Archive of Our Own ^beta

Today 11:32

I hear congratulations are in order. Engaged to Crimson Rain. Impressive.

Xie Lian’s phone vibrated on the countertop. The text was from a number he didn’t recognise. He frowned as he wrapped a bouquet of white peonies in brown paper and wiped the sweat from his brow. The air was dense with heat and the smell of jasmine. 

The slanted windows dripped with humidity, and hanging crystals scattered rainbows across the sun-dappled wood floors. The small shop filled with a symphony of cicadas, so loud, Xie Lian could hardly hear his own thoughts. 

Banyue rang in the customer, a smiling granny with fuschia lipstick on her teeth. She leaned across the counter and pinched Xie Lian’s cheek. “Skin like white jade. You will make someone very lucky someday, a beauty like you.”

Xie Lian’s cheeks burned and he smiled shyly. “Thank you, Lao nai nai. You are too kind.”

“He’s already made someone very lucky,” Banyue said with a grin. “They are getting married! See?” She grabbed Xie Lian’s hand and held it up. 

The ring Hua Cheng had given him caught the light. The ring was hauntingly lovely and a bit ostentatious, much like Hua Cheng himself. Diamond and shining crystal, etched with tiny flowers. 

The granny’s response was to coo and pinch Xie Lian’s cheek again. Banyue giggled and pinched his other cheek. 

When the granny was gone, Xie Lian tucked an escaped piece of hair back into his top bun, his cheeks still burning. He raised both eyebrows at Banyue. 

She smirked, apparently pleased with herself. “Xie Laoban, I’m going to fetch lunch from the noodle shop down the street. What would you like?”

Pei Xiu came up the creaky stairs from the cellar, carrying a sandwich board for the sidewalk. When San Lang was busy, Little Pei was put in charge of designing the sign and writing the daily deals on flowers—today they were giving away free snapdragons. Xie Lian couldn’t draw a stick person to save his life, and Little Pei’s doodles were really quite nice. Nothing compared to San Lang’s artwork, but that was an impossible expectation. 

“Hmn. It’s too hot to eat, Banyue,” Xie Lian said. “You go ahead. I’ll pick something up later.”

Banyue’s violet eyes flashed with displeasure. 

Xie Lian laughed. “Eh? What’s that face?”

“I promised Hua Gege that I would make sure you eat. You’re getting too skinny again.” Banyue poked him in the ribs.

“Ah, I see, I see. I suppose you’ll run and tell San Lang if I don’t eat lunch?”

“Leave him alone, Banyue. It really is too hot to eat,” Pei Xiu called as he rummaged through the drawer of the ancient sideboard for the chalk. 

Banyue ignored Little Pei. “Hua Gege asked me to watch out for you while he was in the capital. I need to stay on his good side. He’s scary when he’s mad.”

Xie Lian patted Banyue’s head fondly, smiling to himself at the mental image of Hua Cheng pouting and trying to entice him to eat his favourite delicacies. He really was too much! 

“Fine, fine.” Xie Lian pulled out his wallet and handed her his credit card. The shop was doing well these days, and these kids worked hard. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind picking up some lunch for us all? My treat.”

Banyue narrowed her gaze, but she took his credit card with a sigh. 

“Xie Laoban is a grown man, Banyue. Let him live his own life. Hua Cheng worries too much.” Pei Xiu scowled, still rattling around in the drawer. The front of his shirt was drenched with sweat, and he’d tied a bandana around his thick dark hair. “Where is the chalk?”

“He’s a grown man who ignores his own well being,” Banyue shot back. “And have you forgotten what it looks like to incur the wrath of Hua Cheng? Are you willing to take the risk?”

Pei Xiu rolled his eyes. 

Xie Lian tuned out their bickering and turned back to his phone.

Today 11:32

I hear congratulations are in order. Engaged to Crimson Rain. Impressive.

Who was this from? He and San Lang had been engaged for nearly two months. Xie Lian was sure everyone had congratulated him by now. He tapped out a reply.

11:48

I’m sorry, who’s this?

A text came back almost instantly. 

11:48

Xianle, Xianle. Have you already forgotten me? After all we’ve been through?

Xie Lian’s stomach dropped. 

The chorus of cicadas bothered his ears.

His skin prickled cold. 

Jun Wu. 

He stood staring at the screen for a full minute, his heart thrumming against his breastbone. He pocketed his phone with shaky hands. 

Three years. 

It had been three years since he’d seen or spoken to Jun Wu. 

Not since he’d dumped Xie Lian on New Year’s Eve and kicked him out of their shared condo in the city. It happened a week after his parents had taken their own lives—their empire in shambles. Xie Lian, still lost in grief, hadn’t been up to the party Jun Wu had insisted on attending. They fought; they’d never fought before—Xie Lian would never have dared fight with Jun Wu, but he’d been drowning in overwhelming emotions, in grief, lost to the world. Before Jun Wu left for the party on his own, looking dapper in a designer suit, he told Xie Lian to pack up his things and leave.

