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Chapter Text

The day is not going quite according to plan, Xie Lian muses as he lurches forward onto the ship deck with an unceremonious thud. 

Feng Xin and Mu Qing land hard on either side of him, and the latter levels an especially venomous glare at the men who shoved them. Pirates, if Xie Lian isn’t mistaken. He’s not specifically familiar with this ship or its crew—not that he would be with any such operation, really—but the pirate thing would explain why Xie Lian and his friends are now hostages. 

Their captors have halted in place, work apparently done after all the time spent knocking them unconscious, binding, and dragging them to the port. It was a little embarrassing how easily the three of them had been blindsided, their combat skills rendered useless by a few surprise blows to the head. Xie Lian winces, not at the throbbing pain in his skull but at the thought of how unprepared they were for a fight. 

Flicking a glance behind him is enough for Xie Lian to gauge that this smattering of crew members is waiting for something—or, perhaps, someone.

Xie Lian’s suspicions are confirmed mere minutes later with the arrival of a newcomer, as a man in a sleek red coat that matches the color of the sails emerges onto the ship’s main deck. Even without seeing the crew members all bow their heads in deference, Xie Lian would be able to recognize this man’s authority here. He finds it difficult to imagine someone with such an intimidating presence could be anything other than the captain of this ship. 

His movements are languid, Xie Lian notices, as unconcerned as they are confident. This is a man who knows he’s in control and expects everyone else to know too, lest they suffer the consequences of their impudence. 

Xie Lian waits curiously to feel some sort of trepidation, but no such sensation manifests within him, even as the man in red draws closer. Admittedly, Mu Qing and Feng Xin would probably say Xie Lian has a lacking reserve of healthy fear, and they may even be right on that count. It just seems silly to be frightened in situations like these—not that he’s been kidnapped by pirates before, exactly, but in any moment of crisis he finds that calm is the most useful response. 

Xie Lian thinks he could summon some terror given the right circumstances, but these don’t yet seem to fit the criteria. The pirate captain radiates power, yes, but Xie Lian likes the look of him. He has a good-natured air to him—not to mention a rather lovely coat (Xie Lian makes a mental note to compliment him on it, should they make it through this encounter with their lives intact). He wears an eyepatch over one eye, which makes Xie Lian idly wonder whether it’s actually missing or he just liked the look of it. He’s also—and Xie Lian is aware this is an inappropriate focus for the current predicament—very, very handsome. The kind of handsome that makes Xie Lian wish an entirely different chain of events had brought them into contact. 

“Well, well,” the captain drawls. Xie Lian doesn’t know what he was expecting—something guttural, maybe, vocal cords worn down by years at sea—but the man’s voice is low and silky, colored with evident amusement. “What have we here?” He’s looking expectantly at his crew.

They scramble to answer, talking over each other in earnest to explain they’ve caught some suckers for ransom. Mu Qing’s face grows several shades more murderous with every word they utter.

“Just look at ’em—they must be worth something,” one pirate is saying. “A prince, I heard one of them is—”

The captain’s face had remained impassive throughout their collective ramblings about the utility of hostages; he looked far more invested in tracing an outline of the scimitar hanging from his belt than in anything his underlings were saying, but he finally glances up at those last several words.

Xie Lian jolts as the captain’s gaze settles on him for the first time. The weight of that look should feel far heavier than it does, but for the duration of their almost unsettlingly prolonged eye contact Xie Lian can only summon a thrumming intrigue. Despite his friends’ best efforts to instill some sense into him over the years, it’s not fear that makes his heart rate pick up in that moment. 

“And who might you be?” this pirate leader asks, the velvety quality of his voice accentuated by the softer tone he employs to address Xie Lian. A simple incline of his head sends three crew members scurrying to untie the gags preventing the three hostages from speaking.

There’s no real reason to lie, is there? Xie Lian’s wrists are bound together with rope, but he still manages to give a polite little wave with one hand. “Xie Lian,” he says pleasantly. 

There’s a sharp pain in his calf as Mu Qing swings his feet around to kick him. “Are you an idiot? Why would you tell him that?” he hisses. “Don’t you know who that is?” 

Xie Lian stares back at him blankly.

“This is The Crimson Flower,” Feng Xin says in a strained voice on Xie Lian’s other side. Mu Qing gives Xie Lian a meaningful look at that, but the ship name doesn’t ring any bells, so Xie Lian turns away.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, meeting the gaze of the captain once again. “We’re being rude. What’s your name?” He smiles brightly, ignoring the furious sputtering of his companions. 

A smile unfurls across the man’s lips in return. His face is still unreadable, but Xie Lian finds he quite likes this smile. “You may call me whatever you so desire, Your Highness. Might I suggest San Lang?”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian repeats, running the name over his tongue. “I like that,” he decides. “But there’s no need to address me so formally.”

“I am not calling Hua Cheng that,” Mu Qing says snidely, far too loud this time. 

“I most assuredly was not speaking to you,” the captain—Hua Cheng—says, ice encasing the words. Xie Lian feels a bit bereft at the loss of warmth in his voice, and then a bit confused as to why that’s his primary concern amid being tied up on an apparently infamous ship. “You don’t have permission to address me at all. Gege,” the captain continues, looking right at Xie Lian, “what might we call your . . . acquaintances?”

“‘Gege’?” Feng Xin and Mu Qing repeat in outraged unison. 

Xie Lian feels his cheeks warm at the term of familiarity, but he doesn’t object. (Any protest from him would likely ring false, anyway, with Hua Cheng gazing at him like that.) 

“This is Feng Xin, and that’s Mu Qing,” Xie Lian replies, using his bound hands to clumsily indicate each as he named them. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Mu Qing’s rage seems to have sent him into some kind of apoplectic shutdown, because he can’t even seem to form a response, but Feng Xin lets slip an appalled “Your Highness!”

“‘Your Highness’?” repeats a disdainful voice. It’s coming from a man Xie Lian now realizes has been standing slightly behind Hua Cheng this entire time. Xie Lian had been so focused on the captain he had barely even registered the presence of this black-clad pirate and his frown. “Don’t tell me these idiots somehow managed to get their hands on royalty.” His chin juts toward the crew members behind Xie Lian, face etched with dislike. Xie Lian isn’t sure if the enmity is reserved for those men specifically or the world in general.

Hua Cheng huffs, a short and mirthful sound, as he regards the man at his right and then his crew. “Even halfwits know value when they see it, He Xuan.” 

Xie Lian’s scope of vision is somewhat limited at present, but the faces he can see from his position appear unbothered by the designation of “halfwits.” It’s interesting, Xie Lian thinks, to see a crew so eager to please a captain seemingly scorning them. It makes him want to know more.

“Well?” He Xuan prompts. “Are you going to deny it?”

In an instant, Xie Lian recalls the current hostage situation and subsequent claims of his royal status. “Oh,” he says. “No. I mean, yes, I will have to deny it.” He affects a rueful smile—not a particularly difficult feat considering how rueful he does feel at the reminder of his former life. The sting of that loss has at least started to ebb away by now. “I’m afraid there isn’t anyone left who will pay a ransom for us now. Apologies.”

“Why the fuck are you apologizing to them?” If Mu Qing’s hands weren’t tied he would almost certainly be rubbing his temples right now. “Do you recall the part where we’re their unwilling captives?” 

“Politeness never hurts.” Xie Lian neglects to express what he actually wants to say, which is that he’s getting a good feeling about this. There are far worse boats they could’ve landed on, surely? 

Hua Cheng is eyeing Xie Lian with interest, like one might a particularly tricky puzzle. “I have a hard time believing no one would want you back, gege.” The words are spoken in almost a purr.

Xie Lian sees He Xuan give Hua Cheng a subtle pinch on his upper arm—though, to the captain’s credit, he doesn’t even flinch. 

“Gege, why don’t you come with me for a chat?” Hua Cheng sweeps an arm toward one end of the ship. “I suspect we’ll have a more productive conversation in private. Your companions can wait here, if that’s alright with you.” 

Xie Lian takes a moment to consider this proposal, tuning out the cacophony of protests that erupts from the companions in question. “Sure,” he agrees, holding out his bound wrists. “If you’d be so kind as to untie me?”

“Of course.” Hua Cheng’s crew begins protesting too as their captain strides forward to free one of their hard-won captives, but he easily silences them. Xie Lian watches calmly as Hua Cheng unsheathes the scimitar hanging at his waist.

Mu Qing and Feng Xin clock this action with evident panic, their voices approaching fever pitch, but Xie Lian doesn’t feel any fear at all as Hua Cheng slices through his restraints in one clean movement. 

“Lovely,” Xie Lian says. He rubs at the red marks on his wrist, just barely catching the blistering look Hua Cheng aims at his crew. Xie Lian isn’t sure what stirred such rage in the captain, but he certainly wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of it.

The room that Hua Cheng leads him to is resplendent in red, with a massive wooden desk headed by a throne-like chair. Xie Lian expects Hua Cheng to conduct this conversation from there, but he instead offers a sweeping gesture at the black divan instead. 

“Please, get comfortable.”

“What a nice room,” Xie Lian murmurs, glancing around as he takes a seat. It’s not what he would expect of a pirate captain’s lair; the design is clean and almost sophisticated. But there aren’t many personal touches at all, at least from what Xie Lian can see.

Hua Cheng’s face was not particularly solemn before, but his expression grows even warmer at the compliment. “Thank you, gege.” He sits down too, just far enough away to maintain a respectable distance but still close enough that Xie Lian can get a better look at him. His long black hair is unkempt, but he pulls off the roguish look quite well, even managing to look somewhat elegant with the red ribbon braided in on one side. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Oh, not really.” Xie Lian runs his fingers over the back of his head almost subconsciously, and Hua Cheng follows his gaze. 

“Your head? I’ll have a tonic prepared. And some balm for your wrists, of course.” 

Before Xie Lian can protest that that’s really not necessary, Hua Cheng is already striding toward the door to summon a member of his crew and relay his instructions. Xie Lian takes a moment to admire the singular painting that hangs on the wall. The subject matter—a delicate white flower—is so simple, and yet the artwork is so visually compelling, especially with the abstract slashes of red that drip down around the flower but never touch it. 

“Now that’s settled,” Hua Cheng says, pulling Xie Lian’s focus as he sits back down, “let’s talk about you. How did you end up so far from Xianle, hm?”

Xie Lian’s brows lift. “How did you know we’re from Xianle?”

He can’t help but feel a little surprised by the question. Xianle was once a flourishing kingdom, but it was also rather small, and its heyday ended some years ago now. Xie Lian and his companions have been traveling for a couple months now, and this far south it is somewhat rare for anyone to know the name. Perhaps Hua Cheng has sailed waters closer to the Central Plains at some point—or perhaps he even hails from near there. Xie Lian can’t discern a specific accent in his voice as they speak the common tongue, so it’s hard to tell. 

Hua Cheng gives a casual sort of half-shrug, his lips still curved in an amused smile. “Lucky guess, you might say.”

The corners of Xie Lian’s own mouth curl up. “I’m sure it is.”

“Are you trying to get back there?”

Xie Lian glances away, his smile falling a bit. “I’m afraid there’s no Xianle to go back to.” 

“What happened?” These words are softer, without an edge of mischief curling around them. If Hua Cheng keeps talking like that, Xie Lian won’t know whether he should laugh or cry. 

One could say what happened in Xianle followed the natural life cycle of kingdoms. A land could only be peaceful and prosperous for so long before someone else would set their sights on it, and Yong’an had laid siege to the walled capital city for long enough to starve them out before a battle was even fought. 

It was only after the blockade began that the royal family of Xianle discovered the food stores had been sabotaged. The city should’ve been able to hold on for years if necessary, but with such critical supplies destroyed, there were barely enough resources to sustain the city for a few months, especially if the food was equally distributed among all the citizens. The council of advisors and his parents had tried to convince Xie Lian that the city could survive if they just held out until reinforcements came. But as the months dragged on, witnessing the havoc that starvation wreaked on his people as he sat idle in the palace became too much for him to bear. 

Mu Qing and Feng Xin were among those who wanted to fight, even knowing that Yong’an’s army, backed by greedy neighboring kingdoms, outnumbered Xianle’s forces nearly ten-to-one. Xie Lian feared a massacre if they began an all-out war, but the options dwindled day by day, as the people of Xianle grew more and more emaciated.

In the end, it was Xie Lian’s idea to try to negotiate with the Yong’an leaders. He had hoped that at least the common people could be spared further devastation somehow. If it was the throne Yong’an wanted, he wasn’t too prideful to step aside, but in each negotiation session the other side toyed with him, offering terms far too brutal for him to accept. They obviously knew Xianle wasn’t in a position to hold on for much longer, and they didn’t seem to have much interest in a peaceful integration.

The greatest naivete of Xie Lian’s life was believing in Yong’an’s gesture of good will, some weeks or months into trying to work out an arrangement. He didn’t truly believe that anyone could want this war to end in bloodshed if it didn’t need to, and he was so desperate to make progress that it made him stupid. In the end, the gift they’d offered Xianle had been a front to sneak Yong’an soldiers into the city in the middle of the night, allowing them to slaughter civilians in their beds as they headed for the palace. 

Mu Qing and Feng Xin helped Xie Lian get out of the palace that night, but he sometimes wishes they had just left him to die there with his parents. At least then he wouldn’t have to sit with this guilt and grief, wondering how he could’ve done better. It’s the thinking of a coward, he knows, but he sees the images of his dead parents and razed city nearly every time he closes his eyes. 

The three of them had hidden undercover in a neighboring territory, waiting in limbo without a plan for what to do next. Mu Qing and Feng Xin had differing ideas about the exact path forward, but both seemed to expect the end goal was Xie Lian reclaiming his rightful throne and restoring Xianle to its former glory. In all his grief, Xie Lian couldn’t bear to entertain such nonsensical ideas, and that’s where the cracks began to deepen. The two of them managed to find secret networks of fellow refugees of their kingdom, but their efforts were in vain. Xie Lian didn’t see a way to bring Xianle back to life without more pointless bloodshed, and he’d lost all faith in himself as a potential leader anyway. 

So he moped around, kept afloat by the meagre returns of his busking, and he chipped away at whatever goodwill he still had with his friends until he drove them away entirely. Mu Qing had left first, but Feng Xin hadn’t been able to hold on much longer with how forcefully Xie Lian had insisted he leave too. 

