Cheng said quietly. “Do I not… please you?”

“Of course you do!” Xie Lian said quickly, looking back. “Too much — I — I’m just — I’m not used to this…”

Hua Cheng sat down beside him, his touch gentle as he tipped Xie Lian’s chin up to meet his kiss. “Then… allow me,” he whispered.

“Allow you to what?”

“Make you… ready, gege.”

The next thing Xie Lian knew, Hua Cheng was lowering him to the flower-strewn bed. His nervousness came flooding back, but he fiercely tried to quash it — he wasn’t sure what Hua Cheng was going to do, but he knew that his love would never do anything that hurt him.

But it was difficult to convince his body. Xie Lian had spent five hundred years suppressing the lusts of his body, to the point where they might as well not have existed at all. The touch of another’s hand on his intimate regions was enough to make his body twist and jerk, trying to avoid the feeling of Hua Cheng’s fingers, even though his mind was telling it to stay still.

But Hua Cheng was patient, and as he worked, his free hand gently rubbed circles on Xie Lian’s hip. It was strangely soothing, silently reminding Xie Lian that the man touching him loved him more than anything. He breathed and closed his eyes, and his hand reached down to clasp over Hua Cheng’s on his hip.

“Gege…”

He opened his eyes to see Hua Cheng above him, his raven hair falling around his pale face, his one eye alight with the fiercest, burning love — no, with something even deeper and more powerful than mere love. With the deepest worship of a believer to his god.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian breathed.

Chapter Text

Their lovemaking lasted for hours — perhaps days, Xie Lian wasn’t sure — an eternity of whispers and touches, their intertwined bodies moving together as if they had been born for this.

Xie Lian had never experienced anything like it in his life — not even his first ascension had been this astonishing. Every movement of Hua Cheng inside him sent pleasure arcing up his spine like lightning, rippling through every muscle in his body. Sweat slicked his flushed skin, harsh ragged breaths tore from his chest, and his dark eyes were luminous mirrors as he looked up at the ghost king between his legs.

Hua Cheng was watching him as if drinking in every second of Xie Lian’s pleasure and ecstasy. His hand was tightly clasped in Xie Lian’s, their fingers interlocking, and he kept bending down to kiss his beloved’s stomach, his chest, his throat. Each kiss was like a bloom of fire on Xie Lian’s skin, making him tremble. Occasionally Hua Cheng would bite him lightly — on his shoulder, teasing one of his nipples until Xie Lian cried out.

There had been some pain. Xie Lian had known there might be, from Hua Cheng’s previous warnings. His brows furrowed as it began, his body unused to the sudden intrusion, and a tear or two pricked the corners of his eyes. Occasionally he would close his eyes and wince when Hua Cheng was a little too forceful. Fortunately, it faded as the night unwound, and before long Xie Lian had all but forgotten his discomfort.

“Does it hurt, gege?” Hua Cheng asked him hoarsely. “Should I stop?”

“Don’t stop!” Xie Lian cried out, clutching at his lover’s hand. “Keep — keep going!”

“If it hurts—“

“Please don’t stop! I want — please, San Lang —”

Xie Lian’s broken pleas ceased as Hua Cheng leaned closer to him, resting his cool forehead against Xie Lian’s warm one. “Whatever you wish, your highness,” he whispered.

Despite the title, there was a warm intimacy to the words that thrilled Xie Lian’s very heart — as if Hua Cheng had poured his very soul into vowing that Xie Lian would have whatever he wanted. He slipped his long legs around Hua Cheng's waist, as if he could keep his lover from withdrawing out of fear of hurting him. He saw a fierce joy flood into Hua Cheng’s eye, that his god was clinging to him with such passion, begging for Hua Cheng to make love to him.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian breathed. He couldn't think of anything else to say — just the name of his beloved, like a prayer he couldn’t stop saying.

His orgasm struck him with the violence of a thunderclap — he shuddered almost painfully, and a cry tore itself from his throat. His fingers dug into the flesh of Hua Cheng’s hand, and the room seemed to swim around him as if the world itself was quivering with him. And as his body convulsed with pleasure, he could feel Hua Cheng trembling against him, his other hand gripping Xie Lian’s hip hard enough to leave bruises.

“Gege,” the ghost whispered against his throat, his voice strained.

When Xie Lian slowly returned to his senses, he found that he was lying bonelessly against Hua Cheng, the ghost king’s arm holding him close and gently stroking his side with one hand. He was also wiping something from his taut abdomen with a soft cloth, and smiling at Xie Lian with a wicked smile on his face.

“Gege enjoyed himself, I see,” he murmured silkily.

It took a moment for Xie Lian to realize what Hua Cheng was saying to him. Then a wave of almost palpable embarrassment swept over him, and he desperately pressed his free hand to hide his face. “San Lang — I didn’t mean to —“

He felt long, thin fingers gently prying his own hand from his face. “Don’t hide from me, gege,” Hua Cheng whispered, all mischievousness gone. “Please, look at me.”

Despite the heat in his cheeks, Xie Lian did as his love asked. They had never been closer than they were now, and he didn’t want anything to come between them. Hua Cheng threw the cloth to the floor, and gathered Xie Lian in his arms, looking slightly worried. His eye was fixed on Xie Lian’s face, studying every hint of expression that his god showed.

Xie Lian gazed up at him with limpid eyes. Now that his mind had cleared, he was acutely aware that this was a moment that Hua Cheng’s entire existence had hinged on — knowing whether he had satisfied his god, after five hundred years of longing. He would be devastated if he thought that he hadn’t done well enough for Xie Lian, even with the prince assuring him that they would have forever in which to explore each other, learn from each other, love each other.

With the utmost care, Xie Lian raised a hand to caress Hua Cheng’s face, his fingers sliding through the ghost king’s long raven hair, before moving along his cheekbone and down to his parted lips. “I would never have known,” he said quietly, “that that was San Lang’s first time making love. I can’t imagine someone being better.”

Hua Cheng gazed at him for a moment longer, his eye shining in the faint light. Then his arms tightened around Xie Lian, crushing the prince against his chest. Xie Lian could hardly breathe, but he would rather have passed out from suffocation than leave Hua Cheng’s embrace in this moment. He slipped an arm behind the ghost king’s neck, arching his back slightly as his body molded itself against Hua Cheng’s.

“That was all I wanted for you, gege,” Hua Cheng said quietly. “I only wanted to please you.”

“You did, San Lang,” Xie Lian whispered. “It was more than I ever dreamed. Not just — not just because it felt good. It was because it was you with me. I would never have chosen this with anyone but you.”

Hua Cheng’s hands trembled again against Xie Lian’s skin, but his eye was shining like a star. “Gege honors me,” he said at last. He sounded like he was on the edge of tears.

“I’m the one who is honored,” Xie Lian replied gently.

But then Hua Cheng shifted, his hair slipping over his shoulder like a curtain of black silk. “And… your cultivation?” he said in a low voice.

Xie Lian closed his eyes. “It’s disappearing,” he said quietly. “It began to fade away when you… when we…” He sighed. “It’s… almost gone now.”

Hua Cheng closed his eye, but before he could speak, Xie Lian’s hand rose to stroke his hair. “Don’t be upset, San Lang,” he said fondly. “Remember, I knew this would happen, and I still chose it.” His lips curved into a soft smile, as he drew Hua Cheng down towards him. “If I had the choice again, I would still choose you.”

Hua Cheng’s eye opened again, now roiling with darkness, as if he were about to go to battle. “Everything you lost,” he said passionately, “I’ll give back to you, gege. Everything.”

“I don’t think even you could bring it back, San Lang,” Xie Lian said gently. “Even if you could, it would just be destroyed again. Sometimes — sometime sacrifices have to be made.”

He felt his heart swelling as Hua Cheng began to kiss his throat and chest again, his lean body pressing down on Xie Lian’s. Hua Cheng was heavy — unexpectedly so, considering that he was a ghost — but Xie Lian found that he welcomed the weight. He wanted to feel Hua Cheng on him, in him, filling him and surrounding him in every way, touching him in all the ways he had never allowed himself to be touched before.

He arched his back, pressing his sweat-dampened chest against Hua Cheng. “San Lang,” he whispered.

“Yes, gege?” Hua Cheng murmured, gazing up at him with that obsidian eye.

Xie Lian felt a blush coming over his cheeks, but he kept his eyes fixed on his beloved’s face. “If you don’t — don’t mind — I want you to —“ He couldn’t understand why, after what they had just done, he suddenly felt so shy.

Hua Cheng rollled off him and propped his head on his hand. “You can ask me to do anything,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll find a way to do it.”

“Will you — make love to me again?”

A wicked smile quirked the corners of Hua Cheng’s lips. “Gladly, gege.”