“This tantrum of yours is quite unbecoming. We can be together once Xianle has learned more about the world—matured a little. Right now we are not on equal footing, and I am tired of caring for an emotional toddler. I’ll come for you when you’re ready.”

After staying on Qi Rong’s couch for a few days, Xie Lian had decided sleeping in bushelters was preferable. Park benches. Back alleys. He’d had nothing. Jun Wu had isolated him—alienated him from his friends, forced him to drop out of his masters programme. Xie Lian’s parents were dead, their assets seized by creditors, his childhood home sold off to the highest bidder. He was alone.

He never heard from Jun Wu again. 

Until now.

Why would Jun Wu be messaging him after three years without contact?

His phone buzzed again in his pocket again. He ignored it. 

“You okay, boss?” Little Pei asked. 

Xie Lian forced a smile. “Of course. Nothing’s ever wrong with me!”

Little Pei narrowed his gaze, looking an awful lot like Banyue for a moment. 

❀

They closed the shop late that night after an unexpected rush. Xie Lian gathered a bouquet of jasmine, gardenia, and datura and tucked it neatly into his bicycle basket. His belly roiled, and he shook with residual nerves. The early evening sun baked the humidity off the day.

It had been a while since he’d even given Jun Wu a thought, and he closed his eyes and shivered against the rush of intrusive memories. Memories he’d long forgotten in favour of the new and beautiful ones he and Hua Cheng were stitching together, layer by layer. 

Xie Lian longed to fall into Hua Cheng’s arms. He wanted to feel Hua Cheng’s tender kisses, his warmth, his deep, velvety voice muttering sweet words—banishing the sour thoughts and memories Jun Wu had dredged up—sour thoughts and memories of his lowest moments. 

Ah, but it would have to wait. Hua Cheng was in the capital for the next few days, meeting with the gallery curator, Shi Qingxuan. Their tiny cottage in Puqi Village was so empty without him.

Xie Lian’s bicycle tires hummed as he flew down the hill into the valley, through the lush green canopy of trees. His phone vibrated in his pocket again. He paused at the rickety old train tracks, hidden away in the cascading tunnel of bougainvillaea. The cicadas wailed and the peeper frogs joined in the chorus as the sun dipped beneath the trees, casting the valley in a honey-gold haze. 

He steeled himself, and with no one around to witness his facial expressions, he pulled his phone out. He was greeted with a wall of text messages.

11:49

Xianle, it has been too long since I’ve seen your beautiful face. I would like to congratulate you in person on your upcoming nuptials.  

1:12

Xianle is ignoring me, I see. Perhaps he hasn’t spent enough time growing up after all.

2:38

I would be remiss if I didn’t warn you about the kind of man you have chosen to marry. I won’t lie, I am worried for you. Though he may be a talented and successful artist, Hua Cheng’s reputation for violence and cruelty precedes him. Xianle has always been guileless and naive. Such a man will chew him up and spit him out.

3:58

I hear you opened a flower shop in Puqi village. Perhaps I should stop by for a chat. It’s been a while since I’ve escaped the capital, and I would like to speak in person.

Xie Lian took a shuddering breath. It had taken him many years and Hua Cheng’s gentle love to realise how toxic Jun Wu had been for him. The thought of seeing him again turned his stomach. Ah, ah, he needed to deal with this right now, before Jun Wu tried to bulldoze him. Though, he would need to tread carefully. Jun Wu was not easy to manoeuvre.

He took a steadying breath, and reminded himself that he wasn’t under Jun Wu’s thumb anymore. He didn’t need to stack the dishwasher perfectly or worry about what he wore, or how he styled his hair, or his posture. No more parties where he might embarrass himself and Jun Wu. No more tiptoeing around trying not to take up space. 

These days, Xie Lian sprawled in bed half-draped over Hua Cheng instead of straight as a board, afraid to move. If he fumbled his words, Hua Cheng didn’t mock him or stare at him coldly until he got it right. Hua Cheng never withheld affection. On the contrary, Xie Lian was showered with love and kisses and…um…other pleasures. Hua Chengs cooked for him, teased him shamelessly, doted on him, held him close, kept him safe. He’d even encouraged him to open the flower shop, where Jun Wu preferred he not have a job at all. Xie Lian didn’t need to watch what he said or what his tone sounded like. Hua Cheng even adored his cooking, begging for seconds or thirds or whatever he made. 

That life was over, and he could see it now for what it was.

Xie Lian tapped out a reply with shaking fingers. 

6:12

Apologies for the delay in my reply. It was a busy day. Thank you very much for the well wishes, though I think it is for the best that we parted ways. I am wishing you happiness and good health in your future. 

His heart was hammering as he pressed send. If he knew Jun Wu at all, he would not be so easily deterred. A reply came right away, and Xie Lian’s heart jolted.

6:12

Xianle is trying to get rid of me now? Have I left him alone for too long? Perhaps I have made a mistake. A mistake I will now rectify. 

Xie Lian was having trouble catching his breath. He bristled at the thought of Jun Wu showing up at the shop, his sanctuary, his safe haven. Sweat trickled down his spine, and the hot wind plastered his damp hair to his neck. He swallowed, sending one more reply. 