Xie Lian wanted them to have a fresh start without him, and he supposed he wanted a chance to start over too. He didn’t find it in his wandering, and with the way they’d left things he didn’t expect to ever see his friends again, but somehow the three of them found each other again. It was awkward then—it’s still awkward now, because Xie Lian never knows what to say, and they seem even less sure—but Feng Xin was bold enough to suggest a change of pace for the three of them. 

The southernmost kingdoms were far enough from their homeland that they could start over, he claimed. Xie Lian suspected there was more to it than that, especially when Mu Qing didn’t seem terribly opposed to the idea, but Xie Lian was desperate to escape the memories plaguing him in the Central Plains, so they’d started the monthslong journey south that had led them to this very ship. 

Xie Lian gives Hua Cheng a heavily abridged version of Xianle’s fall, trying not to lean too obviously into his self-loathing. Hua Cheng listens intently, giving the occasional hum of acknowledgment. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t be more valuable prisoners,” Xie Lian finishes with a sheepish grin.

“Don’t say that,” Hua Cheng says. It’s hard to tell whether he intends to be joking or serious. “You’re plenty valuable to me.”

“Oh?” Xie Lian tries to laugh, but it’s a little uncertain. “I can swab the deck, if you’d like.”

Hua Cheng shakes his head. “Your companionship will be worth plenty. But I don’t intend for you to be a hostage on this ship. Can I offer you a ride to your next destination?”

Xie Lian thinks for a moment. Before they’d been kidnapped, they hadn’t had the funds to board a ship, so they’d planned to continue on foot, taking the long route. A ship would certainly be more efficient.

“Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?” he asks. “We were headed to the Southern Isles. Feng Xin would probably have a better idea of where exactly he wanted to go.”

“Perfect,” Hua Cheng says, rising to his feet. “That’s where the ship is headed as well. It would be no trouble to host you until then, gege.” He gestures to a door next to the couch. “The guest quarters are through there, if you’d like to make yourself comfortable.”

Xie Lian has never heard of a pirate ship having designated quarters for guests, but perhaps Hua Cheng hosts often. That would certainly explain the small but lavishly decorated adjoining room, complete with a four-poster bed. “But San Lang,” he says, glancing back to the study, “where do you sleep?”

Hua Cheng grins impishly at him. “Gege is already asking such personal questions. We must be on good terms indeed.” Satisfied by Xie Lian’s laugh, he continues, “Don’t worry about me. I prefer to sleep in the crew quarters. Helps my crew feel like I’m one of them.”

Xie Lian has no idea if this rather absurd statement has any merit to it, but he can sense a thread of steel in the captain’s tone disinviting any argument. 

“Unless this was your way of inviting me into your bed? How shameless.” Hua Cheng’s tone is clearly joking now, and Xie Lian can’t help but chuckle again.

“You’re the shameless one, San Lang, bringing up such things. But I want to thank you sincerely for your hospitality.” He inclines his head in a nod of gratitude.

Hua Cheng makes a noise of disagreement. “There’s no need for such things between us. I can already tell we’ll be great friends, and between friends the debt of gratitude is meaningless, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so,” Xie Lian says, considering this notion. He’s never been one to pay much mind to favors even for those he isn’t friends with, but that was an easier practice when he was the one with wealth and prestige. But if Hua Cheng doesn’t want him to feel indebted for any kindnesses, Xie Lian will do his best to oblige. “You know, you’re not what I expected a pirate captain to be like.”

Hua Cheng huffs a laugh, gesturing to his eyepatch. “No? I don’t live up to your imagination, even with this?”

In truth, even with the eyepatch, Xie Lian finds him far too handsome and charming to meet the stereotype of pirates he’d heard tales of in his youth. He’d thought a pirate captain would be grizzled and vulgar, not at all like Hua Cheng. 

“My imagination could never have summoned you,” Xie Lian says honestly. Realizing that this sentiment could be taken negatively, he hurries to add, “You’re far better than anything I could dream up.”

It takes him another beat to register how flirtatious that came out, when he was just trying to be honest. He agonizes over whether to retract it somehow or clarify his intent, but seeing the new kind of smile that unfurls on Hua Cheng’s lips, he really can’t bring himself to.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian finds, as he and Hua Cheng reemerge onto the main deck, that Mu Qing and Feng Xin have not been having as pleasant a time on The Crimson Flower as he has. What primarily tips him off is the way his companions are standing back to back in a defensive stance. They’ve managed to slip their restraints, somehow, but they’re being held at swordpoint by the pirates encircling them. 

Xie Lian’s brow creases. “What did you do? I was only gone for a few minutes!” 

“It was more than that,” Feng Xin grits out. 

“For all we knew he’d already slit your throat,” Mu Qing says. He jerks his chin at Hua Cheng as he says this, and the captain merely laughs. “We weren’t just going to sit around and wait to be killed too.” 

“Pity,” Hua Cheng says. 

Xie Lian sighs. He knows Hua Cheng doesn’t actually intend to kill any of them, but he can’t deny that this rising mutual animosity is going to be a problem if they’re all to coexist for the duration of their journey south. “No one’s going to be killed. San Lang is going to help us.”

He Xuan, who stands among the crowd threatening Mu Qing and Feng Xin, scoffs. “Is he now?”

“I thought we’d take a little trip to the Southern Isles.” Hua Cheng traces along the handle of the scimitar hanging at his waist and cocks his head. “Problem?”

He Xuan eyes Hua Cheng with reproach, but he must not have any power to interfere with the captain’s plans, because he doesn’t reply. 

“Great,” Hua Cheng says. “Now how are we going to deal with these two?”

The two in question stiffen, if possible, even more. They’re sizing up their opponents like they intend to just take their chances without a weapon in the sword fight about to ensue. 

“They attacked us first.” He Xuan twirls the sword in his hand, making Feng Xin flinch. The pirate is clearly enjoying his upper hand quite a lot—not surprising, considering pirates notoriously loathe noblemen. “Per our laws they should be made to walk the plank, but we should probably find some shark-infested waters first.”

“Laws?” Mu Qing scoffs. “Don’t make me laugh. As if you’re not lawless scum, pirate.”

The ship is still docked, so walking the plank at this point could actually seem a useful escape route for Feng Xin and Mu Qing, but they likely wouldn’t leave him behind, and Xie Lian imagines Hua Cheng is capable of dreaming up a much worse outcome for them. 

“And to think, I was ever-so-generous with my hospitality,” Hua Cheng says, shaking his head. 

Feng Xin turns his head enough to scowl at the captain. “You kidnapped us!”

“I can’t control what my crew does with their leisure time at port. I told them to take a spa day.”

Ignoring that remark, Feng Xin continues, “If that’s what pirates call hospitality, I think we’re better off on the plank.”

Xie Lian steps forward at this point, wringing his hands as he attempts to stave off his mounting concern about how this might escalate. “Let’s not be too hasty,” he says to his friends before turning to Hua Cheng. “Surely there’s a way we can work this out peacefully.” He smiles his most winsome smile, not really expecting it to work, but it has been known to win people over in the past. Not the recent past, exactly, but . . . regardless.

Whether out of pity, genuine friendliness, or something else entirely, Hua Cheng’s face does smooth out. “What did you have in mind, gege?”

“Ah, um . . .” He hadn’t gotten that far. “They can apologize?”

His companions of course choose that moment to launch into an impassioned rejection of this idea. (And to think they accuse him of not responding appropriately to potentially dangerous situations!)

“I’m afraid I might not believe them if they did,” Hua Cheng says.

He Xuan sighs, his sword arm lowering. “Just slit their throats and get this over with.”

Xie Lian waves his hands, a nervous laugh already at his lips. “No, no, let’s not do that.” 

He’s trying to come up with something, anything, to appease both sides in this conflict, but he has come to accept in recent times that such a task is easier said than done. Or, perhaps easier done by someone other than him, he’s not sure. 

“Don’t trouble yourself, gege.” Xie Lian lifts his eyes, which have been practically boring a hole in the deck as he thought, and refocuses on Hua Cheng, who is smiling gently at him. “We can settle this simply. Let’s play a little game, shall we?”

Xie Lian feels quite relieved that someone has made a suggestion other than the immediate demise of Mu Qing and Feng Xin. He’ll be even more relieved once he hears the rules of this game and finds out whether it involves any maiming. (He believes Hua Cheng generally wants to help him, but he doesn’t necessarily think such a sentiment is extended toward his companions.)

“What kind of game did you have in mind?”

“Your Highness, this is obviously a trap,” Mu Qing says. “Don’t be stupid enough to fall for one of his pirate tricks.”

“Hey, who are you calling stupid?” Feng Xin rams his elbow into Mu Qing’s side, making the pirates around them flinch at the sudden motion. “Don’t talk to His Highness like that. Your Highness, are you sure this is the best idea?”

Hua Cheng is smirking. Xie Lian has never particularly cared for arrogance, but he can’t deny that it’s a good look on Hua Cheng. But then again, he doubts there’s anything that looks bad on him. (And is it arrogance at all or just warranted confidence? He’ll have to mull it over more.) 

“Just a simple dice game,” Hua Cheng says. “You and I will roll, and whoever gets the higher score wins. If you win, your companions will be spared, provided they don’t cause any more trouble on the journey.”

“And if you win?”

His smirk widens, and it makes him look terribly, terribly handsome. “Then my crew can do whatever they want with those two.” 

At this, a smattering of excited chatter breaks out among the pirate crew; some of them look downright delighted, clutching their swords a little tighter at the thought of having these noblemen as playthings. A wave of anxiety rushes through Xie Lian.

“San Lang, the thing is”—he lowers his voice, and Hua Cheng leans closer to hear—“I have extraordinarily bad luck. Maybe it would be better if one of my companions rolled instead.”

“That won’t do,” Hua Cheng murmurs back. “I want to play you, not them. Tell you what,” he says, voice rising back to its normal volume, “I’ll give you some instruction on how to play.”

The crew roils with discontent at this declaration, but their voices die down after a single look from Hua Cheng. He Xuan, the only pirate not cowed by his captain, rolls his eyes, shoves his sword back into its scabbard, and stalks off the main deck. 

Mu Qing raises his voice in the silence He Xuan leaves behind. “Your Highness, he’s clearly trying to trick you. What instruction do you need on how to roll a dice? That’s just—”

Hua Cheng jerks his chin, and the pirate nearest Mu Qing claps a hand over the other man’s mouth, effectively shutting him up. Mu Qing immediately begins to struggle violently against the sudden attack, but Xie Lian politely suggests that he stop causing trouble while they get this sorted out.

In truth, he is a bit skeptical about what advice Hua Cheng intends to offer, because as far as he knows, there isn’t any strategy to rolling dice. But if there is anyone who could use such a thing, it’s Xie Lian. As if to compensate for all the good fortune and blessings he enjoyed as a prince for most of his life, his luck has become downright miserable. He didn’t know it was even possible for Lady Luck to so thoroughly abandon a person, but he can’t remember the last time he rolled anything higher than snake eyes.

“San Lang, is there really a way to improve?” he asks in a low voice, scarcely daring to hope. 

“Would I lie to you, gege?” Hua Cheng’s grin is infectious. He may be a formidable pirate captain, but he has a youthful air of mischief about him that Xie Lian can’t help but like. Hua Cheng holds his hand out seemingly at random, and a pirate immediately drops two dice onto it and backs away. He makes another gesture, and another crew member rushes forward to place a barrel in front of them. “I’ll roll first.” 

He cups the dice between his hands, shakes them lightly, and lets them fall onto the top of the barrel. Everyone—including Xie Lian—leans forward to see the result. Hua Cheng flicks a disinterested look down at the dice, as if he knows what he’ll find there. A six and a five.

It’s an impressive throw, but truly almost any throw would be good enough to beat Xie Lian’s luck. 

Hua Cheng scoops the dice up and places them gently into Xie Lian’s palm. Xie Lian feels the ghost of a shiver dance through him at the brief skin contact. 

“We’re doomed,” he hears Mu Qing mutter as Xie Lian begins to shake the dice. He tries to tune them out, but it’s hard when Mu Qing squawks as Feng Xin elbows him again, and an attempt at retaliation ensues. The pirates don’t seem to know quite what to do when their targets are trying to brawl with each other. 

Xie Lian’s hands still as another hand comes to rest on top of them. “Gege, the technique isn’t quite right. Might I assist?”

Xie Lian can’t help but feel like he’s being teased, but he nods anyway. Hua Cheng’s hands cradle his own, guiding them in a circular motion as Xie Lian rattles the dice. 

“Now try,” Hua Cheng says.

Xie Lian lets the dice fall, watching intently as they come to their final stop. Two threes. “I lost,” he says, but he can’t keep the thread of wonder out of his voice. It’s a higher roll than he’s managed to get in who knows how long. “San Lang—”

“Wait,” Hua Cheng says. His voice cuts through the premature celebration by his crew and the violent profanities Xie Lian’s companions are spitting in response. “I’m not done teaching you, gege. That was just a practice throw.”

Xie Lian’s surprise at these words is nothing compared to the reactions of the pirates, which run the gamut from confusion to outrage. Xie Lian can’t say he quite blames them; they probably haven’t seen their fearsome captain stoop as low as to instruct someone—a former hostage, no less—in dice rolling. It seems pretty ridiculous when Xie Lian thinks of it that way, but of course he has no complaints. 

They go through the same motions again not once, or even twice, but three more times, with Xie Lian scoring two fours, two fives, and finally two sixes. Xie Lian looks down at the final roll with no small amount of awe. 

“Ah, good job, gege,” Hua Cheng says nonchalantly. “You won.” The captain doesn’t have the demeanor of someone who just lost a game; rather, he looks like he too has just won something. 

“All thanks to your instructions, I expect.” Xie Lian is so delighted by the moment that his eyes disappear into crescents. “Thank you, San Lang. You must be a good luck charm.”

The pirates around them have cycled through a few stages of grief during this game before finally landing on acceptance, insisting that of course Xie Lian had won, with such a good teacher at his disposal. It was only natural. 

With a wave of Hua Cheng’s hand, the crew lower their weapons. Mu Qing and Feng Xin seem rather wrongfooted now that they’re not being actively threatened at swordpoint, so Xie Lian walks up to them and tells them in a quiet voice to please not start any more trouble. “It’s just temporary,” he insists. “Think of this as a free trip to the Southern Isles.”

The two of them exchange looks that Xie Lian can’t quite read, but they must be interested enough in getting to their destination that they both finally nod tersely. Xie Lian sincerely doubts this will be the last of the trouble on board, but at least the first crisis has been averted. Hua Cheng may not be so generous with them next time.