Chapter Text

Xie Lian was asleep.

The gods didn't need sleep, but the cursed shackles on his throat and ankle forced Xie Lian to experience some of the limitations of mortality. Every night, he slept in their bed, while Hua Cheng held him tenderly and carefully, keeping him close without disturbing his dreams.

The prince had been exhausted after the third time they had made love. Lying limp in Hua Cheng’s arms, he had still been asking for the ghost king to kiss him, even though he could barely keep his eyelids open. Hua Cheng had obeyed, kissing his god with the utmost gentleness and care, caressing Xie Lian’s swollen mouth with his tongue and lips until he was able to convince him to sleep.

Now his god lay beside him, his face peaceful and smooth, looking as bright and unworried as he had the day Hua Cheng had first made him. He was framed by blood red sheets and cushions that made his white skin and dark hair stand out even more vividly, as if he were a statue carved from jade. Except for the soft rise and fall of his chest, he was completely still. But the part of him that Hua Cheng couldn’t look away from was his lips. They were gently curved in a smile, even in sleep.

Hua Cheng couldn’t tear his eyes away from his prince — his god — even if he had wanted to. Ever since Xie Lian had fallen asleep, he had gazed at him, drinking in the sight.

A part of him couldn’t even fully believe what had just happened to him. He had spent five hundred years dreaming of this night, fantasizing about it, planning it. He had constructed this manor, this bedroom for the blessed night when Xie Lian would finally make love with him. He had studied erotica and pornography for most of his five hundred years, so he would know what to do to make his god writhe with pleasure.

But making love to Xie Lian had been even better than he had ever dreamed. Not just the physical pleasure that had surged through him, but the the sight of Xie Lian beneath him. His slender body glistening with sweat, his bare chest heaving as he panted, his eyes wide and glimmering, and the moans as Hua Cheng pushed deeper into him.

And Hua Cheng was the one who had done that to him.

Even then, he had still felt apprehension after they had reached their climaxes, wanting to know if Xie Lian still felt that making love with Hua Cheng had been worth the loss. But his god had given him that dazzling smile, his eyes shining like stars. He looked happier than Hua Cheng had ever seen him.

Xie Lian murmured something, and shifted against the crimson sheets. His slender fingers grasped at the silk, as if he were searching for something. His brow crinkled.

Without hesitation, Hua Cheng slid his hand under Xie Lian’s, and interlinked their fingers. “Gege,” he whispered.

Immediately Xie Lian’s fingers closed over Hua Cheng’s, with a strength that strangers would never have guessed he possessed. His brow smoothed out, as the smile returned to his lips.

Hua Cheng slid closer, carefully winding his other arm around Xie Lian without disturbing his god’s sleep. If touching him helped Xie Lian to sleep, he wouldn’t move for however long the prince chose to sleep.

Of course, it was no punishment. Despite the hard life he had led, Xie Lian’s skin was soft and smooth, his thick hair smelled faintly of the flowers they had made love on, and his body seemed to fit perfectly against Hua Cheng’s whenever they lay alongside one another. As Hua Cheng pulled him close, one of Xie Lian's arms slipped around his lover’s shoulders, and he murmured something again as he nestled close.

Hua Cheng looked down at Xie Lian’s sleeping face, his heart in his throat. There was a new feeling that he had never felt before, welling up inside him like a spring in the desert. He had loved Xie Lian for five hundred years, ever since he had been a scrawny little brat.

But he had never known what it was like to have someone else love him.

His parents had hated him since his birth, because of his cursed eye — he was honestly surprised they hadn’t smothered or drowned him when he was a helpless infant. Cruelty was all he had known, whether from his family or from the strangers who had seen a vulnerable child that no one would defend. Even after he had torn his way from Mt. Tonglu, he had inspired fear alone. The ghosts who swarmed through Ghost City might adore their Chengzhu, but they could never love him.

Only Xie Lian had loved him. Only Xie Lian. Even knowing that Hua Cheng always had been — and always would be — willing to give him anything, he had sacrificed what little he had to make Hua Cheng happy.

As if sensing his thoughts, Xie Lian stirred against him, his long lashes tickling the skin of Hua Cheng’s cheek. “San Lang,” he whispered.

“I’m here, gege,” Hua Cheng said.

Xie Lian blinked at him, then looked down at their naked bodies under the sheet, so closely entwined that they might as well still be joined. A strange expression crossed his face. "So it really happened,” he breathed.

A stab of fear went through Hua Cheng’s heart. Was Xie Lian regretting what he had done? His fingers tightened around Xie Lian’s shoulders, as if afraid that the god would spring up from the bed and flee.

But the fear was stifled as Xie Lian snuggled back against Hua Cheng, smiling lazily. “I was afraid… it had all been just a dream,” he said softly.

Relieved, Hua Cheng pressed a fervent kiss to his forehead. “No. It wasn't a dream. If it was, I would never want to wake from it.”

They lay quietly together for a moment, Hua Cheng enjoying the sensation of Xie Lian shyly rubbing against him. His beloved god might no longer be a virgin, but he was still mostly innocent of the pleasures of the flesh. As far as Hua Cheng could tell, Xie Lian had no idea how much his every movement tempted his most devoted believer — and he probably didn’t realize that Hua Cheng was considering pressing him back into the bed and driving into him again.

But then the prince raised his face to Hua Cheng’s, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “San Lang, I… I wanted to ask you something.”

“Anything, gege.”

“You — you know a great deal about lovemaking, don’t you?”

“Everything I could learn without being unfaithful to your highness.”

Xie Lian looked confused. “But we weren’t together then.”

“I would consider it a betrayal of gege,” Hua Cheng said seriously, “to share anyone’s bed but his.”

Xie Lian’s blush deepened.

Hua Cheng inclined his head slightly, his dark eye watching Xie Lian’s face. He wasn’t sure what questions Xie Lian would know to ask — unless Hua Cheng had done something to displease him. “What do you want to know?” he asked quietly.

“I — I want you to — to teach me,” Xie Lian said hesitantly.

“Teach you?”

“Teach me what to do,” Xie Lian said, the words now flowing from him in a rush. “Tell me what to do. I — I don’t know what to do to — to make it feel good for you. Before last night, I didn’t even know how two men made love, so I… didn’t really know what would make it better. I just lay there last night, not doing anything, and I — I want you to feel as good as you made me feel. Or even better.”

It was the most charming thing that Hua Cheng had ever heard, and for a moment he marveled at Xie Lian’s humility. He was a prince, a god, the most perfect creature that Hua Cheng had ever seen, beautiful and skilled and intelligent — and yet he was worried that he wasn’t good enough in bed. As if Hua Cheng could ever be disappointed in anything he did.

“Gege,” he said, tracing his thumb along the contours of Xie Lian’s face, “you don’t need to worry. I enjoyed last night — more than you can know. All gege needs to do is be there.”

“I know that San Lang feels that way,” Xie Lian protested. He rolled on top of Hua Cheng, his eyes eager and earnest, his unbound hair flowing down onto Hua Cheng’s chest. “But I… it would make me happier if I knew that I was able to give him the best that I could. If San Lang would tell me what he would like me to do, then I—”

Hua Cheng cut him off with a kiss, gentle and slow, but slowly growing fiercer as the minutes passed. Xie Lian leaned into it, his tongue twining around Hua Cheng’s, his arms wrapping around his lover’s neck. Hua Cheng’s hands glided down Xie Lian’s body, caressing every hollow and swell, and all he could think of was how lucky he was that Xie Lian was with him — and that Hua Cheng was the only one he wanted.

When they finally parted, Hua Cheng gazed up at him, his fingers caressing Xie Lian’s cheek as he gazed into those beautiful eyes. “If that is truly what you want, gege… then I will teach you everything you want to know.” A wicked smile crossed his lips. “Especially if you blush so prettily when I tell you…”

“San Lang!” Xie Lian said, half-laughing.

They were both laughing as Hua Cheng pulled him down into another kiss.

Chapter Text

“I feel like an idiot,” Feng Xin said.

“That’s because you are one,” Mu Qing said.

Feng Xin cast a blistering look at the other martial god, and wondered if it was too late for him to back out. He had actually liked the clone body he had worn before, which had looked like a fairly handsome, professional young man from Middle Heaven. He had been one before — back during Xie Lian’s first stint as a god — so he knew how to act and look.

But this disguise… for some reason, Mu Qing had decided that Feng Xin should appear as a ghastly, emaciated ghost woman dressed all in tattered rags. At least Mu Qing’s disguise was equally repulsive — he had taken the form of a rather ugly, bowlegged ghost man covered in streams of vivid blood from a head wound, with a rusty cleaver still lodged in it.