6:15

I’m sorry. It isn’t a good idea for us to speak any further. Let’s leave the past behind us. I really do wish you the best.

Again, the reply was instant. 

6:15

I see Xianle is still upset with me for asking him to leave our home. Perhaps he is still unaware that it was for his own good. An opportunity to grow. To mature. I’m sure you see the benefits. 

6:16

My Xianle. Stubborn as always. Our home is still waiting for your return. Just as you left it. Our bed is waiting for you, too.

Xie Lian swallowed bile, his skin crawling. He didn’t reply. There was no point. Panic clawed up his throat, and he swallowed it down. He blocked Jun Wu’s number and continued his ride home.

Jun Wu began texting him from a different number. Xie Lian blocked that one, too. 

That night, without Hua Cheng lying at his side, he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t sleep the next night either. Nor the next night. Or the next. 

❀

It was Friday morning in the shop. They were on the cusp of wedding season, and the shop was bursting with customers and orders. Banyue shouted to Pei Xiu about an order for pickup, while Xie Lian worked the till. 

The only thing keeping him going was caffeine and adrenaline. His eyelids were weighted and his thoughts were syrupy. He was jittery. Jumpy. His limbs were weak and his thoughts were muddled. Despite the heat, he couldn’t stop shivering. His throat hurt, and his head pounded.

Maybe if he ignored his symptoms, they would go away. No time to get sick, after all! 

Banyue brushed up against his side. 

“Are you doing okay, Xie Laoban? You’re so pale. And you have dark circles under your eyes.”

“Huh? Oh, ah, I’m fine, Banyue. Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Hmn. I can see that. Is something bothering you? I noticed you didn’t eat breakfast or lunch. If you keep this up, you’ll get sick.”

Ah. Too late.

Xie Lian sighed and smiled down at Banyue. “I promise to eat soon. It’s been a busy morning.”

It was a promise he would unfortunately have to break. He had no appetite these past few days. The thought of eating anything made him gag. 

Banyue, clever girl that she was, eyed him suspiciously. “I’ll go get you a snack now. Don’t want you to pass out.”

She disappeared into the cellar and returned ten minutes later with a styrofoam cup of steaming instant noodles. “Here, go eat these in the greenhouse. I’ll cover the front.”

Xie Lian huffed but accepted the noodles and retreated to the greenhouse in the back. 

The greenhouse was original to the shop. It was a little ramshackle, and the white paint was peeling, but it was alive. So alive. Bursting with colour and flowers of every kind. Xie Lian had instantly fallen in love, and when Hua Cheng had seen the look on his face, he’d grinned. 

“We’ll take some TLC to it, Gege. Some new paint and boards, and this place will shine.”

Xie Lian sat on a little bench next to an abandoned pair of gardening gloves, his heart panging at the thought of Hua Cheng. He tried to swallow a mouthful of noodles, but his throat hurt too much—it felt like swallowing razor blades. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and his heart lurched. Ah, but it was a message from Hua Cheng. His heart settled. He smiled. 

1:32

Gege! Gege Gege Gege Gegeeeeee! I miss you. My shirt smells like you, and I just want to come home and hold you tight. This fucking art show is almost done, and then I think we should elope. I can’t wait to marry you. My Gege.  

Tears pricked behind his eyes, and he grinned softly to himself. Ah, he was so silly, getting all emotional over a text.

1:33

San Lang! San Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaang! Your Gege can’t wait to marry you either, but he is also very proud of his brilliant San Lang. Very proud indeed. Your art show will be a wild success!

1:33

Gege, I’ll be home tonight. I still have to finish this piece, but at least I can hold you while we sleep. I can’t bear to be apart another moment. I need to touch you and kiss you and breathe you in.

1:34

Hurry home to your Gege. xoxoxoxo

1:35

When I get home, I am going to remove your clothing with my teeth and…

Xie Lian squeaked and almost dropped his phone. He laughed to himself, tossing his uneaten noodles in the trash. His heart ached. Oh, Hua Cheng. Hua Cheng. His wonderful Hua Cheng. He missed him so much!

When he returned to the shop, he heard raised voices. 

“No, I know just who you are.” Banyue’s voice was raised. Xie Lian had never heard her speak this way before. “He isn’t here. He won’t be here. He’s off planning his wedding with his gorgeous and loving fiance, who, sorry to say, could fuck you up something fierce. So, again. Leave.”

“My, my, is that any way for a young lady to speak? Your parents must be ashamed.”

Xie Lian jerked to a stop behind the flower display, his heart thrashing. His blood ran cold. His whole body prickled with a strange fear, an echo of long ago. He ducked down out of sight trying to stifle his ragged panting. 

“My parents are dead. Xie Gege is my family now. And I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

Silence. A deep breath. 

“I suppose you leave me no choice. I’ll leave him a message then. For now.”

“You can leave a message, but it’s going in the trash as soon as you get the hell out.”