Although, Xie Lian thinks as he glances over to where the captain is slouching against the railing, Hua Cheng does seem to have the capacity for a lot more generosity than anyone else expects.

“Do other ships have such lovely guest quarters?” Xie Lian wonders aloud. It’s the first time he’s tried to initiate small talk with the other two since they arrived on the ship, and it doesn’t feel quite natural to him. 

“Guest quarters?” Feng Xin echoes. “What do you mean? Are you sleeping in an actual room?”

“Are you not?” Xie Lian asks.

“We’re hostages,” Mu Qing snaps. His temper is fouler—and his face greener—than usual, likely because a swell of seasickness overtook him as soon as The Crimson Flower set sail and still has yet to leave him. 

Xie Lian contests Mu Qing’s characterization of the situation, but he and his friends have argued the finer points of it many times over the last couple days, and he no longer thinks it’s helpful to do so. “Where are you sleeping then?” 

His scowling companions gesture to the very deck they’re sitting on, watching the pirate crew at work. “You’re looking at it,” Feng Xin mutters. 

They’ve all slept in worse conditions than on the hard floor of a ship at some point, but Xie Lian does feel abashed that he alone is being treated to a bed. 

“I’ll ask San Lang for some bedding for you,” he decides, getting to his feet. He feels rather pleased to have some kind of task ahead of him. Hua Cheng had refused his offers to help the crew during this journey, saying there was no need for Xie Lian to trouble himself with manual labor, but the restlessness brought on by all this inactivity has been steadily gnawing at Xie Lian. 

Mu Qing rolls his eyes. “As if that’ll work. A pirate is not going to spare some pillows for his captives.”

Feng Xin clicks his tongue. “Well, he can at least ask.” The sulkiness of his reply makes Xie Lian suppress a smile.

“He should ask for Hua Cheng to stop hanging around all night,” Mu Qing counters. “I can’t sleep knowing he’s right over there, watching us.”

“I’ll be right back,” Xie Lian tells them, then makes his way up to the helm of the ship. Hua Cheng is discussing something with He Xuan, who Xie Lian now knows is the first mate of the ship. Before he even addresses Hua Cheng, the captain is already waving away an annoyed He Xuan. 

“Gege,” he says warmly. “I hope everything is to your liking so far.”

“Of course.” Xie Lian smiles back at him. “There was just a small thing I wanted to ask about.” He does mean to ask about Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s sleeping conditions first, but somehow what comes out of his mouth is: “Have you not been sleeping?”

Hua Cheng’s eyebrows lift at the question; it’s obviously not what he was expecting Xie Lian to ask either. “I . . . rest somewhat. Why do you ask?”

“Ah, my friends say you’re out on the deck all night. It’s really not good for your health to stay awake all the time, San Lang.”

“Someone has to make sure everything is in order,” Hua Cheng hedges. 

“I’m sure it doesn’t help that I’m currently occupying your bed,” Xie Lian continues. 

Hua Cheng startles at this—maybe he hadn’t expected that Xie Lian would realize the “guest” quarters are in fact the captain’s sleeping quarters. The captain on this ship just happened to be particularly attentive to guests, it seemed. Well—Xie Lian thinks of Mu Qing and Feng Xin sleeping on the deck—some guests, anyway. 

“It was really kind of you to put me up in your room, but I don’t want my comfort to come at the expense of yours. Really, San Lang, we can just share the bed. Or,” he adds hurriedly, seeing the violent jolt that shudders through Hua Cheng at this idea, “you should have your bed back and I’ll sleep elsewhere.”

Hua Cheng’s ears are an impressive shade of red. Xie Lian suspects a similar color is painting his own cheeks. “Share the bed?” Hua Cheng echoes, as if he hasn’t even heard the rest of Xie Lian’s words. “Gege, are you sure that’s . . . ?”

“It’s appropriate if we say it is,” Xie Lian says firmly, assuming that’s the intent of Hua Cheng’s question. He’s not in the business of being easily swayed by the judgment other people might cast, and he has no problem with the solution he has proposed to their sleeping arrangements if it means they can both rest well. “If you’re okay with it, of course.”

“Yes,” Hua Cheng says immediately. “If gege doesn’t mind, that’s . . . yes.”

“Oh. Wonderful, then!” Xie Lian inclines his head and half-turns before he remembers the original purpose of coming over here. “Oh, San Lang, would you happen to have any spare blankets or pillows?”

“Yes, of course, whatever gege needs.”

“Ah, thank you very much. Mu Qing and Feng Xin would like some.”

“Oh?” Hua Cheng glances over at the pair in question and taps his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps I was too hasty in answering, without having checked the available supplies. I think we might be all out of spares, actually.”

“San Lang,” he chides, though there’s evident laughter in his voice at the mischief he detects in Hua Cheng’s demeanor. 

Hua Cheng sighs a bit theatrically. “I’ll have someone bring them something for tonight, gege.” 

“That would be wonderful. We’re very grateful to you and your crew.” Xie Lian follows Hua Cheng’s skeptical glance toward the other two, who are scowling up at them. “Well, I am very grateful.” He laughs awkwardly. “Please, there must be something I can do to repay your hospitality.”

“Your company as I attend to my duties would be more than enough,” Hua Cheng says. If Xie Lian didn’t know better, he would think the captain sounded almost shy as he said this. “But I understand if you don’t—”

“No, no, I would love that,” Xie Lian says quickly. “In truth, it was getting a little boring sitting over there.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Hua Cheng offers his hand, and without a second thought, Xie Lian takes it, disregarding the indignant squawks that drift over from where Mu Qing and Feng Xin are sitting.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian’s first taste of true pirate life comes when a ship with putrid green sails appears on the horizon. 

Hua Cheng tenses beside him, and then a burst of frenetic energy sweeps through the crew. Everyone else seems to immediately understand the significance of this other ship—there’s even an air of excitement about it, as orders are barked and preparations are made to face it. 

“The Green Lantern,” Hua Cheng says, as if he can read Xie Lian’s thoughts, or at least the question probably written on his face. “A rather infamous ship.”

“Infamous like yours?” Xie Lian asks, remembering how Mu Qing and Feng Xin had recognized The Crimson Flower. 

Hua Cheng’s face contorts with disgust. “No. Nothing like ours.”

The captain must mean ours as a general term referring to his crew, but Xie Lian can’t help but imagine what it would be like if he and Hua Cheng led this ship together. It’s a silly thought, but it sticks in his head nonetheless as Hua Cheng continues to explain.

“That ship is helmed by a vile little creature who likes to take prisoners to eat.”

Xie Lian blinks several times in rapid succession, unsure if he heard that quite correctly. “He eats . . . people?”

“Yes,” Hua Cheng says darkly. “As I said, vile. Unfortunately, what The Green Lantern and its crew lack in skill and strength, they try to compensate for by being a pain in the ass. Do you know how difficult cockroaches are to kill, gege? It’s like that.”

Xie Lian gazes out at the approaching ship, his nose wrinkled. “I see. Are you planning to confront this ship?”

Hua Cheng nods. “If it’s alright with you, we just need to make a brief stop to wipe out some trash—it won’t take long. Please don’t worry. I will keep you safe.”

“I’m not worried about myself,” Xie Lian says. “I only want to know how I can be of use to you. I’m pretty handy with a sword, you know.” He doesn’t mention that tournament after tournament had proven him to be the best swordsman in all of the Central Plains, because that’s rather embarrassing. 

“If it comes to that, gege, your combat expertise would be most appreciated.” Xie Lian expects the crew is plenty handy in a fight without his help, but he’s pleased nonetheless at the prospect of being useful. Not to mention how long it’s been since he got his hands on a sword. Oh, how he misses his armory back home. “I’d prefer to just blast that godforsaken ship to pieces,” Hua Cheng continues, “but I suppose it’s never so simple with Qi Rong.”

It’s not the revulsion in Hua Cheng’s voice but rather the words themselves that freeze Xie Lian’s blood—specifically that name. “Qi Rong?” he repeats. Surely, that couldn’t be the same Qi Rong he knows, but he has to ask.

Hua Cheng turns to scrutinize Xie Lian’s face. “There have been rumors that he was from a royal line in the Central Plains but—forgive me, gege. I didn’t make the connection.”

“Oh. That’s my cousin,” he says, voice a bit fainter than he intends as he thinks about the boy he grew up with.

Hua Cheng’s face goes taut. “If you do not wish to engage, I will do my best to avoid it, but that may be tricky. He has a personal vendetta against this ship for being what his could never dream of being.”

Xie Lian waves a hand. “No, no, not on my account. He’s my cousin, but he’s not . . . he’s not the person I hoped he would become. The person I actually knew was never particularly pleasant to be around.” 

When Xie Lian thinks of the boy who used to follow him around with stars in his eyes, he also has to remember the boy who threw explosive tantrums that injured those around him and who tried to call for the deaths of Xie Lian’s closest companions without a shred of guilt. The one who tortured animals for fun and told lies like it was a beloved hobby. 

Shortly before the war with Yong’an began, Qi Rong had been temporarily sent away by the queen for what she’d called a “meditation retreat.” In reality, it was a sugarcoated punishment at Xie Lian’s request for his cousin’s increasingly erratic and sadistic behavior. The timing likely saved Qi Rong’s life, since he was far away from the siege when it happened and therefore didn’t suffer the same fate that had befallen most of the Xianle royal family in the end, but Xie Lian is pretty sure Qi Rong doesn’t see it that way. The last he’d heard of his cousin was a report from Feng Xin that Qi Rong had been behind the spread of some rather foul rumors about Xie Lian and his deceased parents.

Xie Lian never would’ve imagined Qi Rong would end up with a ship—though he certainly had the funds to acquire one—or that he’d end up using it for such evil. But he can’t find it within himself to feel much more for his cousin than weary disappointment.

“Whatever you need to do, I’ll help,” Xie Lian says grimly.

At least Xie Lian gets a moment or two of amusement at the situation when Qi Rong first spots him. His cousin’s shock at seeing Xie Lian on The Crimson Flower is quite comical, even amid the brewing conflict. 

Qi Rong recovers quickly, his face twisting with disgust. “Cousin,” Qi Rong calls, “what are you doing over there? Shouldn’t you be busy destroying kingdoms somewhere?”

“I’m on sabbatical,” Xie Lian deadpans. In order for his cousin’s words to affect him, he’d have to feel a baseline of respect or fondness for the younger man, the embers of which have long since been smothered. 

He largely tunes out the shouted profanities that ensue. Qi Rong is clearly angling for a way to unbalance Xie Lian, but perhaps he should be more focused on the battle being waged around them. Cannons are firing, and the ships are now close enough that Hua Cheng’s crew is descending upon The Green Lantern in droves to clash with Qi Rong’s forces up close. Qi Rong’s taunting is interrupted by a dagger embedding itself in his left shoulder. He clutches at it, temporarily silenced by the pain, but his yelling quickly starts up again, this time with Hua Cheng as his target.

Xie Lian appraises the man next to him. “Nice throw.”

“I should’ve aimed better. He’s too far away for a clean hit.” Hua Cheng lobs another dagger at Qi Rong, but this time Qi Rong is prepared to dodge it, using one of his own crew member’s bodies as a shield. The man it does hit shouts in agony. Qi Rong, recognizing a losing fight, ducks out of sight. 

Mu Qing and Feng Xin appear at Xie Lian’s side, then, finished with whatever instruction they’ve been giving the crew. As soon as they’d learned of Qi Rong’s approach, the two of them had hardened into battle mode. They hated Qi Rong with a fury Xie Lian could only imagine, and had practically jumped at the prospect of taking him down. The captain had declined to allow them blades of their own, citing liability concerns, but the two can more than hold their own even without weapons. 

Xie Lian has calculated where he would be most useful during this battle and decided on his path. Hua Cheng had said Qi Rong is notorious for taking innocent civilians hostage, and if there is any such person on The Green Lantern, Xie Lian is going to ensure they are freed by the end of this.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, not stopping to gauge the reactions of his companions or Hua Cheng before he’s climbing up onto a higher platform and grabbing a rope that’s tied sufficiently high up. The Crimson Flower’s grappling hooks have pulled the enemy ship close enough that it’s a fairly reasonable distance for what Xie Lian is about to do. 

Mu Qing and Feng Xin are at his heels in an instant, demanding to know what he’s thinking, but they’re too late to stop him from swinging across the water and landing on The Green Lantern. Once his feet are planted on the deck, he wastes no time drawing the sword Hua Cheng has lent him for this battle. He parries the blows that immediately descend upon him from enemy combatants and easily disarms them. 

The rush of adrenaline that shoots through Xie Lian makes him feel almost guilty for enjoying the fight so much. It’s been a long while since he’s held a sword, and it feels just as good as it used to. Maybe even better. He’s so caught up in the rush that it takes him a second to recognize the pirate now fighting at his side.

“San Lang,” he says, delighted. 

“Gege, don’t just go running off like that,” Hua Cheng chides, but he doesn’t sound particularly aggrieved. His swordwork is incredibly impressive, Xie Lian notices. He has an eye for such talent, and while Hua Cheng lacks the precise technique of an army-trained soldier, he more than makes up for it with sheer speed and power. As he fights off pirate after pirate, making them retreat one by one, he might as well be cutting through water. He looks almost bored.

“Technically, I didn’t run.” Xie Lian grins, whirling around to fend off a blade that was aimed at Hua Cheng’s back. He has no doubt Hua Cheng would’ve dodged in time, but it feels good to be able to defend him. 

He turns to gauge the source of the throw and sees Qi Rong peeking out from behind a pillar. As Xie Lian advances on his cousin, Qi Rong makes a break for the lower deck, so Xie Lian follows him down. He trusts Hua Cheng and his crew to have the battle well in hand. 

If Xie Lian knows his cousin, Qi Rong will lead him right to the hostages. He probably intends to use them as human shields, but Xie Lian will have to find a way to remove him from the situation if he hopes to get everyone out alive.

Indeed, scattered amid the supply barrels are at least ten or so people bound and terrified. Xie Lian scans the dim space for Qi Rong, but he needn’t look far; his cousin has hauled a woman to her feet to hold her with a sword to her neck.

“Cousin,” Qi Rong croons, once again buoyed by confidence now that he senses an upper hand. “Tell this poor creature whose fault it’ll be if she dies.” 

Xie Lian flexes his sword hand, casually stretching it out. “Yours.”

“Wrong!”

“Your sword at her throat suggests otherwise.”