“He won’t expect us to look like this,” Mu Qing said firmly. “Even if he saw us, Hua Cheng wouldn’t realize it was us.”

“I am NOT confident,” Feng Xin retorted. “He’ll be on the alert after what happened a few days ago, which means anybody who seems suspicious will probably get impaled and hung up at the gates of Ghost City.” He surveyed his gangling arms with distaste. “Besides, both of us have the spiritual energy of Heavenly Officials. Anyone who gets a whiff of us will know we’re not ghosts.”

Mu Qing emotionlessly produced a small oiled-paper bag from his bloodstained robes.

“What’s that?” Feng Xin said.

“It’s a kind of candy they sell in Ghost City,” Mu Qing said, extracting a round black object from it. “You eat it, and it gives you ghost qi for a while.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?”

Mu Qing’s lips tightened. “No, I’m not. If you don’t want to eat it, you can take your chances.”

Feng Xin fantasized briefly about stuffing the entire bag down Mu Qing’s throat. He still wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t want to simply go home to his newly-rebuilt palace and forget this entire mission. The previous one had been so disastrously bad that he was embarrassed to even think that he had been involved, even if its failure had been Mu Qing's fault. The fact that they had also earned Hua Cheng’s ire — after a grudge spanning centuries — made the whole thing even worse.

What was more, Feng Xin was starting to think that Xie Lian might not need to be rescued. He couldn’t be sure, especially not without talking to Xie Lian, which would be difficult to manage with Hua Cheng lurking around. But the way Xie Lian acted around Hua Cheng, and the way Hua Cheng acted around Xie Lian… well, it was strange. It was like Hua Cheng simply made an exception in every way for Xie Lian.

All Feng Xin could remember was the way Hua Cheng had gently and courteously helped Xie Lian out of the step-litter, as if the prince were a precious treasure he was loath to part from. And then Xie Lian’s smile, bright as the sun, as he gazed at Hua Cheng — and while Feng Xin hadn’t seen the ghost king’s face, Hua Cheng had stood there for a moment after that, as if he were soaking in the light radiating from the god.

And what made Feng Xin doubt it even more was that Xie Lian was now a god of love. He had ascended because he loved Hua Cheng — that much was obvious. Would he have ascended if that love hadn’t been reciprocated? Feng Xin didn’t know. He had spent three days racking his brains, trying desperately to figure out the right thing to do… and he still didn’t know.

“Remember what I said before,” Feng Xin said fiercely. “We’re just going to tell him about Hua Cheng and that coral pearl. If he wants to get away after that, we help him. If he doesn’t care—”

Mu Qing scowled. “He’ll care. He’d have to be an idiot not to.”

“He doesn’t seem to care about anything else Hua Cheng has done, so he might just shrug it off.”

Mu Qing's scowl intensified. “Do you want this candy or not?”

Feng Xin took a piece of the candy, but slipped it into his tattered robe rather than eating it. If someone started to notice anything odd about him, he would swallow the candy — but only as a last resort.

They journeyed back to Ghost City in much the same way they had before, descending into the twilight places between the mortal realm and the ghost realm. When they arrived at the city gates, Feng Xin felt dread sinking into his stomach at the sight -- if anything, the streets were swarming with even more ghosts, and he could see imposing masked figures drifting through the crowds, silent sentinels watching everyone.

Feng Xin sidled over to a nearby ghost, trying to hunch over and look as unpleasant as possible. “What’s going on?” he asked, making his voice hoarse.

“You didn’t hear?” the ghost asked. He was a bloated, squeaky-voiced creature with shiny red skin.

“I just got here a few minutes ago. I’m not up on the latest news,” Feng Xin said.

He had the horrible feeling that the ghosts patrolling the area were set there by Hua Cheng, and that he was on the lookout for any Heavenly Officials who tried to get near his lover... except that Xie Lian had come up to Heaven without any interference from Hua Cheng.

The ghost’s eyes bulged horribly as he leaned closer, a toothy smile spreading across his round face. “Ohhhhh, so you haven’t heard. There have been two different attacks on Chengzhu in the last week. One was an intruder at the Gambler’s Den — it was almost leveled, but it’s been rebuilt now. The other was just a message, but Chengzhu was in a fury over it.”

“Message?”

“They say it’s from Qi Rong—“ The ghost sneered and spat on the ground. “Chengzhu will grind him into the dust and scatter his ashes by the time he’s done, mark my words.”

“What was the message?”

The ghost’s eyes bulged even further, and he quickly glanced around to see if anyone nearby could hear him. “‘Dog-fucked Xie Lian,’” he whispered.

Feng Xin recoiled as if the ghost had vomited on his robes. He had heard some vile things said about Xie Lian in his lifetime, but most of those "people" managed to be respectful enough to not suggest that he had been fucked by a dog.

“That little bastard insulted both Chengzhu and his consort!” the ghost said with a mixture of loathing and relish, clearly enjoying spreading the scandalous news. “According to rumor, Chengzhu didn’t seem to care about being called a dog by Qi Rong — he was just angry and upset because his lover had been insulted. Xie-daozhang was just coming back to the city, and Chengzhu immediately whisked him away. Nobody’s seen them since!”

Feng Xin’s head was spinning as he told Mu Qing what the ghost had told him, and even though he hadn’t served Xie Lian for five hundred years, he almost choked on the words “dog-fucked Xie Lian.” He swore whenever he got upset, but Feng Xin had limits — he almost felt like he should apologize to Xie Lian just for repeating that disgusting phrase.

“Dog… fucked…” Mu Qing said slowly, his brow furrowing. “Xie Lian…”

“What?”

“It sounds familiar. The message was from Qi Rong, he said?”

“Yeah, he said the message…” Feng Xin trailed off, his eyes widening. “Wait, you don’t think…”

“It’s the same name.”

“It's a coincidence,” Feng Xin said. “Everybody knows ghosts don’t keep their original names — and one of the Four Calamities, even the dumbest of them, wouldn’t be stupid enough to keep his original name like that. He’s just someone who thought the name sounded impressive and chose it as a title.”

Mu Qing didn’t seem to hear him. He tapped his finger against his chin, an unexpectedly delicate gesture for someone who appeared to have a bloody cleaver embedded in his skull. “But if it’s someone completely different, then… why would he have a grudge against the prince?” he said slowly.

Feng Xin opened his mouth to answer, but found he didn’t have anything to say. Mu Qing had made a point — there wasn’t really a reason for the Green Ghost to have a grudge against Xie Lian, to the point of deliberately antagonizing Hua Cheng. Only idiots would do that… like the two idiots, Feng Xin reflected bitterly, who were sneaking into Ghost City for the second time. Qi Rong… it coldn’t possibly be… could it?…

“That’s him!” Mu Qing said suddenly.

“Him who?”

“The prince, idiot!” Mu Qing snapped. “I saw him go past that alley! Come on!”

He seized Feng Xin’s arm and half-dragged him down the street, past swarms of ghosts and swaying lanterns that lit the misty air. Feng Xin caught a glimpse of a slender young man walking ahead of them, wrapped in a heavy cloak, moving so swiftly that they needed to run to keep up.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng was usually attentive to Xie Lian in the morning, hugging and kissing him as the god slowly drifted to wakefulness. But this morning, he was even more affectionate than usual — after peppering Xie Lian’s chest and throat with more kisses, he brought Xie Lian a tray with a bowl of snow-white congee dusted with minced pork.

“You need your energy after last night,” he said teasingly as he set it over Xie Lian’s thighs.

As Xie Lian sat up, he winced slightly. A dull throb had come from his backside, a silent reminder of everything they had done the night before. Pain didn’t usually bother Xie Lian — he had experienced so many physical pains and wounds over the centuries that small things didn’t phase him any longer. But for some reason, this particular pain made him flinch and press a hand against his lower back.

“Gege?” Hua Cheng asked, eye wide. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Xie Lian said quickly. “I’m just a little… sore.” He smiled ruefully. “It isn’t your fault, San Lang — it was the first time, and my body was a little… reluctant at first.”

Five hundred years of pushing away physical pleasure had taken some time for Xie Lian to overcome the night before. When Hua Cheng had first entered him, his body had tensed and twisted without him meaning for it to. Hua Cheng had stopped immediately, his face strained and his eye wide, as Xie Lian let out a faint exclamation of surprise. It had taken a few long minutes of the ghost king stroking and soothing him before Xie Lian could force himself to relax.

Fortunately, Xie Lian’s determination and Hua Cheng’s care had eventually worked past his hesitance, and the rest of the night had been better than Xie Lian could have ever imagined. He felt somehow… more whole. It was as if making love with Hua Cheng had completed something inside him — as if their souls, and not just their bodies, had joined together.