“What an impressive vocabulary. I’m surprised Xianle allows that kind of talk in his—”

“No, you know what, I’ll make you a deal,” Banyue interrupted. Xie Lian cringed. Jun Wu hated to be interrupted. “If you suffer the tragic loss of your parents and are then, a mere week later, forced out of your own home by the person who is supposed to be your support system, to live on the streets for a year, starving and getting beaten up on the reg—after that, you can come back and leave a message for Xie Gege. Then I might consider showing it to him, but only so we can laugh at how fucking pathetic you are.”

Jun Wu chuckled. “You are a real charmer. Fine. I can be patient. And not that I owe you an explanation, little girl, but I have always had his best interest at heart. I had my reasons for temporarily ending our relationship. Now, we can meet as equals.”

Banyue barked a laugh. “You could never be Xie Lian’s equal. Not even if you were the Heavenly fucking Emperor.”

“Ah. I see this may be difficult for someone so young and inexperienced to understand.” Jun Wu was speaking in his slow, quiet voice, and Xie Lian shuddered.

“Xie Gege is happy. He has someone wonderful to share his life with. He doesn’t want you anymore. Though it may be difficult for someone so old and narcissistic to understand.”

“He may think he’s happy, but have you considered that Hua Cheng might not be good for him? Hmn? Crimson Rain is dangerous, or have you not heard about his troubled past?”

“I’m sure you hope that’s true, which only furthers my point. Now leave before I call the police. Or worse. Leave before I call Hua Cheng.”

There was a long silence, and Xie Lian’s blood pulsed in his ears. This had gone on long enough. He couldn’t allow Banyue to suffer through this in his stead while he hid like a frightened child. He needed to face his demons down. He rose to his feet. 

“I’ll tell you what, little girl. You will go and—”

“All right. That’s enough.” Xie Lian’s raspy voice carried through the empty shop. 

Banyue and Jun Wu froze, staring at him with surprised looks. 

Jun Wu looked much as he always had. Clever silver eyes, dark hair elegantly styled, an expensive pair of designer slacks and a crisp white button up. He oozed charm and power. Confidence. Arrogance. Xie Lian could see nothing of what he once saw—he could see nothing of the benevolent mentor who had taken him under his wing. It was all manipulation and showmanship. Who was Jun Wu really? What did he want? What did he want with Xie Lian? No, it didn’t matter. Xie Lian didn’t need to understand anymore. 

“As Banyue said, I think it’s best you leave.” He was relieved that his voice didn’t waver, despite how his throat burned and his head throbbed. “Now, please.”

“Xianle. What choice did I have when you’ve been ignoring my messages? There is much we need to speak of, you and I. Why don’t we—”

“No,” Xie Lian interrupted. His heart thudded in his ears, and sweat trickled down his sides. “You once asked me to leave with no explanation and no recourse. Now I will ask you to do the same. Leave. Now.”

Jun Wu eyed him for a long moment. Something flashed in his eyes, and he smirked. “Ah, Xianle. You never learn. Don’t come crawling to me when your new lover gets tired of you and leaves. You always were a bore in bed. Soon enough Hua Cheng will go in search of a more interesting fuck.”

And with that, he turned and walked smoothly through the door. 

Xie Lian leaned against the counter, his heart beating in his throat. Banyue rested her head on his shoulder, and they stood in silence for a long while. 

“How long has he been harassing you? Be honest, Xia Loaban.”

Xie Lian swallowed against his blistering throat, trying to calm himself. “Ah, a few days. The first time in three years.”

“Have you told Hua Gege?”

“San Lang has got a lot on his plate right now. I didn’t want to worry him. His gallery opening is this weekend.”

Banyue sighed. “You should tell him. You aren’t a burden, Xie Laoban. Don’t be afraid to show your pain, too, as well as your joy. It’s okay…not to be okay.”

Xie Lian smiled and ruffled her hair. “Banyue, so grown up. So full of wisdom. Your parents would be proud.” 

Banyue flushed bright red and cleared her throat. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You really are pale.”

“Ah, maybe just a bit of a bug, Banyue. I’ll be fine.”

“Hua Gege is home tonight?”

“En.”

Banyue dusted off her purple skirt. “Good.”

“Banyue?”

“Yes, Xie Laoban?”

“Thank you.”

❀

By the time Xie Lian made it through the door of his and Hua Cheng’s little cottage that night, he had broken out into full-body shivers, and cold sweat trickled down his sides. He hung his bag on the hook and toed off his Converse hightops. 

Hua Cheng was home already and working in the studio. He’d been pouring himself—body and soul, day and night—into his art for months. Usually, when Xie Lian got home from the flower shop, he would make them some tea or pour San Lang a beer. He’d sit on the floor and watch as San Lang painted, and they would laugh and chat. Tea sounded quite nice. Hopefully he’d be able to swallow it. He would make some for them both when he was out of the shower.

“San Lang?” His voice was like crushed glass, and a coughing fit spasmed through his body. He braced himself against the wall until the waves of dizziness subsided. 

Sunset spilled down the hall from the studio, buttery yellows and tangerines. The little room with ‘the light’ was the whole reason they’d chosen this cottage. The studio was hardly large enough for an easel and chair, but it had floor-to-ceiling shelves and floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the trees.  