Qi Rong laughs, not a trace of humor in it. “Cousin, cousin, don’t be like that. I’m merely looking out for myself—this is just insurance. You have the choice of leaving her alive or not, and that has nothing to do with me. Don’t you see?” He presses the sword even closer—but not far enough to draw blood just yet—and the woman gasps. 

“Please,” one of the other hostages says hoarsely, “don’t hurt her.”

“Shut up, vermin,” Qi Rong snaps. “I didn’t ask for your input. I’m trying to have a conversation with my cousin.”

Xie Lian is watching Qi Rong, but he’s barely seeing him. Instead, he’s sifting through scenarios in his head of how this could play out, trying to find the one that won’t end with a dead hostage—or, worse, multiple. 

“Your quarrel is with me, not them,” Xie Lian says. “Let her go, and fight me yourself.” He knows Qi Rong is almost certainly too cowardly to do so, but there’s an off chance his cousin will be arrogant enough to try. Either way, it’ll keep him talking long enough to buy Xie Lian some time.

Qi Rong starts cackling again, an awful grating sound that makes all the civilians flinch. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you? Well, let me tell you something, you stupid dogfucker. This is my ship, and I’ll decide how this goes. You’re not just going to waltz in here with the useless trash Hua Cheng calls a crew and—”

“With all due respect, can you really cast judgment on Hua Cheng’s crew when your own is so . . . ?” Xie Lian trails off. He could’ve picked from an array of entirely accurate criticisms, but Qi Rong having to fill in the blank is much more satisfying.

As expected, Qi Rong’s face turns a concerning scarlet. “HOW IS THAT RESPECTFUL?”

Xie Lian shrugs one of his shoulders. “I didn’t say any respect was due.”

In his outrage, Qi Rong has loosened his grip on his sword, perhaps overcome by the urge to push it forward in Xie Lian’s direction instead. He’s yelling again, every other word a rather creative curse, but Xie Lian tunes him out. He’s been slowly inching sideways toward the wall, where someone has carelessly abandoned a lantern. Amid Qi Rong’s distraction, he positions himself in front of it and finally manages to pick it up.

“AND—HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Xie Lian adopts an innocent expression. “Listening to your vitally important rambling, of course.” He slowly brings the lantern around to his front to show Qi Rong, sending up a prayer to nowhere that his cousin’s crew is stupid enough to leave such a thing unattended on a wooden ship. “Oh, and finding some use for this. Would be a shame if I dropped it, wouldn’t it?”

Qi Rong stares at him. The silence is quite pleasant for a moment. “You wouldn’t dare. You could kill everyone on this ship, including your precious Hua Cheng. You’re fucking him, aren’t you? Why else would—?”

Xie Lian holds the lantern out, loosening his grip on it to just a few fingers. If he drops it, it should smash easily, and it probably won’t take much for a ship like this, in a room full of wooden barrels, to catch fire.  

“HEY, HEY, STOP THAT! XIE LIAN, YOU SON OF A BITCH, YOU—”

“Gege,” a smooth voice interrupts the yelling. “Might I assist?”

Xie Lian turns back to smile at Hua Cheng, nodding over at the other hostages. “If you’d be so kind as to free them while I have a discussion with my cousin?”

Qi Rong’s eyes are darting wildly between the two of them. He must know that the chances of him leaving here alive are narrowing, because he starts dragging the woman he’s holding backward with his arm around her neck, pointing his sword threateningly at Xie Lian. 

Hua Cheng makes quick work of the hostages, slicing through their bonds with ease and sending them up the stairs, where safety hopefully awaits them. 

Xie Lian hands the nearest hostage his sword and tells him to lead the group over to The Crimson Flower. “We’ll take you to land as soon as we can,” he promises. To Hua Cheng he asks, “What’s going on up there?” 

Hua Cheng shrugs. “Battle’s mostly won. Most of my crew are headed back over.”

They advance on Qi Rong, who has been struggling to move quickly with his human shield. “STAY BACK!” he yells. “I REALLY WILL KILL HER. DO YOU WANT THAT ON YOUR CONSCIENCE TOO, AFTER YOU ALREADY DESTROYED THE KINGDOM OF XIANLE? I’LL—”

A knife cuts through the air faster than Xie Lian can even blink and stabs Qi Rong in his sword arm. The sound of the sword clattering to the ground is swallowed by Qi Rong’s undignified shriek of pain, and the arm around the woman’s neck loosens. As soon as she can, she shoots out of his grasp and past Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, calling a breathless thanks as she escapes up the stairs. 

“YOU FUCKER, HUA CHENG, I’LL KILL YOU TOO—” The threat is dulled by how pitiful Qi Rong looks cradling his arm. 

Hua Cheng draws yet another dagger out of his boot—it’s rather impressive how many he’s able to carry, actually—and seems ready to throw it, but Xie Lian stops him. 

“HAH,” Qi Rong crows, “XIE LIAN, YOU BLEEDING HEART. SEE HOW FAR THAT GETS YOU—”

“It’s not worth wasting another perfectly good dagger on him,” Xie Lian says, and then tosses the lantern in the direction of Qi Rong. He grabs Hua Cheng’s hand and doesn’t look back.

“He’s probably still alive out there,” Hua Cheng says, sounding disappointed. The Green Lantern is a burning wreck in the distance now. No huge loss, if Xie Lian is honest. The Crimson Flower is sailing away with the rescued hostages and a small portion of Qi Rong’s crew who had no interest in dying with their captain. The rabidly loyal ones are mostly floating on bits of wreckage now.

Hua Cheng’s crew runs an efficient operation, that’s for sure. They’d easily overpowered Qi Rong’s pirates and seized a sizable volume of supplies before the ship went up in flames. Mu Qing and Feng Xin had barely had to lift a finger on The Crimson Flower, but they’d certainly gotten their adrenaline pumping after the battle by lecturing Xie Lian on the stupidity of swinging onto an enemy ship mid-battle. Xie Lian had wondered if Hua Cheng would have a similar monologue prepared—mostly because Xie Lian can sense a certain protective instinct in the captain—but Hua Cheng seems to trust Xie Lian’s judgment in a way not even his longtime companions do.

Xie Lian makes a noise of agreement with Hua Cheng’s words, because he has no doubt Qi Rong dove off the ship in time and is merely biding his time until he can rebuild his operation. He’s probably thrashing around in the water as they speak, cursing Xie Lian and Hua Cheng to the high heavens. It’s a little funny to think about. “We’ll just have to stop him again next time.” 

“We?” Hua Cheng echoes. There’s a smirk on his lips. “Are you planning to be here for the next time, gege?”

Xie Lian laughs, a bit embarrassed by what he’d just implied. “I just meant—ah, ignore me.” Hua Cheng snickers, but he doesn’t press further. The two of them sit in silence for a while longer, until Xie Lian says, “It must be an interesting life out here, with the sea as your home.”

“It wouldn’t be accurate to call it a home,” Hua Cheng says. “A home has a family.”

“Do you not consider your crew family?” Xie Lian doesn’t get the sense that Hua Cheng does, but it’s a bit too melancholy to think of Hua Cheng being as lonely as Xie Lian often feels. 

Hua Cheng snorts. He’s folded leisurely over the railing, gazing out at the open ocean. “Gege, any day with a pirate crew could be the day they decide to slit your throat. That’s not your family. They’re just the people who will follow you until they happen upon something better.”

Xie Lian mulls over the sentiment. Hua Cheng’s words make sense, of course, and he would know far better than Xie Lian what it’s like to captain a ship such as this. But Xie Lian can’t help but think the crew is far fonder of Hua Cheng than the captain has any awareness of; at the very least, there’s a deeply rooted respect for their leader that guides their every behavior. Xie Lian is generally pretty astute at sensing such things, and there isn’t a pirate on this ship—not even the dead-eyed He Xuan—who seems at all reluctant to recognize Hua Cheng’s leadership. 

But he doesn’t think it’s his place to interfere in such interpersonal matters, so he merely says, “It must get lonely out here, then. Do you ever wish for someone to share this life with?”

Hua Cheng lets out a quiet huff of laughter. “There is one person I have thought of for a long time. But I dare not hope they’d ever want such a life, least of all with me.”

“Why not?” Xie Lian demands, affronted on Hua Cheng’s behalf for reasons he can’t entirely explain. “San Lang, if this person doesn’t see the value of a life with you, they’re not the right person. Don’t forget that.”

“Gege has a rather strong opinion on the matter. Would you still feel that way if the person were you?”

“I—I mean, that’s—but—San Lang, don’t tease me.” Xie Lian is glad they’re not making eye contact right now, because in his flustered state his cheeks are warming, and he’s not even sure why. Hua Cheng is surely just joking around, as he likes to do, and anyway, he’s talking of a person he’s known for a while. Xie Lian couldn’t be such a person to him, so it’s silly to get tangled up in thoughts of what it would be like to be Hua Cheng’s beloved. 

“I was just kidding,” Hua Cheng says with a chuckle. “But gege, can I ask you another question?”

“Of course.” He can’t imagine what Hua Cheng will come up with now, especially with the captain smirking like that.

“If I were drowning, would you rescue me?” 

“What kind of question is that?” Xie Lian gives him a quizzical smile. “You know I would, San Lang.”

“How would you resuscitate me?”

“The ship doctor would surely be better equipped—I wouldn’t say I’m familiar with the techniques for resuscitation.”

“Oh, really?” Hua Cheng says casually. “I could teach you.”

“Wh—? Are you planning on jumping overboard in the near future?” Xie Lian shakes his head, amused despite the ridiculousness of this conversation. 

“You never know.” 

“San Lang,” Xie Lian says, more solemn now, “I’m sure you’re a very good swimmer, but don’t do such a thing.”

“Fine, fine,” Hua Cheng placates, but he’s still grinning. “We could still practice resuscitation techniques, just in case.”

Now that Xie Lian considers it for a moment, he does remember witnessing a court physician trying to revive a man who had stopped breathing, using a curious method of blowing air into the patient’s mouth. He thinks about practicing that with Hua Cheng and feels slightly, inexplicably hysterical. “Let’s not tempt fate, hm?”

“If gege says so.” If Xie Lian didn’t know better, he’d say Hua Cheng sounds almost like he’s sulking.

Xie Lian nudges at his shoulder. “You’re so insincere, San Lang.”

Hua Cheng unfolds himself from the railing and stands straight, all at once more serious than he has been for this entire exchange. “Gege,” he says, pausing until Xie Lian straightens up too and looks at him, “I promise you won’t find anyone more sincere than me in this world.”

It’s a startling thing for a pirate to say, so much so that Xie Lian doesn’t even know how to respond. But, strangely, he believes Hua Cheng when he says that.

Chapter Text

Something shifts after the raid of The Green Lantern. 

Before, Hua Cheng’s crew had treated Xie Lian with trepidation and even suspicion, unable to figure out why this hostage they’d brought to try to please their captain was now under said captain’s protection. Xie Lian had tried to engage them in small talk, only to be rebuffed by fearful glances over at Hua Cheng or expressions of mild reproach. 

But it seems that Xie Lian fighting alongside them and even burning down an enemy ship has done wonders to endear him to them, to the point where anywhere he goes on The Crimson Flower, he has eager pirates trailing after him. If they’re not asking for tips on their swordplay and footwork—perhaps having gathered how thrilled Xie Lian is to be asked about such matters—they’re requesting his opinion on every little thing they can think of, from what herbs would work best for healing a cut to who should be chosen as the winner of some minor verbal dispute. 

Xie Lian doesn’t quite know what to do with all this attention, but he does his best to indulge the crew, reasoning that he has nothing better to do with his time since Hua Cheng still hasn’t assigned him any duties. But it does reach the point where he barely finds time to spend with Hua Cheng at all, too caught up in fighting lessons or little games. 

Mu Qing and Feng Xin are not typically invited to join in such things, though Xie Lian does occasionally rope them in to give demonstrations of more complicated techniques. Mu Qing seems to be finally starting to overcome his seasickness—at least enough to devote most of his focus to quarreling with Feng Xin. The two of them have at least seemed to calm down a bit about Xie Lian’s close relationship with Hua Cheng, if only because they’ve decided there’s little they can do about it. (“Are you not seeing the red flags?” Feng Xin had tried asking shortly into their journey at sea. Xie Lian, who was glancing up at the ship’s sails, had said, “Red is a beautiful color, don’t you think?”)

It only takes a day or so for Hua Cheng to become fed up with the other pirates monopolizing Xie Lian’s attention.

“Gege,” he complains, “what if I too need your help with my swordwork?”

Xie Lian’s eyes drift to Hua Cheng’s lovely scimitar. “San Lang,” he says with a smile, “you’re already so skilled with a sword. Shouldn’t I devote my attention to those who are less experienced?”

“Gege thinks I’m skilled?” 

“Well, yes, of course. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

Hua Cheng steps closer. “What if I do?”

Xie Lian laughs, a bit breathlessly. “Do you want me to praise you or help you?”

“Can’t you do both?”

Xie Lian isn’t sure what he would’ve responded had they not been interrupted by one of the crew shouting something about a capsized boat. He hurries up to the bow for a better look, and indeed there’s a small, half-sunk vessel not too far from them. He turns to Hua Cheng, who has followed him to the front of the ship, and says, “San Lang, we should see if there are any survivors who need help.”

“Whatever gege wants.” Hua Cheng’s smile is indulgent, and Xie Lian realizes how presumptuous he’s being in demanding something of the captain just like that. His cheeks grow hot. This isn’t their ship, after all; it’s Hua Cheng’s. 

“Ah, no, forgive me. It should be your decision, of course.”

Hua Cheng’s mind must already be made up, though, because he just starts giving out orders as if he always intended to do so. 

“What’s that? Another detour?”

Xie Lian turns to find Feng Xin walking up to him now that Hua Cheng has left his side. 

“We’re just going to see if anyone needs help,” he explains.

“And Hua Cheng just agreed to that?” One habit that neither Feng Xin nor Mu Qing seems inclined to break is saying Hua Cheng’s name like it fills their mouth with poison. 

“He . . . really cares about fishermen?” Xie Lian tries.

Feng Xin snorts. “I’d sooner believe he intends to pick them up for free labor.”

“He’s really not that bad, you know.”

“He tried to push me overboard just this morning!”

That does sound like Hua Cheng, actually. “Maybe he thought you wanted to go for a swim?”

“Very astute guess, gege,” Hua Cheng says as he returns to Xie Lian’s side. “But I actually thought he could use a bath.”

Xie Lian pretends not to hear this, lest he laugh. (It would be hypocritical, anyway, since Xie Lian is also in need of some proper bathing after so many days aboard a pirate ship.) “Where’s Mu Qing?” he asks instead. 