“I’m sorry, gege,” Hua Cheng said quietly. “I tried not to hurt you, but—“

Xie Lian quickly planted a kiss on his lips, and gently brushed his hand through Hua Cheng’s raven hair. “I have nothing to complain about, San Lang,” he said warmly. “It’s just a small thing. I should be back to normal in another day or two…”

Hua Cheng gazed at him a moment longer, then smiled. “I have other ways to take care of you tonight, gege.” He leaned in to lightly touch his mouth to Xie Lian’s, and the tip of his tongue lightly swiped over Xie Lian’s upper lip.

Xie Lian’s heart thumped a little harder at what he suspected Hua Cheng meant. Trying to hide his blush, he shifted the tray in his lap closer, and began eating the congee, reclining against the headboard of their bed. The diaphanous red bed curtains brushed against his hair and shoulders, casting shimmering crimson shadows on his pale skin. He raised a spoonful of the white congee to his lips, swallowed it, and then frowned at Hua Cheng.

“Why aren’t you eating, San Lang?” He asked.

The ghost king smiled. “I’m not hungry for food right now.”

Hua Cheng stretched himself out on the bed, still completely nude. His snow white skin looked even more brilliant against the blood-colored sheets, and every line of his body was smooth and strong — the lean muscles of his arms and long legs, the flat expanse of his abdomen, the finely-sculpted chest, the elegant throat. His eye gleamed like a piece of polished obsidian, and his finely-shaped lips were curved upwards. He looked, Xie Lian thought, like he was putting himself on display to attract his god’s attention.

Xie Lian hadn’t even realized how distracted he was until the spoon almost slipped from his fingers. He quickly ate the last of the congee, then set the wooden tray aside so he could lie down next to the beautiful man beside him.

“Are you trying to get my attention, San Lang?” he whispered.

“A god of love needs some inspiration,” Hua Cheng almost purred.

But his playful expression changed to something more serious, and one of his hands slipped over Xie Lian’s rib cage. “Gege… there’s something I was wondering.”

“What is it?”

“Your cultivation… it’s gone now.”

Xie Lian sighed. “Yes. Completely.”

Hua Cheng had poured spiritual energy into him as they made love the night before, and even now he could feel it, a warm ethereal presence drifting through his body. It covered the worst of the loss, but he could still feel it — there was a strange hollow feeling inside him, as if someone had reached into his body and scooped out something vital.

“Is there a chance you could… cultivate some other way? Aren’t there other ways that don’t have the same… restrictions?”

Xie Lian rested his head against Hua Cheng’s shoulder, his eyes tracing the ceiling as he thought. He hadn’t really given any thought to any other path of cultivation — he had following his chosen one for hundreds of years, and had dedicated himself to it, body and soul. When he had decided to abandon it, then in his mind, it was simply the end.

But he supposed that others must have been in the same situation he was in — cultivating in purity, and then falling in love with someone and abandoning that path. He knew that some of the younger disciples at Mount Taicang hadn’t been able to follow it for long. Their urges had become too strong, or they had met someone they loved, and they had left. Xie Lian had shrugged at their choices at the time — cultivation had been his life, and this kind of cultivation had demanded a great deal, which wasn’t for everyone.

“I suppose I could try,” Xie Lian said contemplatively, interweaving his fingers with Hua Cheng's. “I’ve — never heard of someone who BEGAN cultivating after they became a god.”

“I’ve never heard of a martial god who became a god of love,” Hua Cheng countered. “Or a god who rejected his divinity because of a lowly follower. Or a god who ascended three times.” His hand slipped around Xie Lian’s waist, gently pulling him close. “And I’ve never heard of another prince who defied Heaven for the sake of a dirty little brat, or defended that child when others wanted to cast him out. Gege has never done the expected things, even before he was a god.”

“You make it sound like I could do anything,” Xie Lian said ruefully.

Hua Cheng’s fingers gently curved over his. His eye had softened as he gazed at his god, but now it filled with a fervor that took Xie Lian’s breath away. “I believe in you,” he said quietly. “And if gege chooses to cultivate again, I will do whatever he needs to help him.”

Xie Lian was about to answer when he heard a strange noise — a metallic rattling from somewhere in the bedroom. Hua Cheng’s eye widened, and he sat up abruptly, swinging his legs off the bed.

It was only when he lifted something silver from the floor that Xie Lian realized where the sound was coming from. E’ming was shaking violently from where it had been left near their bed — so violently that Hua Cheng’s entire body was shivering. The crimson eye had deepened in hue, and seemed to be blazing with an inner fire as it spun to one side and darted up and down. Xie Lian had only seen it behave like that a few times.

Hua Cheng muttered something under his breath, and in the blink of an eye he was fully clothed again and E’ming back on his belt.

“What’s wrong?” Xie Lian asked.

“Intruders,” Hua Cheng said grimly.

Xie Lian threw aside the covers, and scrambled out of bed. “I’ll be dressed in just a minute.”

“You don’t—“

“I’m coming with you, San Lang!”

Hua Cheng hadn’t said who the intruders were, but Xie Lian had the sinking feeling that it was Feng Xin and Mu Qing again. If it was them, then Xie Lian wanted to be able to intervene before his former friends and his lover came to blows.

Chapter Text

The cloaked prince was moving swiftly, so swiftly that even with their powers and strength, Feng Xin and Mu Qing were having difficulty keeping up with him. Whatever he had been doing for five hundred years, it must have made him pretty strong and fast for someone wearing a cursed shackle. As the figure darted around a corner, his hood fluttered back from the lower half of his face, and Feng Xin caught a brief glimpse. It certainly looked like Xie Lian.

But there was something about this entire situation that made Feng Xin uneasy. What was Xie Lian doing rushing around Ghost City by himself, with no sign of Hua Cheng? Where was he going?

“Keep an eye out for Crimson Rain Sought Flower!” Mu Qing said breathlessly.

Xie Lian turned a corner sharply, his cloak flaring out behind him. Feng Xin noticed that the prince wasn’t dressed in white as he had done before. The light was too dim for him to see clearly what color it was, but it was definitely not white or black. Maybe brown, or green, or blue — but definitely not the elegant white robes he had worn a few days before.

The feeling that something was wrong intensified. Feng Xin began to wonder if the person ahead of them was disguised as Xie Lian — after all, clones and false skins could look however the user wanted. There was no reason they couldn’t look exactly like a specific person. The question was, why would someone want to impersonate Xie Lian, especially if it might attract the attention of the ghost who ruled the entire city? A person would have to be pretty stupid to impersonate the lover of the city’s Chengzhu…

Pretty stupid… wait…

The person ahead of them moved across a crowded street, kicking aside the smaller ghosts who were in its path — even knocking aside an entire stall stocked with dried fingers.

Feng Xin grimaced. That confirmed it. Xie Lian wasn’t the kind of person who would act that way. Yes, it had been five hundred years since they had spent any real time around him, but some things hadn’t changed, from the glimpses they had seen of him. Except where Hua Cheng was concerned, he was very polite.

“That’s not the prince,” Mu Qing said, before Feng Xin could say anything.

“Yeah,” Feng Xin replied grimly. “I don’t know who it is, but—“

Just then, the figure passed under a lantern that cast a deathly pale glow over it. For a split second, Feng Xin saw the color of the imposter’s clothing.

It was green.

“Qi Rong,” Mu Qing muttered. “I knew he was stupid, but impersonating the prince—”

“Like being here at all wouldn’t make Hua Cheng want to kill him,” Feng Xin said.

As if hearing them, the figure slowed as he approached an alley, and slowly turned his head. “Who the fuck are you little shitheads?” a harsh voice snarled. “Don’t you know who I am?”

Feng Xin felt as if he had been punched in the face. That voice — the snarled crudities — the arrogance — all of it tore old memories back to the surface from long ago, from his youth in Xianle.

As if he needed more proof, Qi Rong slowly turned around and glared at them, his deathly-pale face lit by the lanterns dancing in the wind over their heads. It was a face that was eerily familiar to both gods — it had a strong resemblance to Xie Lian’s, enough that they could have been mistaken for each other if someone wasn’t looking carefully. The mouth, the chin, the nose were all so similar that they might have come from twins. But the sharp brows and cold, piercing eyes were unmistably those of the crown prince’s obnoxious little shit of a cousin. He hadn’t been impersonating Xie Lian — he was just stupid enough to walk around with his real face on display.

Feng Xin had stopped paying attention to Qi Rong after Xianle had been replaced by Yong’an — after turning on his cousin and leading mobs to torch the Crown Prince’s temples, the nasty little royal had just disappeared one day. Feng Xin had had more important things to deal with, like surviving day-to-day and supporting the fallen royal family, and hadn’t really thought about it further. And when he ascended, he had his own problems to deal with.