The tinny rasp of Hua Cheng’s headphones and the tapping of his foot on the creaky hardwood was a soundtrack he’d grown used to—a soundtrack to his happiness. Hua Cheng was listening to a lot of French house these days. The music seemed to energise him and drive him through all-nighters, along with high-test coffee and the odd cigarette. Xie Lian didn’t really know much about popular music. He was still listening to Rachmaninoff or Xian Xinghai—sometimes Billie Holiday. Jun Wu had always often suggested he try something new. “New things force you to grow, Xianle. You should try it sometime.”

Xie Lian shuddered, though from the memory of Jun Wu or from the chills wracking his body, he didn’t know. Painful goosebumps covered his arms and spine, and the fabric of his worn white T-shirt was like sandpaper against his clammy skin. Why did his skin hurt so much? 

In the bathroom, he stripped out of his sweat-drenched clothes and stepped under the scalding spray of water. The window was open, and the sound of cicadas filled his mind. His shivering persisted, and he turned the hot water up as high as it would go—until his milk-pale skin was an angry red. Still, his teeth chattered. He couldn’t get warm.

He didn’t remember getting out of the shower. He didn’t remember towelling off or stumbling into his pyjamas. He didn’t remember pulling the heavy duvet from the linen closet, even though it was 40 degrees Celsius out. As the sun sank beneath the trees, Xie Lian fell into bed. He would sleep for just a few minutes, then he would make Hua Cheng some tea. He missed his Hua Cheng. The last few weeks had been so chaotic with wedding season at the flower shop and prepping for Hua Cheng’s gallery opening, most nights they’d fallen into bed exhausted, making soft love, and falling asleep in one another’s arms. How he wished Hua Cheng was here to hold him now, but the gallery opening was this weekend—Hua Cheng had so much work left to do tonight. The blankets hurt his skin and he couldn’t stop shivering. 

His ear popped, and the sound of the cicadas and peeper frogs filled his mind. He head throbbed in time to his heartbeat. He shuddered as he buried himself under the blankets, drifting in and out of awareness. 

When he woke, it was dark. He sat up in bed, his arm shaking as it held his weight. 

In the back gardens, fireflies quivered amongst the emerald leaves and moon flowers, and the night sky whirled and whooshed with fusillades of winking stars. The cicadas were so loud, he could not hear himself breathe, but he could feel each breath rattling deep in his chest. 

The room itself hummed—through his bones and teeth—it hummed. The walls softly swayed, and tiny sparks of light appeared and disappeared in the corners of his eyes.

“Xianle? In bed already?” Jun Wu stood in the doorway, a dark silhouette. He was so tall. As tall as Hua Cheng and nearly twice as broad. 

Xie Lian covered his eyes with the blankets. This wasn’t real. This was his and Hua Cheng’s home. Their ‘love nest’ as Hua Cheng called it with a velvety laugh. Xie Lian would blush and Hua Cheng would pinch his cheek.

The bed dipped beside him, and a cool hand pressed against his forehead. Jun Wu’s expensive cologne turned his stomach. He had never liked that cologne. It was too spicy. Too strong. It hurt his head.

“Nmng,” Xie Lian muttered, collapsing back into bed. If he turned on his side, maybe Jun Wu would leave. 

“Xianle is behaving so childishly. Perhaps he should be left alone until he gets better.”

Xie Lian waited for him to leave. He held his breath. His heart raced, and cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck. But Jun Wu didn’t leave. He carded his fingers through Xie Lian’s hair and sighed. 

“I’m going to sleep in the spare room until you can act like an adult.”

“Sorry…” Xie Lian muttered.

“Xianle, Xianle, you never learn.”

When Xie Lian gathered the courage to pull the blankets away from his eyes, Jun Wu was gone. A sob caught in his throat. He needed to run, to escape. It wasn’t safe here! Jun Wu could find him and hurt him again. He could…he might…he couldn’t…

Xie Lian stumbled out of bed and immediately crashed into the bedside table. A stack of books fell onto the floor with a heavy thud. Sweating and shaking, he pushed himself to his feet. 

“Xianle,” Jun Wu whispered from behind him, but when he spun around, no one was there. Terror froze him through, ice encasing his heart. Black spots pricked at his vision, and he swooned, nearly losing his balance. 

The hallway was so narrow. Too narrow. Had it always been like this? Had the walls always shuddered like they were gasping for air? It wasn’t safe here. He wanted Hua Cheng. He needed Hua Cheng. If Hua Cheng was here, all he fog would settle, and then maybe he would be safe to sleep

A sliver of light leaked from beneath the studio door. The light pooled and sloshed along the hardwood, swirling around Xie Lian’s feet like a dervish.

“San Lang.” Xie Lian tried to swallow, but his throat was on fire, blistering and shredding with every breath. 

Inside, San Lang sat at his stool glaring at the blackened canvas before him. He wore a paint splattered red T-shirt that said Ghost King, butterfly tattoos glittering chrome-bright from beneath his sleeves. He wore black headphones that were big as a fist, and his long ponytail swished down his back. His music was so loud, he didn’t notice Xie Lian in the doorway.

“Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, smudging paint across the page in a silver arc. Shapes leapt away from the paint, chasing around the room—silver butterflies, gobbling up the crumbs from San Lang’s abandoned dinner plate, drinking his paint, clinging to the bristles of his paint brushes. White flowers sprouted from the cracks in the hardwood, swaying softly. The butterflies frockled playfully amongst the showy white blooms.

Panic rose inside Xie Lian. How did these butterflies get out of the painting? He couldn’t control all of this. Not when he needed to go back to sleep. His head throbbed in a steady pulse, and sweat trickled down his sides. His long hair had come loose from his top bun and stuck to his neck. The silver butterflies flew in a fury to upend a jar of charcoal. Hua Cheng didn’t notice.

“No! Leave that alone!” Xie Lian gasped. “San Lang, the butterflies!” His voice sounded far away and hot. His voice sounded hot—his eyes were hot—but he was so cold. He shivered violently, his teeth rattling his skull.

“Gege? When did you get home?” Hua Cheng’s mouth hung open, and his onyx eye was wide with alarm. His black eyepatch was a little crooked. He jumped to his feet, and his stool toppled over with a clatter, crushing the white flowers. The butterflies dissolved.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian croaked. He swallowed heavily and winced. He was hallucinating. Ah, his fever must be quite high then. “Oh, never mind. I was just…having a hard time. Something isn’t right. Jun Wu…”

Both of Hua Cheng’s fine black brows shot up and his impossibly pale face paled. “Jun Wu?”

“Hmn.” Xie Lian blinked, and his belly roiled. Bile rose in his throat, and he swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. He broke out once more into shivers. “I think I was dreaming though. It’s okay. Sorry, sorry, San Lang. No, I was only dreaming. I think I need…I’m going to sleep. Sorry, San Lang. Sorry.”

He turned a little too fast. The floor wouldn’t stay lying flat, and oh, he thought he might vomit. He shuddered, and nearly collapsed, but strong arms caught him. 

Hua Cheng sucked in a breath as he pressed his hand to Xie Lian’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Mnm. I’m fine. Just a little fever. You don’t have to sleep in the guest room.” Xie Lian’s body quivered against Hua Cheng’s icy skin. The silver butterflies were back, clinging to Hua Cheng’s glossy raven hair, walking along the pierced shells of his ears. One perched on the strap of Hua Cheng’s eyepatch. They were so pretty—shards of silver light shattered like diamonds. They probably weren’t even really there. 

“We don’t have a guest room,” Hua Cheng muttered. He scooped Xie Lian into his arms, as though Xie Lian were a child. He muttered something under his breath. “Gege, Gege you’re so, so sick. Why didn’t you come get me?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Xie Lian whispered. 

Hua Cheng carried him down the hall to the bedroom. 

“No, no, don’t go in there, please,” Xie Lian whispered. “He’s in there.”

Hua Cheng kissed his sweaty forehead. “No one is in our room. You’re safe. I’m here. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Xie Lian whimpered as Hua Cheng lay him down in their bed. His gaze darted nervously around the room, but no one was there, just as Hua Cheng had promised. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Sorry, sorry, San Lang. Sorry for behaving so childishly. Please—” His voice cracked. “I’ll be better. I’ll be better, I promise.”

Hua Cheng sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed Xie Lian’s hair back from his face. “Gege is perfect. Gege is already the best just as he is.”

“San Lang, please can I stay here? Can I stay? I don’t want to go. I don’t want to…I can’t…ha ha ha, San Lang, I’m so sorry. I…” 

Hua Cheng was silent for a long moment.  Xie Lian was worried he might miss his words over the roar of the cicadas. “Gege, this is your home. This will always be your home. And you will always be my home. Please, Gege, you need rest. I am here to take care of you.”

“Don’t leave, San Lang…don’t…”

“Shhh, Gege.” San Lang hummed—a haunting and exotic melody that he sang sometimes.

Xie Lian dozed off and on to the gentle rhythm of Hua Cheng’s hands brushing through his hair, down his back. He heard his phone buzzing on the nightstand, and he muttered in his sleep. 

“Banyue?” Hua Cheng’s voice was soft. He ran his fingers over Xie Lian’s back, soothing. “I know. I wish you’d called me. A fever, yes. He’s burning up.”

A long pause. 

“That trash,” Hua Cheng hissed. “What else did he say? Hmn. Hmn. He’s obsessed. I know.”

Another long pause. Hua Cheng laughed, but it was edged with fury. 

“He is seeking his own death. No, I’ll deal with that scumbag fuck.”

Xie Lian didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Dreaming pulled him beneath the surface.

Something icy cold pressed against his forehead, and he gasped awake. 

Hua Cheng hovered over him in the dark. “I didn’t mean to wake you, but we need to get your fever down.”

Frigid beads of water slithered down his neck from the damp cloth on his forehead. “Too cold, San Lang. I’m so cold…please…”

“Can you sit up, Gege? Let me help you.” Hua Cheng gently lifted him from the bed just enough to drink some water. “Take these pills, Gege. They will help.” He offered Xie Lian two tablets and tipped a glass of water to his lips. 