On The Crimson Flower, it’s become rare to see Feng Xin without him, and vice versa. Living in what they perceive as an enemy stronghold seems to magnetize them together, but it does nothing to prevent their constant fighting. Xie Lian is never sure when it’ll stop at bickering or turn into a full-on brawl. 

A disgruntled noise. “How would I know?”

“I told him the fishing boat was probably attacked by sirens, so he’s now cowering below, I expect.” 

Now even Feng Xin looks like he’s not sure whether to laugh or maintain his scowl. “You’re lying,” he finally decides, but he doesn’t sound wholly certain. “Sirens are a myth.”

“Are they?” Hua Cheng gives a characteristically insouciant shrug. “Wouldn’t I know the sea’s many secrets better than you? You’re welcome to find out for yourself, though.”

Feng Xin shoots him a suspicious look and stalks away, probably to find Mu Qing and compare notes on the likelihood of encountering creatures that resemble women and lure sailors to their deaths. For Feng Xin, who seems mildly terrified of women to start with, this must be a harrowing possibility. 

“You’re incorrigible,” Xie Lian says, a bit more fondly than the situation calls for. “Where is Mu Qing really?”

Hua Cheng waves a vague hand toward the stern of the ship. “Spewing bile, I presume.”

Whether that refers to Mu Qing being sick or merely talking in the way Mu Qing usually does, Xie Lian has no way of knowing. 

Hua Cheng sighs theatrically as he continues. “Gege keeps such unfortunate company.” 

“Yourself included?” Xie Lian teases.

“Myself especially. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to consort with pirates? We’re awful, the lot of us. Not at all worthy of your time.” Hua Cheng is smiling, but it’s hard to gauge whether he’s actually kidding. 

“San Lang, I don’t base my relationships with people on assumptions or prejudices. As long as I like you as a person, it wouldn’t matter whether you’re a criminal or a king.” Xie Lian feels a bit silly about how earnest he’s being when there’s a good chance Hua Cheng will brush it off with a joke, but he wants this to be clear. “You being a pirate is just one of the many interesting things that make you the San Lang I’ve come to know, and I like what I know.”

Hua Cheng is silent for a while, holding his gaze with an intensity that makes Xie Lian’s heart beat a little faster. “You’re right, of course.”

Xie Lian’s smile is tinged with relief. When he talks, he always finds Hua Cheng sincerely listening and understanding his words. It’s such a simple, wonderful joy, to feel heard like this. 

Xie Lian also revels in the companionable silence that rests between them sometimes. He’s always felt awkward in long stretches of silence, seeing them as something to be bridged and overcome. But with Hua Cheng, he never feels an urgent need to fill in those gaps, and it’s a surprisingly tranquil revelation. They can just bask in each other’s presence, without expectation or discomfort. 

When Hua Cheng eventually does speak again, he asks, “Gege, are there any improvements you would suggest for the ship?”

“Improvements?” Xie Lian’s brow furrows as he considers the question. He doesn’t have much of a frame of reference for pirate ships, but The Crimson Flower seems rather lovely already, especially when compared to a ship like The Green Lantern. They may live by the laws of the sea, but Hua Cheng runs a tight ship. 

“Mhm. What would elevate your—or anyone’s—experience on the ship? Please give a full review of our services and amenities.”

What an odd question. Could it have anything to do with Hua Cheng’s beloved? Does he hope to improve the ship before inviting them aboard? 

Xie Lian can’t imagine much more that could be done, really. He supposes his tastes are simpler these days, but he does still think it would be difficult to curate a more attentive stay on a pirate ship. 

Hua Cheng lets him marvel at his private collection of weapons on board, even the rare and unusual ones, and keeps offering for Xie Lian to take any he wishes or even all of them (an offer that Xie Lian sadly had to decline, since he has no real use for most of these treasures and would hate for them to fall into disrepair). He always asks Xie Lian what meals he should have the cook prepare—to which Xie Lian says anything will be fine, and Hua Cheng insists on learning his favorite ingredients and dishes. (He also asks about Feng Xin’s and Mu Qing’s least favorite things, but Xie Lian declines to give him any ammunition on this front.) Hua Cheng was at first terribly reluctant to let Xie Lian lift a finger, but as Xie Lian has gotten more in tune with the rhythm of the ship and the work to be done, he’s found ways to be of use, and Hua Cheng has even started to show him some of the ropes. 

Perhaps the most prominent example of Hua Cheng’s boundless hospitality is the fact that he is letting Xie Lian share his bed. This is a matter they have not discussed at all since they agreed upon it, and one that Xie Lian finds to be somewhere between mildly agonizing to surprisingly pleasant at any given point in the night. On the one hand, he has no problem sharing close quarters with another person, having done so many times during his travels with his companions. He finds the experience elevated, even, by the quiet intimacy of his relationship with Hua Cheng. There’s a warmth about it that he never found in sleeping next to Mu Qing or Feng Xin. 

But for reasons Xie Lian dare not fathom, the closeness can sometimes feel unbearable because of how much more he wants from Hua Cheng. What that more means exactly he can’t yet put words to—all he knows is that sometimes he lies there in the dark and thinks about how his hand accidentally brushed against Hua Cheng’s and how he wants it to happen again on purpose. 

He’s never been plagued by such sentiments before, and they’re made all the worse by the way Hua Cheng never shows what he’s thinking. Perhaps to him Xie Lian is just a platonic placeholder for some lover who might one day finally choose Hua Cheng in return. The thought sets Xie Lian’s teeth on edge. 

But as far as the ship goes, he really has no complaints, and when he relays as much to Hua Cheng, the captain frowns. 

“There must be something, though, surely?”

Xie Lian doesn’t quite know why Hua Cheng is so eager to improve, but he tries his best to think of something. “Maybe you could have a little library on board for the crew,” he suggests.

This makes Hua Cheng cackle. “I admire your optimism, but we pirates are not renowned for our literacy. You’d be hard-pressed to find more than one or two members of the crew who can actually read.” 

“Really?” Xie Lian immediately feels foolish for his surprise; after all, while reading classical works and learning impeccable calligraphy were important tasks for a crown prince in training, he doubts the majority of the people who ended up on this ship ever had the opportunity, means, or cause to learn such things. “That does make sense. Perhaps I can offer some instruction to anyone who might wish to learn, then?” 

“You’ve already done more than enough for the riffraff here.” 

“Oh, please. None of what I’ve done compares to your incredible hospitality, San Lang. Please let me repay it in what small ways I can.” 

“There’s nothing to repay,” the captain insists. “But if you’re offering lessons, I won’t say no. My penmanship could use work.”

Xie Lian smiles at him. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

It really is that bad.

Xie Lian tilts his head as he studies the markings on the paper before him. If he squints hard they almost look like words. Not quite, but almost.

“Well?” Hua Cheng’s arms are crossed and his slouch is casual, but he’s watching Xie Lian intently, so Xie Lian makes sure to give him an encouraging smile.

“I have never seen such unique handwriting,” he says honestly. “You really infuse every word with such personality, San Lang.”

Hua Cheng’s eyebrows lift. “Is that so?”

“Would I lie to you?” Xie Lian can’t help but grin as he remembers Hua Cheng saying the same words to him over their dice game. He suspected he was being teased then, just as Hua Cheng must suspect now.

His handwriting is utterly illegible, to the point where it actually pains Xie Lian a bit to look at it. But it’s impressive for a pirate to be literate at all, and Xie Lian won’t laugh at or pity his efforts. He will, however, be subjecting Hua Cheng to his tutelage for the foreseeable future.

“Never,” Hua Cheng replies firmly. 

“I hear you’ve resorted to educating the rabble?”

Xie Lian has been waiting for some snide commentary from Mu Qing on his recent activities, which have expanded to include reading lessons for a large contingent of the crew. 

“I’m trying to be helpful,” he says, keeping his tone neutral. It doesn’t really matter how he speaks, though; Mu Qing always finds a reason to be upset one way or another. 

“Helpful,” Mu Qing repeats. If it were any more sardonic, there would be literal venom dripping from his mouth. “Well, aren’t you a saint?”

Xie Lian tries not to sigh. This is why he’s been trying to avoid Mu Qing for most of the journey so far. “Not really. I just want to be of use.”

His relationship with Mu Qing over the years can in many ways be likened to a ship at sea. It was seemingly calm at first—though Xie Lian suspects now that was just the product of their dynamic as a prince and a servant who would never dare to rock the boat—but it has been increasingly besieged by rough, unpredictable waves. Xie Lian thought he knew Mu Qing fairly well, at least as well as friends do, but these days he thinks maybe he has never really understood the other man at all. 

“Don’t be too disappointed when there’s no statue erected in your honor. They are pirates, after all.”

The smile Xie Lian wears is placid. “If you’re worried about me getting too friendly with pirates, you can just say so.”

Mu Qing scoffs at that, but he also looks away, so Xie Lian’s aim must not have been too far off. “I’m not worried,” he mutters. “You’re the one not being cautious. If anything, you should be worried.”

“What need do I have to be cautious? It’s not as if I have anything worth stealing, and if they wanted me dead they’ve had plenty of opportunity already,” Xie Lian points out. He hopes to ease Mu Qing’s mind with this logic, but the other man already seems to be shutting down. “I might as well enjoy my time on board.”

It’s not the right thing to say to Mu Qing, who has despised probably every moment he’s spent on The Crimson Flower, if only out of principle, but Xie Lian finds himself hard-pressed to care. He doesn’t have the magic words that will settle Mu Qing’s mind or salvage their friendship, and he does want to enjoy his time here. He’s just being honest. 

“Glad someone is,” Mu Qing retorts in a voice that is very much not glad. “Just don’t get too comfortable.” 

Perhaps this is his way of saying, Don’t leave us, but Xie Lian can’t deny he thinks about it constantly. Not about parting ways with his friends, specifically, but that would be a natural consequence of remaining with Hua Cheng and his crew. It’s a silly fantasy to indulge anyway—would they really want an extra mouth to feed indefinitely? It feels presumptuous to even have such thoughts, but with each passing day a life at sea seems more and more promising than anything that could await Xie Lian on land.

As they draw closer to the Southern Isles, Xie Lian is starting to become curious about what exactly they intend to do there. He has long sensed the other two have some sort of agenda, but hopefully it’ll be easy enough to deflect once they get there. He fears they haven’t yet let go of Xianle, not the way Xie Lian has. He’s not at peace with how bluntly he severed those ties, but giving up on any future with his kingdom was the only way he could continue on during that time he spent alone. 

“I’ll try not to,” Xie Lian says with a weak laugh. Admitting he’s already quite comfortable here would no doubt inflame the conversation more.

Mu Qing eyes him warily—clearly content to argue further, if that’s even what they’ve been doing—but they’re interrupted by Hua Cheng calling, “Gege, would you come over here?”

Secretly relieved, Xie Lian gives Mu Qing an apologetic shrug and makes his way over to the captain. He Xuan stands at his side looking annoyed, which is fairly par for the course. He’s not sure what the first mate does with most of his time, actually, beyond looking annoyed. 

“Gege,” Hua Cheng greets him warmly. “The crew has prepared something as a token of their gratitude to you.”

Xie Lian feels Mu Qing’s eyes practically burning holes into his back, but he doesn’t turn around. “That’s—that’s wholly unnecessary, San Lang—”

“You wouldn’t want to scorn their efforts, would you?” Hua Cheng smirks like he knows he has backed Xie Lian into a corner with that one.

“Well, no, but . . .”

“Then have a seat, won’t you?” A few crew members emerge from the captain’s quarters bearing Hua Cheng’s massive chair. At the flick of their captain’s hand, they set it down next to Xie Lian, who stares at it. He half-expects Hua Cheng to sit in it, but Hua Cheng instead gestures to him. 

“I can just sit on the deck, San Lang. There’s really no need to—”

“What kind of host lets their guest sit on the ground?” Hua Cheng tsks. “Please sit, gege.”

Seeing no way out of this and feeling slightly mortified that Mu Qing—and now Feng Xin as well, actually—will bear witness, Xie Lian sits gingerly on the chair. It has intricate patterns in gold around the framing, complemented by soft red cushioning. “What am I sitting for?” he asks with a nervous chuckle.

Now that he’s facing the right direction, he can just about guess what’s about to unfold. He’d asked Hua Cheng days ago what pirates like to do for fun, and Xie Lian remembers that the captain mentioned now and again the crew would entertain themselves by acting out plays or stories they’d heard. It had made Xie Lian smile, imagining Hua Cheng having a makeshift theater troupe on his ship.

The off-duty and nonessential crew members have gathered on the main deck, some sitting cross-legged on the floor to watch. Mu Qing and Feng Xin stand on opposite sides of the deck, both trying to observe without appearing too interested.

Hua Cheng, standing at Xie Lian’s side, waves a hand to begin the performance.

Xie Lian finds himself so immersed in the show that unfolds before him, he scarcely remembers to breathe. 

It becomes clear very quickly what—who—the play is about, and despite the content it’s not one Xie Lian has ever seen before. The main actor wears white robes, a crown, and a mask painted to look like the one Xie Lian usually wore for the annual festival in Xianle. When he recognizes himself, he’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. He glances up at Hua Cheng, searching for some excuse to make this stop, but Hua Cheng returns his beseeching look with a light smile and a nod that for some reason keeps Xie Lian in place. 

There are even actors to represent Feng Xin and Mu Qing, marked respectively by a bow strapped to one man’s back and a broom in the hands of another. Feng Xin nearly laughs himself sick at the sight of the latter, and Mu Qing tries to intervene (presumably to destroy the sweeping implement that serves as a reminder of his past as a servant, before Xie Lian promoted him to his personal guard), but he’s rebuffed by the crew. 

The play depicts some of the key feats Xie Lian was renowned for as crown prince—civilians he saved from certain death, beasts he slayed, obstacles he heroically overcame. The stories are much grander than Xie Lian remembers, with liberties taken and embellishments made, and the pirates portray them with great humor and mirth as they improvise their way through. Xie Lian almost forgets he’s watching events that happened in his own life, as delightfully as the play is wrought. 

Even his companions seem rather engrossed in it, once Mu Qing stops shaking with anger over the broom. (He’ll never it forget it, though—of that Xie Lian is certain.)

It’s only toward the end, when Xie Lian suddenly wonders if his downfall will also be portrayed, that he tenses with anxiety. A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, providing a gentle weight to ground him. Of course Hua Cheng wouldn’t allow such a thing, Xie Lian thinks. It would be in poor taste.