Apparently Qi Rong had died, and been reborn as a ghost. A ghost who was too stupid to not use his real name and face when he ran amuck in another, more powerful ghost’s territory. A ghost who ate human flesh and hung corpses from trees to rain blood on the unwary below.

It also explained why he had left the “dog-fucked Xie Lian” message. Qi Rong had worshiped his cousin even before Xie Lian ascended — he had violently assaulted anyone he saw an an affront to his cousin’s glory. But when Xie Lian hadn’t been able to live up to Qi Rong’s expectations, when the crown prince had failed as a god… Qi Rong’s fanatical adoration had turned to a sneering hatred and disdain.

Somehow, Feng Xin felt as if he were surprised, and yet not surprised at all. He knew he shouldn’t be. If anyone was going to be reborn as a crude, nasty, vindictive, vicious little ghost, it was the little brat whom Feng Xin had spent his youth wanting to beat the hell out of.

“Him?” Mu Qing said incredulously, before turning to Feng Xin with a smirk. “It looks like you got it wrong!”

“I know that!” Feng Xin retorted. “I had no idea he was that stupid!”

“Who’s stupid, you fuckwits?” Qi Rong bellowed.

“Shut up!” Feng Xin shouted back. “Shut your fucking mouth or I swear I’ll nail it shut, you useless little bastard!”

“HOW DARE YOU TALK TO THIS ANCESTOR LIKE THAT!”

“THAT’S IT! I’M BREAKING YOUR FUCKING JAW!”

Rage flooded through Feng Xin’s brain like a torrent of lava, especially when a sneering grin spread across Qi Rong’s face. He lunged forward with one fist raised, and quickly dodged a wild swipe by Qi Rong — the little idiot had never known how to fight, unlike Xie Lian, so he didn’t know how to hit someone effectively. Or defend himself with any skill. He needed mobs, tricks or a helpless victim to be able to triumph.

In the blink of an eye, Feng Xin’s fist slammed into Qi Rong’s face, snapping the ghost’s head wildly to the side. As it happened, he felt hands gripping his shoulders and yanking him backwards. It was Mu Qing, and Feng Xin had no idea why he was holding him back from beating the shit out of Qi Rong. He despised Qi Rong as much as Feng Xin did, and always had.

Qi Rong's eyes bulged as he stared at Mu Qing. “You hit me!” he squawked. “You actually hit me! A shitty little Malice bitch like you!”

Feng Xin was about to demand to know what he was talking about when he remembered — he was in the disguise of an ordinary ghost, and a woman at that. For a single insane moment, he considered dropping his disguise just so Qi Rong would know who was beating him to a pulp. Seeing the look on his face would be immensely satisfying.

“I’m a near-Supreme!” Qi Rong raged. “I’ll tear you to fucking shreds!”

“I’d like to see that! I could use a laugh!” Feng Xin snarled.

He was about to tear himself out of Mu Qing’s grasp when he heard something. The sounds of the busy street outside seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of metallic clinking, like bells in the dark.

Feng Xin’s eyes widened as a towering figure seemed to appear out of nowhere, looming behind Qi Rong. There was a flash of crimson and silver, the sight of a black eyepatch against pale skin, and a killing aura that filled the air like a blast of winter wind. Hua Cheng had arrived — and everything was about to go to hell.

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng didn’t like people. Old or young, rich or poor, male or female. He had seen too much of their cruelty, their callousness, their selfishness, and their fickleness — even if someone seemed kind outwardly, he knew there was rottenness inside the fruit. Not just in their treatment of him, during his brief stint as a living human, but in how they had treated his beloved. As soon as their lives, comforts or security were threatened, they turned on Xie Lian like a pack of hungry wolves.

The only person he actually liked was Xie Lian. His beautiful prince was all he needed, all he wanted.

But on the other hand, his hate for Qi Rong had only grown stronger over five hundred years. They had first encountered each other when Hua Cheng was only a scrawny, starved ten-year-old, and Qi Rong had nearly killed him by dragging him behind a carriage. After Xie Lian had rescued Hua Cheng from his cousin’s murder attempt, the enraged Qi Rong had tried to whip Hua Cheng — while Xie Lian was holding him tightly against his body. If Feng Xin hadn’t stopped Qi Rong by breaking his arm, Xie Lian would have likely been lashed across the face by Qi Rong's whip.

And when Xianle fell, Hua Cheng had watched helplessly as Qi Rong had led mobs of angry ex-worshippers through the streets. Looting, burning and defacing Xie Lian’s temples, and replacing statues of glory and worship with ones where he groveled in misery, so others could spit on him and step on his back. Hua Cheng had been only a boy at the time, and the defilement of those temples and statues had been more than he could ever hope to stop. It had filled him with helpless fury and confusion — the idea of turning against the one he worshiped, that love turning to hate, was something he simply couldn’t comprehend.

He slipped up behind Qi Rong like a cold wind, without a sound or a sign of warning, and his hand clamped on the green ghost’s head.

“What the fuck?!” Qi Rong squawked.

His head slammed into the street, and chips of shattered rock flew in every direction as it smashed through the dirt and stones. Blood spattered across the ground, but Hua Cheng yanked his head up and smashed it down again, even harder this time. Qi Rong’s elbow flew up and jabbed into his abdomen, but Hua Cheng just grimaced and kept smashing until the green ghost’s body went limp.

“Hahahahaha,” Qi Rong tittered, muffled by the pulverized stone. “AHAHAHAHAHA! THAT’S RIGHT, DOG!”

Hua Cheng grimaced. The sound of that irritating Wrath’s voice was like an annoying, slow-moving tickle moving across his skin. None of this would kill Qi Rong permanently, no matter what Hua Cheng did. The green ghost’s ashes were artfully hidden from everyone — Hua Cheng knew, because he had tried to find them before — and he went everywhere in clone bodies that he could easily escape when they were killed.

That just meant that Hua Cheng had had the pleasure of killing him many, many times. And it was definitely a pleasure.

He slowly let go of Qi Rong’s smashed head, leaving him prone on the ground, and slowly looked up at the alley in front of him. Two minor ghosts were lurking there — an emaciated, ghastly woman and a blood-smeared man with a cleaver through his head. Hua Cheng had heard one of them bellowing insults at Qi Rong, and he was fairly sure the other one had seen him coming and had restrained his friend.

Then he felt a hand lightly fall on his forearm, clasped over his silver vambrace. “San Lang,” a quiet voice said. “It’s all right.”

Hua Cheng turned to Xie Lian like a flower turning towards the sun, as his god gently placed his other hand on Hua Cheng’s cheek. His luminous face was alight with concern — not for Qi Rong, but for him. He started to smile, to reassure his lover that nothing was wrong…

“He brought his highness?!” the starved woman said disbelievingly.

… and Hua Cheng froze. Something was very wrong.

The ghosts of the city didn’t know much about the man that their Chengzhu was in love with, or his long tumultuous past. They had discerned that he was a cultivator, and affectionately referred to him as Xie-daozhang, but they knew little more than that. They didn’t know he was a god yet. And they didn’t know he was a prince.

He slowly turned around, to face the two ghosts who were still crouched along the alley, watching him warily. Ordinary Malices, the lowest form of ghosts. Weak. Not very dangerous. Completely non-threatening to even a Wrath like Qi Rong — let alone a Supreme like himself, whose power was greater than many gods. And yet… one of them had been fearlessly screaming obscenities and threats against Qi Rong, and had even punched him in the face with one bony fist.

Hua Cheng knew from experience that lesser ghosts tended to shrivel when he looked at them. They sensed his power, and they knew what he could do to them if he chose. Yet both of them were staring at him defiantly. So if these two were unafraid of him… they weren’t Malices.

He lowered his head slightly, and one hand trailed up E’ming’s blade to its hilt. “Show yourselves,” he ordered icily.

“Sorry?” the cleaver-headed ghost said sarcastically.

“Take off your disguises before I rip them off.”

“San Lang…” Xie Lian said hesitantly, his fingers clutching Hua Cheng’s hand.

In an instant, the two ghosts were gone without a trace — and two black-clad, lightly-armored martial gods stood in their place. Their eyes were tense and wary, and though neither of them made a move for their spiritual weapons, both of them stood as if they were expecting Hua Cheng to lunge forward and attack them. He hadn't decided yet whether he would — it would serve them right for intruding on his territory a second time.

*

This situation was exactly what Xie Lian had been dreading.

There was no way that his lover wouldn’t be angry over Mu Qing and Feng Xin sneaking back into Ghost City, especially so soon after the disastrous first incursion. Due to some conversations a few months before, Xie Lian knew that Hua Cheng saw them both as traitors who had abandoned him in his time of need, for their own glory and godhood. Nothing he had been able to say had been able to change Hua Cheng’s mind. He hated them both.