Though his throat blistered, Xie Lian drank greedily, shivering. 

“Okay, that’s good, Gege. Now it’s time to rest again, hmn? I’ll be right here. I’m right here.” Hua Cheng lowered him back down on the pillows and covered him with a thin sheet. 

Xie Lian’s phone buzzed again on the nightstand, and Xie Lian held his breath. 

“Is that—” Xie Lian coughed, his chest rattling. “Is that Banyue?”

“An private number, Gege. It’s probably him.” Hua Cheng’s voice had taken on a foreign quality. Icy and distant. Did he mean Jun Wu?

“I…I don’t…I blocked his number, but then he started texting from another number, and then he—” He winced as he swallowed. “He showed up at the shop today.”

“I know. Banyue told me he was sniffing around.” 

Shame and fear coloured his thoughts, and a terror he’d never felt before rose inside him. He needed to explain. He needed to tell Hua Cheng…he needed to— “I…Banyue told me I should tell you. I was going to—I was going to be honest with you. I’m sorry, San Lang.”

“Gege has nothing to be sorry about,” Hua Cheng said fiercely. “Gege only has to share what he feels comfortable sharing. None of my anger has anything to do with you and it never will. He’s the trash who won’t leave Gege alone.”

Xie Lian swallowed, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Fear slithered along his spine, curving along the base of his skull. “San Lang, my San Lang is so good.”

“Gege, Gege, I will never let anyone hurt you. What he did to you…You have had to be so strong for such a long time, but now you can lean on me. I won’t let you down.” 

His phone buzzed again. 

Hua Cheng’s jaw ticked. “Gege, may I? I will only answer if you are completely comfortable. I don’t want to cause you trouble.”

Xie Lian took a shuddering breath. It felt as though his head was packed with gauze. “En. I trust San Lang.”

“That fucker will never bother Gege again.” His eye flashed red, and his aura expanded, filling the room. The butterflies were back, whirling around them in a funnel. It was dizzying to watch. 

Hua Cheng rose swiftly to his feet, snatching Xie Lian’s phone from the bedside table with ghostly speed. The butterflies followed after him into the hallway. 

Xie Lian could only hear a low murmuring. Every once in a while, he’d catch a fragment of conversation. 

“.....or, if you’d prefer, you and I could meet in person for a little chat, hmn?” A sinister, velvety laugh. “........creepy obsession……..come near him again, and I will fucking……..damaging narrative……..jealous old man………….fuck around and find out…….take a good fuck to yourself…”

One of Hua Cheng’s silver butterflies fluttered back into the room and landed on Xie Lian’s nose. He watched it open and close its ephemeral wings. It was the most peaceful thing he’d ever seen. Soon, he sank into liquid blackness. 

He didn’t know if he was sleeping or awake. His clothes were sweat drenched, and his jaw clenched so tightly, it was as if it was glued shut. He moaned, his throat aching and his chest on fire. He couldn’t remember where he was, and his whole body hummed. Had he fallen asleep in an alley? A bus station? He didn’t remember where he’d…what he’d…. 

Someone was trying to pry his mouth open. Someone was touching him. Xie Lian jolted, his heart thrashing, but his eyes were full of sand. He couldn’t open them.

“Please,” Xie Lian murmured, his throat raw. He was lost in the layers of confusion. Like this, he couldn’t fight back. Too weak. Ah…too weak. Too… “I have…I don’t have anything. No money. No value. Don’t hurt…”

“Shhhh, Gege. It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re with your San Lang. He’ll keep you safe.” 

Gentle voice. 

Gentle hands. 

Gentle San Lang. 

“Gege, open your mouth, love. Just a little. That’s it. Good boy.”

Something cold pressed beneath his tongue—it clinked against his bottom teeth. Xie Lian’s eyes fluttered open. 

Moonlight spilled into the room, painting Hua Cheng’s beautiful face. His butterflies tattoos shivered and stretched up his cheek, their dainty wings warped and bleeding. Xie Lian moaned again. 

After a few moments, Hua Cheng took the cold thing out of his mouth. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck.”

He got up and walked out of the room. 

Darkness. 

Shadows lurched and shivered. 

The moon was too bright—it burned his retinas. Xie Lian tried to call out to Hua Cheng, but he was too weak. 

When he awoke again, Hua Cheng was stripping him of his sweaty pyjamas. Xie Lian could only blink up at him. He was underwater, drowning, drowning, the frigid waves lapping against his skin. And, oh, how he hurt. His eyes burned. His throat was shredded. As the cool air hit his heated skin, he shuddered, and bile rose in his throat. 

Hua Cheng was just in time to grab the trash can so Xie Lian could gag and heave up stomach acid. Bile burned against his blistered throat, and he moaned. 

When he was finished, Hua Cheng lifted him carefully into his arms, holding his naked body close against his chest. 

“I’m so sorry, Gege,” he whispered softly, planting a kiss at Xie Lian’s sweaty temple. “If I can’t get your fever down, I’ll have to take you to the hospital. I’d take you now, but I know how unpleasant that would be, so we’ll try this first, hmn?”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian croaked. The rest of his words came out in garbled nonsense. 