The play ends with some jokes about how boring and stuffy it is to be a crown prince—nothing like the adventurous life of a pirate—that have the audience of pirates guffawing. Mu Qing rolls his eyes, the spell clearly broken, and stalks off. Feng Xin shrugs and follows him soon after.

Xie Lian feels a bit speechless now that it’s over. If he thinks about it too much, he’ll become horribly embarrassed—his face is red enough as is—so he settles on wondering how exactly Hua Cheng knows so much. (For surely he must be the mastermind behind this play?) He has been suspecting the captain hails from Xianle, or at least the Central Plains, though how he ended up all the way out here, Xie Lian is curious indeed. But of course he’ll wait until Hua Cheng is comfortable enough to tell him about his backstory—and if that takes forever, so be it.

“What did you think, gege?”

Xie Lian, suddenly aware that he’s still sitting in the equivalent of a throne on this ship, hastily rises to his feet. “San Lang, that was . . . I had no idea your crew was so skilled!” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to express his sincere enjoyment through his smile. 

Hua Cheng flicks a skeptical look at the actors, who are eagerly awaiting the reviews. “I suppose they were fine, but I rather thought the main character did most of the heavy lifting. He was a compelling protagonist, don’t you think?”

“I think you might be biased,” Xie Lian counters. He shakes his head, laughing, and steps forward to praise the crew members who had put on the show. Other pirates spring to their feet in the audience to inform him of their work on the props or the set, and he compliments them too. 

Xie Lian hasn’t been able to face his past self with anything other than aversion or despair in a long time. This little show, as silly as it was, is a gift he doesn’t quite know how to accept, but he’s immensely grateful for it. 

Through the crowd, his eyes meet Hua Cheng’s, and they both smile.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian wakes to an empty spot where Hua Cheng should be and the murmur of hushed voices in the other room. He half-sits up, wondering whether to go check on Hua Cheng or just return to sleep. The captain is probably busy if he’s out there talking to someone, he figures, so Xie Lian begins to lie back down when suddenly the voices grow louder.

“I’m telling you it’s time,” a gravelly voice says. He Xuan, if Xie Lian isn’t mistaken.

The other voice that Xie Lian hears he would know anywhere. “And I’m telling you it’s not.”

“If this is because of your crown prince—”

“That’s none of your business,” Hua Cheng says coldly. 

“How is it not my business when your infatuation with him is making you turn traitor on your oldest ally?” 

Hua Cheng had alluded once to knowing He Xuan for a long time, and the man is first mate, so it does make sense. What doesn’t make sense, of course, is whatever supposed betrayal Hua Cheng has engaged in. Xie Lian rubs his bleary eyes, as if clearer vision will help him hear the argument any better. He shouldn’t really be eavesdropping at all, but he doesn’t really have much of a choice (nor much desire to interrupt, considering he has seemingly already been brought into it). 

“I haven’t turned on you, you imbecile,” Hua Cheng hisses back. “I told you it’s just not the right time! We’re not prepared.”

“We could blow any ship out of the water if we wanted and you know it.” Xie Lian has rarely heard He Xuan speak with anything other than boredom and mild contempt, so he’s a bit taken aback by the venom coating his words. “You promised me, remember?”

“I remember,” Hua Cheng says tightly. “But—”

“I have stood by your side all these years and helped you build this ship into something worth respecting. I have only asked you for one thing in return, and I expect you to honor it now.”

There’s silence. Xie Lian can imagine Hua Cheng’s frustration, tongue poking into his cheek as he thinks—or perhaps seethes. He’s not the type to go back on his word, so whatever He Xuan is asking for must be serious. 

“We’ll need time to prepare,” the captain says finally.

“We don’t have time. And we’re ready now.” 

More silence. “If a single hair on his head is harmed by this, I will flay you alive.”

He Xuan scoffs. “Love really does turn men into fools.”

Xie Lian’s brow creases as he tries to make sense of this. He Xuan’s last words are throwing him off—why bring up love? Could they be talking about Hua Cheng’s beloved? Does He Xuan want to attack a ship that said beloved is currently on? That would be a risky venture indeed. 

Xie Lian has half a mind to climb out of bed and go pester Hua Cheng for answers, but he needn’t bother—Hua Cheng comes slinking back into the sleeping quarters, clearly expecting to find Xie Lian still asleep. When they make eye contact, Hua Cheng’s eye widens.

“Gege, I didn’t know you were awake.”

“Good morning, San Lang. What’s going on?”

Hua Cheng takes a seat on the edge of the bed, body facing away from Xie Lian with just his face tilted toward him. “Ah, He Xuan and I were having a minor disagreement about something he wants to do. I fear it would put the ship at risk, especially with so many . . . guests aboard.” 

“What does he want to do?” Xie Lian places a comforting hand on Hua Cheng’s shoulder, since the captain still seems a bit stressed following his talk with He Xuan. 

“Have you ever heard of The Water Tyrant, gege?” Xie Lian shakes his head, so Hua Cheng continues, voice turning scornful, “It’s the nickname for a merchant ship called God of the Water, helmed by Shi Wudu. He’s one of the richest men on this side of the world—and one of the cruelest. He Xuan has a, shall we say, rather personal vendetta against him.”

“I see,” Xie Lian says, taking this in. “So He Xuan wants to attack this merchant ship?”

“Yes.” Hua Cheng whips his body around to face him fully, taking Xie Lian’s hands in his own. “Gege, please believe me, I would not want to put you in a bad situation. The Green Lantern was different—we didn’t have a choice. You shouldn’t have to be involved in something like this, but He Xuan—” 

“San Lang,” he interrupts, squeezing the captain’s hands lightly for good measure, “there is no need to justify such things to me. If this is what you must do to honor your promise to your first mate, please do not hold back on my account. I can handle it, you know.”

“I know you can,” Hua Cheng says. “But you shouldn’t be dragged into this mess—and it will be messy—”

“Then so be it,” Xie Lian says firmly. “I will make my own assessment of the situation, but I would like to know what exactly this Shi Wudu character did to warrant He Xuan’s ire.”

And so Hua Cheng gives him as thorough a recap as he can in their limited time, with He Xuan already out on the deck preparing the crew for battle. 

In short, Shi Wudu used his money and influence to frame He Xuan for fraudulent activities that he himself had committed, and the years He Xuan spent in prison as a youth were not kind to him. When he got out, he found that Shi Wudu had orchestrated the deaths of He Xuan’s family to prevent them from trying to clear He Xuan’s name. He’d also discovered that he was far from the only person Shi Wudu had used as a stepping stone to further himself, and some had met even worse fates than He Xuan. But, still, the once-aspiring scholar had no prospects for income or any path forward until he found Hua Cheng. And he’d never, ever forgotten what Shi Wudu had done.

“Thank you for telling me,” Xie Lian says when Hua Cheng is done. The story makes him more curious to delve into the captain’s own past, but that will come in time. “If He Xuan seeks justice, it wouldn’t be right for me to stand in his way.”

“It won’t be pretty,” Hua Cheng says grimly. 

It’s a warning, but not one Xie Lian needs. He gets the feeling that Hua Cheng is reluctant to show him the realities of his life as a pirate, perhaps fearing censure. But Xie Lian is not a delicate person, nor does he hold any judgment of how Hua Cheng has built his life, and he intends to show Hua Cheng that. 

This isn’t Xie Lian’s fight, so he opts to remain on The Crimson Flower this time. Hua Cheng had seemed relieved when Xie Lian told him of his plan: to stay back and protect the fishermen still on board, not wanting them to get embroiled in this conflict unnecessarily. It’d taken long enough to convince those they’d rescued that they weren’t being taken captive by pirates when they first picked them up (which had annoyed He Xuan to the point of suggesting they just leave them all to drown). They hadn’t yet had a chance to deliver them back to land, but the fishermen had since calmed down slightly with Xie Lian’s reassurances. 

Feng Xin and Mu Qing similarly hang back from the fight, obviously unwilling to assist with this particular act of piracy, but Xie Lian mostly loses track of them in the course of the battle. He guards the stairs leading to where the fishermen are hiding, allowing himself a decent view of what’s happening on God of the Water. 

It’s clear that He Xuan has been planning this confrontation for a long, long time. Whatever defenses the merchant ship is able to put up—impressive as they might be—are still overwhelmed by The Crimson Flower’s firepower and sheer tenacity. It’s quick and brutal, but from this vantage point it doesn’t look as bloody as Xie Lian feared (and if it had gotten to that point, he planned to step in). He should’ve trusted Hua Cheng’s intentions more; his forces are mostly there to keep Shi Wudu’s own crew from interfering in the matter, not to slaughter them all. 

The merchant ship doesn’t stand much of a chance. From what Hua Cheng said, Xie Lian gathers that God of the Water relies on its wealth and reputation as a buffer from attacks, with most pirates not bothering with a ship much more fortified than most, even if substantial loot awaits them there. He Xuan had bided his time for years waiting to be strong enough to ensure certain victory over Shi Wudu.

His efforts aren’t in vain, if the decapitated head he brings back on board is any indication. 

Xie Lian recoils when he sees it, not expecting such a gruesome trophy. 

“You are not mounting that on my ship,” Hua Cheng is snapping at his first mate when Xie Lian walks up to them.

He has wondered how He Xuan will look upon returning—if he’ll seem at all mirthful for the first time since Xie Lian has met him—but He Xuan is as blank-faced and difficult to read as ever. “Why not? Other pirates do it.”

“If other pirates gouged each other’s eyes out for sport, would you want to start that convention on board too?” Hua Cheng’s face is twisted with disgust, but when he registers Xie Lian behind him, it smoothes out. His eye sweeps Xie Lian for sign of injury, as Xie Lian does the same to him in return, and they’re both satisfied by what they find. “He Xuan, deal with that now.” 

He Xuan shrugs, uncaring, and tosses the head overboard. The body must be back on the other ship. Xie Lian offers a brief and silent funeral prayer for the deceased man, since he’s not sure anyone else will, and it seems only right. He doesn’t know if it was right for Shi Wudu to die, but then it wasn’t right for He Xuan’s family to die either, nor was it right for whatever befell the other people Shi Wudu hurt.

Xie Lian had been raised on the principle that two wrongs don’t make a right, but it seems laughably straightforward in the face of real world affairs. He once believed deeply in his own righteousness, but he lived in a simpler world then, one of his own making. Enemies were clearly demarcated, and any problem could be solved peacefully in the end.

Xie Lian still believes in peace, but he doesn’t know what that means sometimes. Is Shi Wudu’s demise in service of peace, if he can no longer inflict harm on others? Does the pursuit of justice need to be nonviolent in order to be legitimate? Does the death of Shi Wudu fall upon Xie Lian’s shoulders if he didn’t intervene to prevent it? 

He really doesn’t know anything anymore. They’re not the kinds of questions he can easily answer with the life experience he currently has, but he hopes to one day know himself and the world better. 

“Gege,” Hua Cheng says softly, “I’m sorry you had to see that. Please forgive me.”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian returns. “When will you learn that there’s no need for forgiveness between us?” 

“It might take me a little longer,” Hua Cheng says. His huff of air is almost a laugh, but his expression is still grave. “Are you really alright with all this? It’s fine if you’re not.”

“Alright?” Xie Lian contemplates this notion, unsure quite what to say. “I would say so. I don’t enjoy the sight of death, but I also won’t pretend to understand what it’s like to live with as much resentment as He Xuan bears. And, to be quite honest, a quick death seems a kinder fate than other paths He Xuan could’ve chosen for his vengeance.” Xie Lian could not have stood by and watched someone be tortured; he knows that much. 

“If you’re disgusted by me—by all of us—you can say so. I’ll understand.”

Xie Lian isn’t expecting such forlorn words from the captain; it’s as if Hua Cheng hasn’t heard any of what Xie Lian just said. “San Lang,” he says, as gently as possible with the firm tone he takes, “I am not, nor have I ever been, disgusted by you. Why would you think such a thing?” Even as he asks the question, the answer seems rather obvious to him: because that’s how Hua Cheng feels about himself.

“Pirates don’t follow the same code of morals as you must be used to. I don’t want you to force yourself to be okay with such things if that’s not how you truly feel.” His voice lowers. “I want you to feel comfortable here, but I don’t know how to balance that with who we are, what we do.” 

“But I do feel comfortable here,” Xie Lian protests. “I’m no better than any of you just because I was raised in a palace. If I objected to anything here, wouldn’t I come to you? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Hua Cheng’s brows furrow slightly at the invocation of friendship, but he nods immediately. “Of course we are.”

“Then let’s trust each other.”

Hua Cheng laughs, a bit more genuinely this time. “You make it sound so easy, gege.”

“Well, isn’t it? I like you, and I hope you feel a similar warmth toward me. Let’s just be as we are.”

“If you say so.” Hua Cheng grins, and the rest of the worry on his face dissipates. 

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice says, “not to interrupt what’s obviously a tender moment, but can we maybe focus on me for a second?”

Xie Lian leans around Hua Cheng, bemused, and finds a woman tied to the mast. “Who’s this?” 

“No one important,” He Xuan says, walking back up to them now that the ship is on its way again, leaving God of the Water floating motionless behind them with its shellshocked crew. He’s holding an apple in one hand and a knife in the over. 

“Is this how you talk about all of your hostages?” the woman says, clearly trying her hardest to affect a veneer of bravery. “Rather rude.”

Xie Lian looks to Hua Cheng. “Why do we have a hostage?”

Hua Cheng looks similarly taken aback. “I . . . couldn’t say. He Xuan, why do we have a hostage?”

He Xuan slices off a piece of his apple and shrugs. “I wanted Shi Wudu’s final sensation to be fear, so I took his sister before killing him.”

“Oh, perfect,” the woman says hysterically. “So my brother’s dead and I’m just collateral damage?” 

“Pretty much, yeah.” He Xuan eyes her with disdain and starts to walk away.

“Um,” Xie Lian says. He has no idea what to say to this likely grieving hostage. 

Her eyes are wide and fearful as the attempts at courage begin to slip. “What’s going to happen to me? Are you going to kill me?”

“We could,” He Xuan calls over his shoulder, and the woman shudders.

“No, no, we really couldn’t,” Xie Lian says, waving his hands emphatically. “No one’s going to kill you, I promise.”

“Oh,” she says. “Well, can you untie me?”

Hua Cheng raises his eyebrows. “Are you going to kill us if we do?”