And Xie Lian had known those ghosts were Mu Qing and Feng Xin as soon as he heard the woman speak. Their disguises might have been impeccable, but the two of them hadn’t been able to hide their lack of fear of both Qi Rong and Hua Cheng. Xie Lian had been hoping that Hua Cheng wouldn’t figure out who they were, but his lover was very intelligent.

He could feel the tension in the air, as taut as a bowstring — if either Hua Cheng or one of the two gods made a move, everything would erupt into violence. And this time, Mu Qing had his saber and Feng Xin had his bow. Together, they might be enough to fight Hua Cheng…

So Xie Lian did the first thing that had come to mind. He stepped over Qi Rong’s battered body, and placed himself in front of Hua Cheng. Then he smiled pleasantly, cupped his hands, and bowed to his two former servants.

“General Xuan Zhen, General Nan Yang,” he said in a pleasant voice. "Welcome to Ghost City. We're very honored by your presence.”

He couldn’t see Hua Cheng’s expression, but he could see Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s. Mu Qing looked as if someone had slapped him, while Feng Xin was staring at him with eyes as wide as they would go.

“What?” Feng Xin said faintly.

Xie Lian straightened up, keeping a pleasant expression on his face. “I’m very glad that both of you have come to visit us. I only wish that you had told us ahead of time, so San Lang and I could greet you properly.”

A faint, choked noise came from somewhere behind him. Hua Cheng was leaning against the nearest wall with one arm over his head, and had turned away from his lover. His shoulders quivered slightly. It took Xie Lian a moment to realized that he was laughing, and trying not to show it.

“Gege,” he said quietly, his eye shining as he looked at Xie Lian. “You're too much sometimes...."

Both Feng Xin and Mu Wing were staring at Hua Cheng now. Mu Qing looked incredulous, while Feng Xin looked almost lost. Xie Lian smiled as he tried to imagine what they were thinking — probably that they hadn’t expected the mighty, terrifying Crimson Rain Sought Flower to be laughing.

Then something clamped around his leg in an iron grip, and Xie Lian looked down at a pallid, green-tinged face smeared with blood — just before a thin, clawlike hand seized his throat and dragged him down.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian crashed to the cracked stone ground, hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. The hands around his throat was squeezing so tightly that he couldn’t make a sound — he could hear Hua Cheng bellowing from somewhere nearby, and strong hands clamped on Qi Rong’s wrists, pried at his fingers —

“Is it really you, Cousin Crown Prince?” Qi Rong hissed in his ear.

His wide, mad eyes stared into Xie Lian’s, before curling into happy crescents.

“It really is you,” he giggled. “Still a fucking disgrace after all this time! I wasn't surprised when I found out you were Hua Cheng’s whore — you’d ruined everything else, so why not let a dog fuck you?”

Xie Lian choked, drew up a knee, and slammed it into Qi Rong's stomach. He heard bones cracking and flesh squelching, but his cousin only laughed maniacally.

“Yes, that’s right! A pure white lotus like you, stained with Hua Cheng’s—“

Xie Lian drew back a fist and slammed it against Qi Rong’s chest. A loud cracking sound rang out, louder than Qi Rong’s voice, as if a heavy support beam had just been smashed. The green ghost’s laughter wheezed and creaked, but it didn’t stop.

“Always thinking you were so much better than the rest of us,” Qi Rong cackled, his eyes gleaming with insanity. His breath smelled like stale old blood. “Always so pure and noble. Now you’re reduced to sucking the dick of a useless lowly fucker like Hua Cheng! I wish I could see that — see you turned into nothing but a fucking cock-sleeve —“

A boot slammed into Qi Rong’s side, then stamped down with enough force to shatter the stone under his body. Out of the corner of one tear-filled eye, Xie Lian could see Mu Qing’s grim face, his dark eyes glinting with rage. Desperately, he punched at Qi Rong’s chest again, and was rewarded by the feeling of ribs collapsing — dark spots were dancing in the corners of his vision, threatening to plunge him into the darkness.

“I wonder how long before it happens again,” Qi Rong hissed, leaning closer. “How much longer before you ruin the lives of everyone around—“

His voice choked off — and suddenly something long and shimmering with golden light was sticking out of the side of his head. An arrow made out of spiritual energy.

Suddenly the pressure on Xie Lian’s throat was gone. He was left gasping and coughing as the hands were peeled away from his neck, and suddenly he was wrapped in Hua Cheng’s arms, his face buried in the ghost king’s hair. It smelled faintly of the flowers still lying crushed in their bed.

“It’s all right, gege,” his lover’s deep voice whispered in his ear. “Can you breathe now?”

Xie Lian coughed painfully a few times, before whispering, “Yes.”

He felt Hua Cheng’s hand rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles as he drew deeper and deeper breaths. It was something his mother and father had done for him when he was upset or disturbed as a child. Once Hua Cheng had learned of this, he began doing it as well, and even though he was no longer a little boy, Xie Lian still felt comforted by it.

From somewhere behind him, there was the sound of another arrow embedding itself in flesh, followed by the heavy thunk of a saber cutting through a body, and a loud thud as something solid hit the ground.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that — filth,” Hua Cheng whispered.

“It’s all right,” Xie Lian said, trying to smile. “I’ve heard worse.”

Then he turned his head towards the spot where Qi Rong had been lying. It had only been a matter of seconds — and one decapitation — but his cousin’s body looked as if it had been rotting in the sun for months. Only a few shreds of flesh were left, and the bones underneath were melting away into piles of muck. In another minute, there was nothing but slime and a tattered pile of bloodstained cloth.

*

Feng Xin drew his bowstring, and another arrow made of spiritual energy formed between his fingers. Qi Rong had stopped moving after the spiritual energy arrow had struck his head — those arrows could practically blow apart anything solid they touched — and his flesh and bones were dissolving, but the martial god wasn’t going to take any chances on him still being alive.

Then he heard murmuring. Hua Cheng was kneeling beside Xie Lian, who was sitting on the ground with the ghost king’s arms wrapped around him. Their heads were close together, and while Feng Xin couldn’t see Xie Lian’s face, he could see Hua Cheng’s. He was almost unrecognizable — his features had softened into gentleness, and his eye was shining as he gazed at his lover’s face. One of his hands was rubbing circles on Xie Lian’s back.

Once again, they acted as if everything outside of them didn’t exist — as if they existed in a world that held only the two of them. There was something immensely intimate about the way they huddled together, which made Feng Xin want to look away out of embarrassment. But at the same time, he couldn’t stop staring at the way Crimson Rain Sought Flower, terror of Heaven and feared by the gods, powerful enough to demand obedience from the Emperor, was kneeling on the filthy ground, tenderly caressing Xie Lian and whispering to him in a low, soft voice. He looked every inch the attentive, romantic lover.

Had Xie Lian really cast such a spell over Hua Cheng? What had he done to find his way into that icy, blackened heart and completely conquer it?

Feng Xin finally dragged his attention away, back to the pile of goop that had once been Qi Rong’s body. There was no way he was really dead. Qi Rong had been a thorn in the side of Heaven for centuries, and a constant irritant to his fellow ghosts. Someone like that didn’t just croak because of a two-minute beating, even if it was by three martial gods and a Supreme.

As if reading his mind, Xie Lian looked back and said, “Is he really…. dead?”

“No,” Hua Cheng said flatly. “He’s kept his ashes carefully hidden for five hundred years, and he only ventures out in clone bodies. I’ve killed him many times already.”

“Shit,” Feng Xin said.

“It’s all a waste of time,” Mu Qing said disdainfully, wiping his saber on the hem of his robe.

Hua Cheng was helping Xie Lian to his feet. Blood and dust caked Xie Lian’s white robe and spattered his face, but he looked remarkably calm considering the circumstances. He began dusting himself off, while Hua Cheng continued to ignore the two martial gods in favor of his lover. One of his hands gently wiped specks of blood from Xie Lian’s cheek, and the other arm was firmly wrapped around Xie Lian’s waist.

The more he saw, the more Feng Xin felt tired and run-down. Jun Wu had enlisted them to find out if Xie Lian was being abused or used for his body — and by now, Feng Xin couldn’t believe he was. If Hua Cheng had been treating him that way, the ghost king wouldn’t have hidden his cruelty — he would have flaunted it, showing Heaven that he could mistreat a god and have that god cling to him nevertheless. Instead, everything he did towards Xie Lian was tenderness and attentiveness.

Feng Xing slung his bow on his back, and sighed. He was about to tell Mu Qing that he was going home when the other martial god said loudly, “Yes, this is all very touching. I’m sure you have important… things to get back to.”

Hua Cheng’s back stiffened, and his hand gripped Xie Lian even more fiercely.