The bathroom glowed in the moonlight. Hua Cheng had lit a few candles to spare his eyes. The cicadas throbbed along with his headache. 

“Gege, Gege, shhh. This will be bad. I’m sorry.”

Gently, as though he was made of glass, Hua Cheng set him into the bath.

Xie Lian jolted and gasped. The water was like ice against his burning skin, and he choked on a sob. 

“I know, Gege, I know. It’s only for a little while, then I’ll get you back into bed.”

Xie Lian panted, and Hua Cheng dipped the sponge in the water. The bath smelled of lavender and jasmine. Hua Cheng washed his hair and trailed the icy sponge over his body. 

After a while, Xie Lian stopped shivering, and his breathing slowed. Hua Cheng brought him iced ginger tea with honey and more tablets to swallow. His must have drifted off again, as the next thing he knew, Hua Cheng was lifting his dripping body from the tub and towelling him off. 

He was lucid enough to participate as Hua Cheng dressed him in a clean T-shirt (one of Hua Cheng’s that Xie Lian always wore) and clean boxer briefs. He crawled back into bed, and San Lang covered him with a fresh, sweet-smelling sheet. 

“Let’s take your temperature again, Gege.”

Once more, the thermometer was placed in his mouth, and while Hua Cheng waited, he braided Xie Lian’s wet hair, tucking loose strands behind his ears. He brushed his lips against Xie Lian’s forehead, drifting to his brow. To his cheek. To his chin. The corner of his lips. “So, so sick,” he whispered. “This San Lang needs to take better care of his Gege.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s fine…ah…San Lang…”

Hua Cheng took the thermometer out. He frowned. “It’s a little better. I’ll check you again in an hour.”

“Mnm. San Lang is so good,” Xie Lian rasped. 

Hua Cheng’s expression only darkened. “I’ll do better, Gege. You deserve to be treated like a prince.”

Xie Lian’s eyes fluttered closed. “I always feel like a prince when I’m with San Lang.”

The cicadas lulled him in a trance. Beyond the window, the garden of white flowers swayed in the moonlight. Soon, he drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

❀

He woke to the bright morning sun flooding their bedroom. Hua Cheng was plastered to his back, his long, slender fingers smoothing through Xie Lian’s braid. 

Xie Lian groaned. Everything hurt. His head, his throat, his whole body, but his mind was clear, and he was no longer sweating and shivering. 

Hua Cheng’s fingers paused their meditative movements. “Gege?”

Xie Lian turned over in bed so they were face to face. “San Lang. You’re here.”

Hua Cheng smiled fondly. His onyx eye was bright with fondness, his other eye, now uncovered by the eyepatch, was flat and closed. His skin was so pale, like milk, his lashes so long. His hair tumbled around them. 

“Where else would I be but at Gege’s side?”

“Your…but…what about your painting? Did you get it finished last night?”

“Ah, Gege, that painting isn’t important. So I have one less to show at the opening. Who cares.”

Xie Lian frowned. “It’s your art, San Lang. Of course it’s important.”

“Nothing is more important than Gege. Gege is this San Lang’s whole life. Art is just another way of expressing that love.” He kissed the tip of Xie Lian’s nose. “How is Gege feeling? His fever broke.”

“En. I’m all better.”

Hua Cheng raised a single brow. “I said your fever broke, Gege. You’re not all better. You’ll be staying in bed today while your San Lang looks after you.”

“San Laaaang,” Xie Lian whined. 

“Gegeeeeee!” Hua Cheng kissed the tip of his nose again. Then his lips. Then each cheek. “Won’t you allow this lowly one to look after his prince for a day? Just a day?”

Xie Lian scoffed and just managed to turn away in time so he didn’t cough in Hua Cheng’s face. Hua Cheng rubbed his back while Xie Lian coughed into the pillow. When he finished, he was wheezing, and Hua Cheng helped him drink some water. 

They lay together for a while, listening to the cicadas, to the birds, to the wind rustling the trees in their little slice of paradise. Their love nest. 

“San Lang, did you really speak to Jun Wu on the phone last night, or was that just part of my fever dream?”

Hua Cheng made a strange face. “This one was wrong, Gege. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you while you were unwell. I spoke to him, yes. He won’t be bothering you again.”

Xie Lian sighed. “Thank you, San Lang.”

“Gege doesn’t have to thank me for anything. I behaved selfishly, and if I ever saw that trash in person, I would make him suffer.”

Xie Lian bit his lip to stop himself from grinning. “San Lang?”

“Hmn?”

“You are my home, too.”

Hua Cheng was silent for a long moment. He took Xie Lian’s hand, and kissed the engagement ring he’d so lovingly placed there. 

Later, Xie Lian lay in bed reading, while Hua Cheng was in the kitchen making Xie Lian breakfast in bed. As he turned the page of his novel, he caught a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye. When he looked out the window, he caught sight of a butterfly, with diaphanous silver wings, just before it disappeared into the waving sea of moon flowers.