“How would I even do that?” The woman sounds morose. Xie Lian doesn’t blame her, since her captive experience on this ship is already proving to be much more fraught than his own. “He broke my fan.” Xie Lian resists the urge to inquire further about this fan, presumably a weaponized sort, because now is not the time to indulge his interest in weaponry. 

“Of course we’ll free you.” Xie Lian looks expectantly at Hua Cheng, who unsheathes his scimitar without another word and hands it to him. Xie Lian uses it to sever the rope binding her to the post. “Apologies for the whole, um, situation. The ship is headed to the Southern Isles, so we can let you go there.”

“Oh,” the woman says, surprised her request was actually heeded. “Well, I’d say thank you, but . . . I don’t think that would be entirely appropriate given the circumstances.”

All things considered, that seems fair.

“What’s your name?” he asks kindly. “I’m Xie Lian.”

“Wait, you’re Xie Lian? Crown prince of Xianle?” 

“Formerly, yes,” Xie Lian says, able to repress his flinch. He feels Hua Cheng’s hand come to rest on his shoulder and finds himself leaning into the touch. “Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t recognize you . . . ?”

“I’m Shi Qingxuan,” she says, suddenly animated. “I was expecting you at my residence sometime in the coming months.”

Xie Lian frowns. “For what purpose, exactly?”

“Didn’t you need help reclaiming your throne?”

The bluntness of the question makes Xie Lian suck in a sharp breath. “I think you’re mistaken. I have no need for anything of the sort.”

“But—?” Wrinkles form in Shi Qingxuan’s forehead. “But we’ve been in contact about it. I thought you needed help, and resources. That’s why I was on my—” Her voice suddenly cracks, as she represses what may very well be a sob. “My brother’s ship. When he learned what I was trying to get involved in, he forced me to come aboard so he could keep an eye on me. But I just wanted to help!” Shi Qingxuan looks dangerously close to crying now. Whatever shellshock was regulating her emotions up until now seems to be giving way to grief.

Xie Lian shakes his head, bewildered. “I think there’s been a grave misunderstanding here. I am not the one who’s been corresponding with you, nor do I have any desire to return to Xianle for my throne or anything else.” 

“You should ask your companions, gege,” Hua Cheng mutters. “Aren’t they the ones who wanted to go to the Southern Isles?”

Xie Lian’s lips tighten. He’d been thinking the same thing, but he doesn’t particularly want to face the argument they’re about to have over this. “Yeah, I think we—”

“Your Highness, we need to talk,” Feng Xin interrupts from behind Xie Lian. His face doesn’t give away how much of the conversation he’s managed to hear, and behind him Mu Qing looks even more stone-faced.

“Yes, I suppose we do,” Xie Lian says with a sigh, gesturing them to come along. Hua Cheng starts to follow too, but Mu Qing makes an angry noise.

“Not him,” he snaps.

Hua Cheng’s mask of bored contempt flickers slightly, revealing a tiny hint of fury. “Gege—”

“San Lang, it’s okay. I’ll handle this,” Xie Lian says. His voice comes out low and soothing, and a beat later he feels embarrassed for having spoken like that in front of the other two. 

Hua Cheng nods tersely, eyeing Mu Qing with distrust, but doesn’t take another step forward. 

“Well, this is awkward,” a teary Shi Qingxuan says. 

“Your Highness, Hua Cheng is dangerous.” 

That’s the first thing Feng Xin says when they’ve put enough distance between them and the rest of the crew. He keeps his voice low enough to avoid being overheard by anyone who happens to walk by. 

“I know you think so, but he’s really not that bad,” Xie Lian protests.

Mu Qing pulls a stack of papers out of his jacket pocket and shoves them at Xie Lian. “Just look.”

Xie Lian takes the papers, unfolding them carefully and staring at what he finds on the first page. “Oh,” he says. “That’s me.” It is indeed a drawing of Xie Lian, and it looks recent. Did Hua Cheng draw this? Xie Lian didn’t know he was such a skilled artist. The rendering is beautiful—almost so much so that Xie Lian thinks he can’t possibly look like that. Or maybe it’s just that he can’t imagine Hua Cheng seeing him like that. The care with which he’s drawn these lines, his eye for detail—

“What do you look so pleased for?” Mu Qing demands, jolting Xie Lian out of his thoughts of flattery. He gestures impatiently at the stack of papers. “Flip through the rest of them.”

They’re all drawings of Xie Lian, as it turns out. As Xie Lian gets further into the pile, the drawings seem older. Not only is the paper yellower and more frail, but the subject of the drawings becomes younger, decked out in the outfittings of a crown prince. It’s Xie Lian as he was a long, long time ago. But why—?

“Now you see?” Feng Xin says earnestly. “Your Highness, there’s no telling how long Hua Cheng has been obsessed with you. He’s a madman! It’s not safe for you to be so close to him. We don’t know what he wants—”

“Where did you find these?” Xie Lian interrupts. 

“Where do you think?” Mu Qing sneers. “In his desk, of course. It wasn’t hard to break the lock.”

They must have broken in while everyone was preoccupied with Shi Wudu’s ship. Xie Lian knew they didn’t like Hua Cheng much, but he didn’t realize they’d been planning something like this. He doesn’t quite know what to say to them. “Well—”

“He’s clearly fucking insane! And a liar! But who would expect any better from a lying, cheating, murdering pirate—?”

“Well,” Hua Cheng interrupts. His voice has a serrated edge to it. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

Chapter Text

Mu Qing snatches back the papers from Xie Lian as Feng Xin takes a protective step in front of Xie Lian. 

“I wasn’t done looking at those,” Xie Lian starts to protest. But then he takes in the cold blankness of Hua Cheng’s face. “San Lang—”

“Why are you still calling him San Lang?” Mu Qing snaps. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Xie Lian tries to walk toward Hua Cheng, hoping to reassure him somehow, but the other two block his path. Feng Xin even seizes his arm to keep him in place. 

“Take your hands off of him now, or the last thing you ever see will be the bottom of the ocean. You can greet the kraken while you’re down there.” 

Feng Xin does unhand Xie Lian, at least, which is a step in the right direction. “The kraken can’t possibly exist, right?” he mutters to Mu Qing, who jabs him with his elbow. 

Xie Lian laughs nervously, unsure what to do to stop the situation from escalating. His companions only to seem to be growing more upset—though that’s putting it a bit lightly, perhaps—and Hua Cheng does look about ready to toss them overboard, which would be unfortunate.

“Gege, let us talk privately—”

“He is NOT going anywhere with you!”

“Captain, everything alright?” a crew member shouts. 

“We’re fine!” Xie Lian calls back, since Hua Cheng looks too furious to acknowledge anything else. “That’s quite enough,” he says in a lower but no less firm voice to Mu Qing and Feng Xin. They look back at him with twin scowls, a protest ready on both their lips. “Why were you searching San Lang’s quarters anyway? That’s incredibly rude.” 

“RUDE—?” They speak in unison, as if outrage has linked them to the same telepathic network.

Mu Qing throws an arm out toward the rest of the ship. “WHAT DO MANNERS MATTER ON A PIRATE SHIP?” 

“I’m waiting for an explanation,” Xie Lian says, crossing his arms. 

“WE DON’T OWE YOU ONE!” Mu Qing insists, at the same time Feng Xin says, “IT WAS MU QING’S IDEA!” The psychic link appears to have shattered.

“Mu Qing?” Xie Lian prompts. When the man clamps his lips shut and glares, Xie Lian turns to Feng Xin instead. 

Feng Xin scratches the back of his neck, having lost some steam in selling out his co-conspirator. “Well, uh, we thought something was surely amiss given Hua Cheng’s interest in you—”

“Is it so strange for someone to take an interest in me?” Xie Lian asks, a bit perplexed.

“Every word you say brings you closer to me summoning several more krakens,” Hua Cheng says to Feng Xin.

“There’s definitely no way he can summon them, right?” Feng Xin hisses at Mu Qing. This earns him another shove. “Your Highness, I’m not implying that you aren’t a very interesting person, but for an unsavory character such as this to befriend you was a concern—”

“San Lang is perfectly savory.”

This statement proves too much for Mu Qing. “He runs one of the most notorious criminal enterprises in the world! Do you have any idea how many ships he’s raided? How many people he’s killed?”

The captain snorts. “Do you?”

A beat of silence. “I don’t need to know the exact number. Your Highness, if he’s so above suspicion, why don’t you ask him where he got that bead he wears in his hair?”

Xie Lian glances over to Hua Cheng, whose jaw is clenched. He runs his eyes over the captain’s hair, finding a thin braid on the right side tied with a red bead. 

“Don’t you recognize it?” Mu Qing presses.

Xie Lian’s brows knit. “Should I?”

Mu Qing looks even angrier now, his eyes rolling high enough to greet the heavens. Xie Lian almost feels sorry for his lack of recollection, but then Mu Qing has always had a better memory for such things than either Xie Lian or Feng Xin. “That’s the earring you lost at the festival where you rui—where you stopped the parade.”

“Oh,” Xie Lian says, nonplussed. He remembers the festival of course, and that fateful parade, if only because of the completely unreasonable scolding he received from it long after it was over. 

The annual festival was a matter of great pride in Xianle, intended to usher in a new year of prosperity. Xie Lian had been only a child then, really, but he’d left his place in the procession to rescue a boy from being trampled by some paradegoers who had gotten too rowdy. The entire parade had come to a screeching halt as Xie Lian parted the crowd to offer his hand to the boy and help him up. Doing so had endeared him to the people, he remembered, but not to the royal establishment. 

He’d made sure the boy was okay, offering him some water and telling him to come to the palace and ask for the crown prince if he needed anything else. As he turned to leave, the boy had called after him and held out a tiny piece of jewelry in his hand. It was Xie Lian’s earring, a red coral pearl, that must’ve fallen out as he made his way through the crowd. Xie Lian had smiled and told him to just keep it; what use did he have for such a thing, anyway? He’d figured the boy could sell it and buy something more useful. 

As Xie Lian gazes at Hua Cheng now, his lips part in surprise. “It’s you,” he says softly. Hua Cheng doesn’t break eye contact, but he also doesn’t give anything away as they stare at each other. “You kept it,” Xie Lian says in wonder. 

What does it mean, that Hua Cheng had held on to something like this for so long? 

“Why do you look happy?” Mu Qing shoves Feng Xin. “WHY DOES HE LOOK HAPPY?”

“HOW SHOULD I KNOW?” Feng Xin shoves him back. 

“Why would I not be happy, to see one of my citizens grow up so well?” 

Mu Qing looks about ready to faint from exasperation. Feng Xin grimaces. Hua Cheng chokes on a startled laugh. 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN GREW UP WELL? HE’S A PIRATE!” Feng Xin shakes his head in disbelief but manages to calm his voice. “Your Highness, be reasonable. Why would a sane person hold on to your jewelry for this long? Why does he have so many drawings of you? When Mu Qing saw the pearl up close, we realized there was something fishy going on, and of course we had to conduct our own investigation. Who knows what nefarious purpose he kidnapped you for?”

“What do you know about anything?” Hua Cheng says. “I’m not discussing anything in front of you.”

Xie Lian of course wants to talk more with Hua Cheng about this, mostly out of curiosity about how he got from Xianle to The Crimson Flower, and what the bead means to him, but first he has a matter to address with the other two.

“If you’re both done maligning San Lang, perhaps we can move on to what I wanted to bring up to you. Why is Shi Qingxuan under the impression that I want the throne of Xianle back?”

Feng Xin exchanges a look with Mu Qing, who remains stone-faced. “Where did you hear that from?” Feng Xin says finally.

“From Shi Qingxuan. She’s right over there.” Xie Lian points. “Is she telling the truth?”

“She’s—really? Uh, well, we were doing what we thought was best,” Feng Xin says, sailing right past the question. “Your Highness, what happened in Xianle was wrong—we both know that—and we have a chance to set it right if we just got some resources on our side. Shi Qingxuan knows people all over; she can help us—”

“Feng Xin, have I given you any indication that a return to Xianle is something I desire?” 

Feng Xin looks to his co-conspirator again, but Mu Qing just stares straight ahead, declining to engage him. “Your Highness, you’ve been so miserable since—”

“Of course I’ve been miserable,” Xie Lian retorts, frustration coating his words. “What happened to my city—to my family, to almost everyone I knew—is a burden I’ll live with every day for the rest of my life. I’m still learning how to live with it, and I expect I will be for quite some time. What makes you think that attempting to take back my throne would improve anything?”

“Don’t you feel a responsibility for your kingdom?” Mu Qing says. “A true ruler would fight for their people, not just . . .” He trails off with a meaningful look at their surroundings. 

“Then I’m not a true ruler,” Xie Lian says in a clipped voice. “And I’m not so arrogant as to think my people would be better off getting dragged into another war just to have me as king.” He doesn’t possess the fire for revenge that burned within He Xuan, nor the glorious self-righteousness of his younger self. He still gets news from Xianle now and again, and the kingdom seems to have reached a fragile peace. Disrupting it would only mean more bloodshed, in service of a cause Xie Lian cannot justify and in a war he might not necessarily win, even with the right resources. 

He understands why Feng Xin and Mu Qing insist on grasping at these straws, even if he can’t abide by it. Before the war they were rising to the highest ranks of a kingdom, their futures just about secured, and then suddenly they were set just as adrift as Xie Lian. They each have the skillset and intelligence to find their way in the world, but first they have to be willing to relinquish the past. 

There’s no path back to Xianle; they can only find a way forward now.

“But—” Feng Xin cuts himself off. “What now, then?”

Xie Lian sighs. He suddenly feels centuries old but no closer to an answer to that very question. “I don’t know.”

Xie Lian leaves his companions to their thoughts for now, not content to make Hua Cheng wait to speak his mind any longer. The captain leads the way back to his quarters, offering Xie Lian a seat on the couch like he did the first day they met.

If anything, the atmosphere feels more awkward now than it did that day, but Xie Lian isn’t entirely sure why. The confrontation with Mu Qing has clearly rattled the captain, but he treats Xie Lian with no less care despite his stiff posture and even stiffer expression.

“So,” Xie Lian begins when it appears Hua Cheng isn’t about to start anytime soon, “it seems we’ve met before.”

Hua Cheng’s eye is fixed on his hands, but the words draw his attention. “Yes.”

“It’s good to see you again, then.”

This at least encourages a small smile. “I always hoped our paths would cross again.”

“Well, I’ve told you my side of it already. How did you end up here, San Lang?” Xie Lian can roughly guess, but he’d rather hear it directly from the source. 

“It’s not very interesting.”

“It is to me,” he says softly.

“Very well.”