Xie Lian turned around to face Mu Qing, a rueful smile on his lips. “In all the commotion I forgot to ask why you were here again,” he said. “I assume you had a reason?”

Feng Xin pinched the skin over the bridge of his nose. “Listen,” he said irritably. “Maybe we shouldn’t—“

“We’re here to talk with you, your highness,” Mu Qing said tartly. His eyes flickered over to Hua Cheng. “In private.”

Chapter Text

Xie Lian felt Hua Cheng’s hands tighten on his body, as if he were afraid that the two martial gods would snatch away his lover. He gently slid a hand over the ice-cold vambrace to Hua Cheng’s hand, and slid his own warm fingers through the ghost’s cool ones. His lover’s face was bent down towards him, his eye gleaming with wariness towards the two martial gods in front of him.

“It’s all right, San Lang,” he said softly. “They won’t do anything.”

Hua Cheng’s eye darted towards Mu Qing and Feng Xin, who were standing and watching closely. “No,” he said quietly. “They won’t.”

Silver light blossomed from his vambraces, as a few dozen butterflies erupted from each one. They fluttered and swooped around Xie Lian like motes of dust in the wind, brushing against his face and hair. As he turned back to Mu Qing and Feng Xin, he saw them both tense at the sight. The message was clear — even if Hua Cheng wasn’t there, his butterflies would make sure that Xie Lian wasn’t abducted.

“One last thing, gege," Hua Cheng murmured.

Xie Lian was about to ask what it was when suddenly he was silenced by Hua Cheng’s mouth on his, the cool wetness of his tongue parting Xie Lian’s lips. Hua Cheng stepped closer so that their bodies were pressed tightly together, one arm circled around the back of Xie Lian’s neck to keep him steady, the other slipping down his back to cup his backside. Xie Lian’s knees felt slightly weak, and he clung to the front of his lover’s crimson robes.

“Seriously?” Feng Xin muttered. “Right in front of us?”

It was only with the thought of what they could do later in Paradise Manor that Xie Lian was able to break the kiss. Hua Cheng, he suspected, could have easily spent another ten minutes kissing and fondling him, but the ghost king had a satisfied smile on his lips. He brushed a fingertip over Xie Lian’s full lips, placed a final small kiss on the tip of his nose, and then walked some distance to the far end of the alley. As Xie Lian watched, he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, facing away from them.

Glimmering butterflies rested on Xie Lian’s shoulders and hair as he turned to face the two martial gods. Both of them looked uncomfortable — Feng Xin was blushing furiously, and Mu Qing looked intensely irritated.

“All right,” Xie Lian said mildly. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

Mu Qing stepped a little closer. “How much do you know about Hua Cheng?” he said in a low voice.

“I know enough,” Xie Lian said, smiling. “More than most people, I think.”

“You may not know as much as you think. I don’t know how he encountered you first, but it wasn’t by chance,” Mu Qing said, keeping his voice low.

Xie Lian raised his eyebrows. “Why do you think that?”

“Did you notice that red bead in his hair?”

“Yes, I noticed it.”

“Doesn’t it look familiar?”

Xie Lian’s eyes wandered across the air over their heads as he thought. “I’ve seen many beads in my lifetime,” he said at last. “I can’t really…”

“It’s the coral pearl!” Mu Qing erupted. “The missing earring you wore as the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior when you were seventeen?”

“I wore coral pearls?” Xie Lian asked, his fingers moving to his earlobe.

Mu Qing gritted his teeth. “How can you have forgotten that?” he said irritably.

“It’s been a long time, and I only wore them once. Much more important things happened to me around that time.”

Mu Qing’s usually pale features were flushed; he looked like he was going to erupt out of frustration. But he swallowed his obvious anger, his face settling into a mask of fierce intensity. “I haven’t forgotten, your highness. It’s the very same coral pearl you wore back then — and he has it. He’s been following you.”

Xie Lian’s eyes widened. Mu Qing had discerned a great deal of information from a single jewel in Hua Cheng’s hair — more than Xie Lian himself had been able to. He had needed murals and thousands of statues to understand the depth of Hua Cheng’s devotion to him, or indeed that Hua Cheng had loved him desperately for five hundred long years. He hadn’t even noticed the coral pearl before, except as a little more red tipping his braid.

Mu Qing seemed to interpret Xie Lian’s expression as shock, so he plunged forward. “I don’t know how long he’s been following you, but it must have been a long time if he obtained that pearl, and knew it belonged to the Prince of Xianle. The chances that he would have that very same coral pearl and the prince who once wore it… they’re too small to even consider. He’s obsessed with you.”

Xie Lian smiled gently. “Oh, I know.”

Silence fell between the three. Mu Qing stared in disbelief at Xie Lian’s soft expression and smile, looking as if he had been slapped. “You KNOW?”

“Yes. I found out months ago, and he told me everything.”

“He’s — you — you’re not even afraid of him?”

“Of course not.”

Mu Qing’s fists clenched. “He’s obsessed! He’s crazy — sick in the head! How can you not see that he’s trying to own you?”

Xie Lian shook his head, still smiling. “That’s not the case at all. San Lang is more… devoted than most people would be, and I know that he has been for five hundred years. But isn’t that what a god should want?” He sighed. “He would never try to keep me if I didn’t want to be here. He would never try to dominate me, or make me do anything that I didn’t want to do. He only wants what makes me happy, and sometimes he doesn’t care enough about himself…”

Mu Qing was staring at him as if he had sprouted a second head. His eyes were wide and staring, and his fists were clenching and unclenching.

Feng Xin sighed, and rubbed his forehead. “So it doesn’t bother you that he’s been following you for five hundred years?”

“Not at all.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Feng Xin turned sharply to face Mu Qing. “We did what you wanted. We told him about what you figured out, and it doesn’t bother him. You said we’d help him if he wanted it, and leave him alone if he didn’t.”

“But I didn’t think—“ Mu Qing said wildly. Then he choked off his words, bowing his head and shaking it.

Xie Lian felt a stab of pity for his old friend. Mu Qing was clearly really concerned for him — he was a suspicious, sensitive person by nature, who tended to overthink whatever was important to him. He just didn’t understand the kind of person that Hua Cheng really was, his devotion and his fierce passion, his kindness and his tenderness, and that Xie Lian could really love him so completely and deeply. Mu Qing had never been in love, so perhaps he couldn’t understand.

Just then, Xie Lian felt a hand sliding around his waist, and a firmly-muscled stomach pressing against his back. “Have they said anything to upset you, gege?” Hua Cheng murmured in his ear.

His cool cheek rested against Xie Lian’s temple, and Xie Lian could sense him staring directly at the two martial gods in front of him, a gleaming challenge in his eye. Xie Lian patted Hua Cheng’s hand gently,

Feng Xin let his head fall back as he sighed. “Let’s get out of here before they start making out again,” he said, grabbing Mu Qing’s elbow.

Mu Qing tore his arm out of Feng Xin’s grasp, but he followed him back the way they had come. With a last backward glance at Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, he vanished around the corner and was gone.

The silver necklace tinkled against Xie Lian’s throat as he turned his head to kiss his lover, and Hua Cheng’s arms tightened around him. He suddenly wanted to thank Hua Cheng for everything — for being there for him no matter what, for protecting him, for loving him so passionately, so deeply, for so long without Xie Lian even realizing it. For being his home, his love, his beautiful new life.

“San Lang,” he whispered against Hua Cheng’s lips.

“Yes, gege?”

“Let’s go home.”

Chapter Text

Xie Lian’s body arched and stiffened, a soft cry of “ah!” escaping his lips. Pleasure surged through him, streaming down his spine and blossoming in his groin, making him tremble and clutch at the sheet under him. Dimly, through the haze of exhilaration and ecstasy, he heard Hua Cheng groan loudly, felt the ghost king grip his hips as he drove as deeply inside Xie Lian as he could.

As Xie Lian lay there, his body warm and slicked with sweat, he felt a weight settling on his stomach and chest. Instinctively, he reached up and pulled Hua Cheng down on him, burying his face in his lover’s loose hair. Strong arms slid under him, held him gently as Hua Cheng kissed his throat and chin.

“Gege,” Hua Cheng murmured breathlessly, his words vibrating through Xie Lian’s flesh. “You’re so beautiful…”

“I’m a sweaty mess,” Xie Lian saod ruefully.

Hua Cheng lifted himself up then, his hair flowing around his pale face. He was smiling gently, his eye luminous in the darkened room. “Gege is always beautiful to me, in thousands of different ways,” he said quietly. “Seeing you… like this… it’s beautiful because of what we did to make you that way…”

Xie Lian felt his face flushing. He knew that Hua Cheng meant every word he spoke, down to the core of his soul, even if Xie Lian would never feel worthy of such fierce devotion. He touched his hand to the cool skin of Hua Cheng’s throat, ran his fingers upward to the line of his jaw, and then to his lips. “To me, there is no one more beautiful than San Lang,” he said firmly.