Hua Cheng begins to recount a brief history, breezing through the facts of his life as if they aren’t consequential. But they are to Xie Lian—he wants to collect every piece and examine them for clues as to what made Hua Cheng into the man he is today. He wants to hold them close to his heart, if Hua Cheng will let him.

Xie Lian doesn’t get the impression that Hua Cheng’s childhood was a happy one, but he doesn’t offer many descriptive details. Xie Lian asks some questions as he talks to gently prompt him. Hua Cheng sounds bored as he recites his parentage—his father a Xianle noble, his mother of foreign descent—and how, shortly after the festival where they’d met, his mother had taken him and left the Central Plains, bringing him to her homeland. Hua Cheng doesn’t mention his father’s role in this, but Xie Lian would guess he considered Hua Cheng illegitimate, as nobles often do when they don’t want to take responsibility for a child, so he was likely relieved to see them go. 

The way Hua Cheng speaks about his mother is detached, but his voice does shake slightly when he mentions how she believed there was evil inside him that needed to be cured. The shamans she consulted from her native land predicted he would bring disaster to the world if this were not remedied, and they suggested a number of methods to cleanse his spirit. The very last cure they tried was removing Hua Cheng’s eye—supposedly the physical manifestation of his fate, since it was a different color from his other eye. 

Hua Cheng may sound indifferent—disdainful, even—but Xie Lian feels physically sick at the thought of the child he met enduring such an atrocity at the behest of the one person supposed to protect him. The eyepatch he wears seems so much more sinister now. “Your mother allowed that?” he manages to ask. He knows superstition is a powerful thing, but he just can’t imagine giving in to such an awful manifestation of it. 

Hua Cheng’s laugh is humorless; it’s a sound Xie Lian is starting to find unbearable. “That woman helped tie me down.”

There aren’t any words to adequately express his horror, so Xie Lian just takes Hua Cheng’s hand and squeezes it. 

After the loss of his eye, Hua Cheng managed to escape from his mother, probably fueled by sheer desperation. They hadn’t been living too far from the sea, then, so Hua Cheng had stowed away on a pirate ship, eventually been discovered and put to work by the crew, and begun a new life at sea. He’d worked his way through the ranks to eventually seize control of the ship and make it his own—and the rest is history.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Xie Lian says. He thinks about the bead Hua Cheng has held on to for so long, the drawings of a young crown prince, and feels almost unbearably sad that one small moment for Xie Lian was probably one of the only times Hua Cheng experienced any kindness when he was young. 

“It’s a bit disappointing, isn’t it, with all the mystique gone?” Hua Cheng smiles, but there’s a tension to it.

“Don’t say silly things. Didn’t I already tell you that I’d like you regardless?”

Hua Cheng has relaxed more and more into the couch during the course of their conversation, but Xie Lian is noticing now that he’s also been leaning more and more toward Xie Lian. Given how Xie Lian has similarly found his way closer to Hua Cheng through some sort of subconscious magnetism, they’re sitting much closer together now than they were at the start of the conversation. 

“Gege,” Hua Cheng says, but he doesn’t continue.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian returns. “You know, it’s really quite remarkable that you’ve come this far, with such hardships in your way.”

Hua Cheng stares at him for a moment that seems to span a millennium. “I’ve lived longer than I ever thought I would,” he says finally, “but I have yet to find any meaning in it.”

“Oh.” Xie Lian needs a moment to process the implications of such a haunting statement, when Hua Cheng likely hasn’t yet finished his third decade of life. “Well, as it turns out, my life has been somewhat lacking in meaning as well. Perhaps we can find it together.”

Hua Cheng shifts closer still, and Xie Lian suddenly becomes very, very aware that their hands are still clasped together. “Or perhaps we already have.”

“Maybe we have.” Xie Lian tries to chuckle, but it comes out sounding breathless. “San Lang, a pirate’s life is quite exciting, isn’t it?” 

“It can be. But I would give it up for the right person.”

“Ah, how funny. I was just thinking I could enjoy it for quite a while with the right person by my side.”

“Gege.” Hua Cheng’s voice is pained, but his eye has a fierceness to it that traps Xie Lian’s gaze. “Do you really mean that?”

“I do.”

“Gege,” Hua Cheng says again, but he doesn’t seem to know how to continue, so Xie Lian does it for him.

“San Lang, would it be terribly forward for me to ask if I can kiss you?”

Hua Cheng’s laugh this time is positively giddy, and the sound blankets Xie Lian in euphoria. “If you’re going to be a pirate, shouldn’t you learn to take what you want?”

And so Xie Lian does.

The pirate captain may have sounded smug, but there’s no mistaking the vulnerability on his face when Xie Lian cups his cheek and draws him forward. Hua Cheng moves with even the lightest of touches, eager to follow his lead, and Xie Lian feels a bit awed to hold such a fragile moment in his hands. 

He can’t help but think back to that absurd conversation where Hua Cheng had suggested learning resuscitation methods and wonders whether they could’ve somehow been doing this for much longer. But as his lips brush against Hua Cheng’s, featherlight at first and then with a little more pressure, his mind goes a bit hazy, and he’s unable to think about anything except for the tingling warmth spreading through him. 

“You know I’m going to stay, don’t you?”

Mu Qing doesn’t look at him. He stares out at the docks as The Crimson Flower draws closer to port. They’ve finally reached their intended destination. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised you’d choose him over us,” he says sourly.

“I’m choosing me,” Xie Lian corrects. “Don’t we all deserve a chance at a new life?”

“Yours doesn’t have to be on a pirate ship—but whatever. If this is the last we’ll see of each other—”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Xie Lian says, deciding it’s acceptable to remain earnest even in the face of Mu Qing’s scorn.

“—then I have some opinions I might as well share,” Mu Qing continues like he hasn’t heard him. “I’ve held my tongue long enough. First of all, I don’t think you’re more skilled than me just because you were royalty; you may have had all the prestige, but I worked just as hard if not more and was just as good.”

Xie Lian blinks a few times before replying. “Okay?”

“Furthermore, I think you only do good deeds because you enjoy the flattery and praise they garner, and that must be the reason why you made me your charity case. I think you just want to seem sympathetic and kind, and frankly that’s pretty arrogant.”

He looks expectantly at Xie Lian, who feels more than a little nonplussed at this point. “Sorry, but is it really necessary to say these things to me?” He is wholly unprepared to delve into the depths of Mu Qing’s innermost thoughts.

Mu Qing rolls his eyes, which admittedly does make Xie Lian feel a bit hopeless until he says, “Well, you should also know that, against all odds, I . . . admire you, I suppose.”

A ship caught in a hurricane would probably offer a less turbulent ride than this conversation, Xie Lian thinks. He has no idea what to respond to this, so he just watches with fascination as Mu Qing forces himself through the rest of what he wants to say.

“I can admit that you’re a better person than me,” he says stiffly. “You’re . . . rather amazing, actually.” He sounds like he’s being held at swordpoint again. “And I know you hate me or pity me or whatever it may be, but I guess I always really wanted to be your friend.”

“What?” Xie Lian says, incredulity raising his pitch a little.

“What?” Mu Qing says defensively. “I’m not going to repeat any of that.”

Xie Lian shakes his head, bewildered to finally be at the root of the tension between him and Mu Qing, only to find it makes no sense at all. “How can you say that I hate you, or merely pity you? I’ve always thought we were friends!”

Mu Qing is surprised speechless for a moment, but he does manage to recover some of his composure. “It seems I may have been mistaken, then,” he says. “Ignore everything I just said. And I’m . . . sorry, I guess.”

Xie Lian can’t help but let a chuckle slip out, a combination of confusion and relief. “Let’s put the past behind us then, shall we? And I’m sorry too, for any role I played in making you feel that way.”

“Does it matter now?” Mu Qing’s voice is gruff. “We’re parting ways anyway.”

“We can stay in touch, you know.” Xie Lian’s lips twitch in an effort to suppress another laugh. “You can always visit.”

Mu Qing casts a disgusted look around The Crimson Flower. “I am never setting foot on this godforsaken wreck ever again.”

“I’ll visit you, then.”

“Visit Mu Qing? But why?” Feng Xin’s voice cuts through their conversation, which feels like it has reached its natural end anyway; Xie Lian doubts there was much more to say at this point, but he feels a weight lifted from his shoulders. “Your Highness, it’d be a better use of your time to watch grass grow.”

“It’s not yet too late for me to push you overboard.”

“It will be if I push you first!”

Xie Lian sighs, wondering if distance will make him miss their fighting. Crazier things have happened, he supposes.

Xie Lian had already talked with Feng Xin before his rather enlightening conversation with Mu Qing, and Feng Xin had immediately suggested he stay behind too, if he couldn’t convince Xie Lian to come with him wherever he plans to go now. Xie Lian had gently declined, knowing that Feng Xin cannot flourish here the way Xie Lian believes he can if he lets himself. It had taken some convincing, but Feng Xin must’ve known deep down that this was a natural point for their paths to diverge, because he eventually acquiesced.

Now, with his goodbyes said to both of them, all he can do is watch them disembark. 

Shi Qingxuan has already left the ship—as quickly as possible, probably desperate to get away before they could change their minds about freeing her—and Xie Lian thinks it would’ve been nice if they met under entirely different circumstances. Maybe their paths will meet again someday.

Mu Qing and Feng Xin make their way along the dock, and when they get to the end of it they exchange a brief look before each choosing a different direction. Xie Lian smiles, because something tells him they’ll find their way back to each other against both their wills. 

“Good riddance,” Hua Cheng says, coming up behind him. His arms encircle Xie Lian.

Xie Lian spins in his grasp to look up at him, letting his hands settle on Hua Cheng’s arms. A few of the crew members nearby let out a cheer that is immediately silenced by whatever look Hua Cheng sends their way. 

“It’s a little sad to see them go,” Xie Lian admits. 

“Do you wish you were going with them?” Hua Cheng searches his face, visibly relaxing when Xie Lian shakes his head. 

“My place is here now, by your side. But they stood by me for longer than most people would. I’ll miss them. Speaking of which, how do pirates normally send mail?”

Hua Cheng shrugs. “There hasn’t been anyone I’ve wanted to contact. How about this: we’ll get a parrot and train it specially to deliver letters.”

“Can you really do that?”

“Sure,” Hua Cheng says easily, and Xie Lian really can’t tell if he’s joking. “I’ll teach it creative insults to say to Mu Qing when it drops off your correspondence.”

“Mu Qing might strangle the parrot,” Xie Lian points out.

“Mm. That would be a shame. We’ll teach it self-defense as well.”

Xie Lian tilts his head. “Let’s keep that idea as a work in progress.”

“Sure, gege.”

“San Lang?”

“Yes?”

“Would it be ridiculous to say I’m glad your crew kidnapped me?”

“Yes.” A pause. “Would it be ridiculous to say you’re my favorite hostage?”

“Quite. That’s something else we should discuss—are you in the business of taking hostages often?”

The captain sighs. “Not by choice. My crew keeps kidnapping people to try to impress me, can you believe it?” He casts a disparaging look around at the various pirates watching them with great interest. “You’ve fallen in with some seedy characters, gege.”

“Somehow I think I’ll manage.”

With the breeze rustling his hair and Hua Cheng’s arms wrapped around him, Xie Lian can feel possibilities stretching out before him like they haven’t in a long while. He thinks Hua Cheng feels them too. 

“You know,” Xie Lian murmurs then, leaning closer, “only after I met you did I rediscover that it’s such a simple thing to be happy.”

He didn’t know he still had the power to surprise Hua Cheng with his feelings, but the captain blinks back at him, his lips parting. “Gege,” he says, somewhat unsteadily, “I will do everything in my power to make you happy until the day I die—beyond then, even. I hope you believe me.”

“I do, and I promise the same.”

“Oh, just get on with it and kiss him already, captain!” someone yells. Without tearing his gaze from Xie Lian, Hua Cheng whips a knife out of his sleeve and throws it at the pirate who spoke. It narrowly misses.

“Was that really necessary?” Xie Lian chides, but there’s no force behind it; he’s grown rather amused by the way Hua Cheng treats his crew with the pretense of hostility. Beneath the veneer Xie Lian can sense a genuine care for those who report to him, even if he sometimes shows it in unconventional ways.

“Yes. He was bothering you.”

“He wasn’t, really. And you can’t just throw a knife at everyone who bothers me,” Xie Lian protests.

Hua Cheng lifts one of his eyebrows. “Of course I can. Why do you think I carry so many?”

“This is a losing argument,” warns He Xuan, who has just emerged from below deck. “Crazy was apparently what you wanted, so that’s what you’ve got.” 

Hua Cheng turns to appraise his first mate, who has a bag slung over one shoulder. “Where are you off to?” 

“I haven’t a clue. I did what I set out to do, so I suppose now I’ll see what else is out there for me.”

Hua Cheng shrugs. “Suit yourself. I have a vastly superior first mate now anyway.”

Xie Lian glances around, wondering who Hua Cheng would trust enough to take He Xuan’s place, before he realizes both men are looking at him. 

“My condolences to you,” He Xuan says to him. “Hua Cheng is uniquely vexing to deal with, but he’s not half as intimidating as he pretends to be.”

“Will you still be saying that when I stab you?” Hua Cheng mutters darkly. “Get off my ship,” he adds in a louder voice. 

“It was nice to meet you,” Xie Lian says sheepishly, even though he’s not sure whether he thinks that statement is true. “Good luck with—well, with whatever.”

“Thanks.” He Xuan rolls his eyes, gives Hua Cheng a sarcastic little salute, and then he’s gone.

Hua Cheng doesn’t bother to watch him go. “Now that we’ve gotten rid of that killjoy, the real fun begins.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

Hua Cheng leans closer to whisper. “We can practice your resuscitation technique, if you’re amenable.”

Xie Lian feels a bit scandalized to talk of such things while surrounded by the crew—their crew, in fact—so he just offers a placid smile, ignoring his reddening ears. “We should practice your penmanship first, don’t you think?”

“Gege,” Hua Cheng complains, but Xie Lian has already slipped out of his grip to find the necessary supplies for such a lesson. “You can’t be serious!”

“You’ll thank me when He Xuan can actually read the letters you write him!”

“I’m not writing that bastard a single word.”

“Well, then you can use the skills I teach you to write me a very nice letter as a keepsake,” Xie Lian says, wanting to tease Hua Cheng but already embarrassed by his own words.

Hua Cheng for once doesn’t have a retort to this. He even looks rather taken with the thought.

“Alright,” he says. “Lead the way.”

And so Xie Lian does.