It had been a week since Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s departure, and there had been no more major disturbances in Ghost City. Xie Lian hadn’t been back to Heaven in that time, although he had ducked into the communications array sometimes to see what the other gods were discussing. Talk of him had died down somewhat, but there were still a lot of awkward whispers just out of his hearing when he made his presence known. He suspected that it would be a while before Heaven got used to the idea of a new god of love who was involved with one of the Four Calamities.

Aside from some brief outings for food, Xie Lian and Hua Cheng had spent most of the week secluded in their bedroom. The Waning Moon Officer had been instructed to not disturb them under any circumstances, including hearing any noises coming from the room.

“What if something happens to the city?” Xie Lian asked as Hua Cheng closed the doors.

“Let it go to hell if it wants,” Hua Cheng said, pulling Xie Lian into his arms. “Nothing that happens out there is more important than you.”

He had been as good as his word in the days that followed. Most of the time had been spent by the two of them exploring each other’s bodies, finding out what the other liked most. With cautious fingers and mouths, they touched each other in a thousand ways, waiting for delighted shivers or moans. Hua Cheng had been very pleased to find that Xie Lian responded to having his nipples sucked, licked and nibbled — although Xie Lian was embarrassed to have such strong reactions to a part of his body that he had effectively ignored for his entire life.

They made love frequently. Xie Lian found himself even more eager for Hua Cheng’s touch than he had been that first night, especially as the ghost king discovered new ways to wring pleasure from his body. It didn’t seem possible, that someone could bring him such intense enjoyment after five centuries of nothing, but Hua Cheng’s long studies had given him talents that left Xie Lian breathless.

When he needed time to recover, Hua Cheng had other ways to please him, using his mouth and fingers in ways that made Xie Lian blush to think about. At first, he thought that it wouldn’t be as satisfying for Hua Cheng as making love to him, but his lover seemed to merely enjoy the fact that he was giving pleasure to his god. Xie Lian tried to return the favor, though he was clumsy and unsure of himself. Hua Cheng gently directed him in what to do, stroking his god’s hair as Xie Lian knelt between his legs.

“We have all the time we need, gege,” he said gently, after one of Xie Lian’s less successful attempts. “You’re only just beginning to learn.”

But much of the time, they simply lay together in bed, without even the thin silk of a sleeping robe to separate them. Sometimes they lay in silence, Xie Lian dozing or enjoying the feeling of Hua Cheng’s cool skin against his own.

Other times, they talked. Hua Cheng seemed reluctant to talk about himself or how he had come to be the way he was at first, saying, “Much of my past isn’t fit for gege’s ears.” Xie Lian had to coax him into telling him about how he came to be a Supreme, describing how he had spent a decade in the ghost-infested wilds around Mount Tonglu. He had carved his way through countless ghosts to make his way to the volcanic heart of the mountain, and fought his way out as a Supreme.

In return, Xie Lian told Hua Cheng stories of his own life throughout the centuries, though he soon realized that his lover was unhappy when he heard of Xie Lian alone or struggling, even if Xie Lian told the stories with a humorous bent. He had learned over the years to have a sense of humor about his misfortunes — it was the only way to keep from collapsing into abject despair, sometimes.

And more and more, he found that he didn’t want to dwell so much on the struggles of those days. They would always be a part of him, a part that had shaped him into the man — the god — he was today. But when he looked back on those many years, even during his few happy moments, he found himself pitying that past version of Xie Lian. He had been so lonely, often without realizing it — he had thought of himself as wonderfully lucky if he had a roof to sleep under and enough food to fill his stomach every few days. But he had become so accustomed to loneliness that it no longer bothered him.

Xie Lian buried his face in Hua Cheng’s throat. He didn’t want to ever feel that way again. Those years felt even emptier and sadder, now that he knew what it was like to be loved, to be cherished, to be adored. He thought he had known what that felt like, after a youth when everyone seemed to love him. Now he realized that he had never really known.

“Gege, what’s wrong?” Hua Cheng said, tilting his head so his cheek was resting against the top of Xie Lian’s head.

“Nothing,” Xie Lian said, his voice muffled. “I’m just… so glad to be with you, San Lang.”

He felt Hua Cheng’s lips touching his forehead, and pressed a kiss of his own against the ghost king’s throat. “I know,” he said quietly, “that you must be even happier. You waited so long — so patiently — and you never even knew if you would see me again.”

“I knew, gege,” Hua Cheng said softly. “I couldn’t stand to think about not seeing you again. No matter how long it took, no matter how far I had to search, I was determined to find you.” He slipped a finger under Xie Lian’s chin, and gently raised his face. “And once I did find you, I would have done anything — sacrificed anything — just to stay near you.”

Xie Lian smiled. “That’s a good thing. Because I would do anything — sacrifice anything — to stay near you now.”

He felt warmed by the smile that curved Hua Cheng’s lips then, and the brightness that was kindled in his eye. Once again, he marveled that no one else in the world had seen the Crimson Rain Sought Flower that he had — only whatever glimpses were seen when he was with Xie Lian in public. This life was where they both belonged.

Forever.

Chapter Text

A young man appeared near the boundary between the ghost realm and the mortal realm, just as the sun was setting.

He appeared without fanfare — one minute the path he was on was empty, and the next he was walking at a leisurely pace under the drooping branches of the trees. A chilly breeze stirred his hair and his robes, but he seemed to be unaffected by the cold.

As darkness fell, the lanterns of ghosts shone dimly in the distance, and the harsh voices of a few of them rang out as they argued. Smaller ghosts, from the ghost fires to the occasional Menace, wandered through the forest on their way, glimmering in the night with cold phosphorescent light. The young man walked among them, not showing any sign of worry, and soon many eyes turned to him.

“It’s Xie-daozhang!” one of the ghosts whispered to his friend. “I wonder what he’s doing out here without Chengzhu.”

The ghosts all eagerly peered at the young man. He was a tall, slender figure clad all in white, his long dark hair hanging down his back. But when the man turned to look at them, they realized that they had made a mistake. This wasn’t Xie-daozhang after all. Their Chengzhu’s lover didn’t wear a white mask that completely concealed his face — one half laughing, one half crying.

Swiftly, ghosts began to slip away from this mysterious figure, as quickly as they could. Some had heard stories and rumors from hundreds of years ago of an apocalyptic Supreme who had reduced whole countries to ashes. He was supposed to be dead — the Heavenly Emperor had killed him, so they said — but there was no need to be reckless. Some simply sensed a glimmer of the figure’s power, and knew that he could crush them without a second thought.

The young man continued walking along his path, seemingly unbothered by the emptiness of the surrounding forest. None of these ghosts were important — they were as inconsequential as the dried leaves that he crushed under his feet. As long as they scampered out of the way, he would let them continue to “live.”

The only ghost that concerned him was in the heart of Ghost City. But even that ghost was merely a complication.

His real goal was Xie Lian.

Ah, Xie Lian. Five hundred years had passed since he had last seen the little god. Five hundred years in which Xie Lian had vanished from sight, slipping away from the eyes of ghosts and gods alike. Five hundred years in which he had been forced to crawl through the mud, suffering the scorn of a mortal life, and misfortunes he had brought upon himself.

He had suffered. He had lost everything. Now he had ascended for the third time — which meant he was no longer hidden from the eyes of his oldest, dearest friend. The friend who would help him finally become who he was always meant to be, as much as he had fought against it in his foolish youth. Bai Wuxiang had already set in motion the mechanisms to bring about Xie Lian’s downfall… and his rebirth.

There was just one obstacle. One insignificant distraction.

It was no matter. It wouldn’t take long before Xie Lian finally embraced his true self, and Bai Wuxiang would finally have his masterpiece. It was only a matter of time.

The young man came to the edge of Ghost City, seeing the darkness cut by the glow of a thousand crimson lanterns. He would make his way through this place in many forms, suffuse it with his presence, and quietly observe Xie Lian. He became something else as he entered the city, a faceless dark figure that slipped effortlessly through the streets — and if a few ghosts blocking him went missing in all the commotion, nobody seemed to notice.

Finally he saw what he was looking for — a tall, slender young man dressed all in white cultivator’s robes, standing at a small food cart, carefully holding a small ceramic bowl between his hands. He was smiling in a way that lit up his large dark eyes and transformed his face from merely handsome to bewitching. Standing beside him was a taller man dressed in crimson, his head bowed as he spoke to the white-clad man. The cultivator turned his head swiftly towards his companion, and began to laugh.

Behind his mask, Bai Wuxiang smiled.

TO BE CONTINUED