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Chapter Text

Hua Cheng was not known for being kind. A few might have argued otherwise, depending on whom one asked, but the majority settled on calling him dangerous. Some even went further to label him a threat to peace. As far as stories went – most of which were true – his mere presence was enough to make others shiver in terror.

That said, he wasn’t cruel to anyone without a reason. Unless, of course, the other party deserved it. He was someone who rained blood if provoked. Even toward those he bore no animosity, he wasn’t interested in showing courtesy or exchanging pleasantries. He was best described as a man who didn’t keep up pretenses. It wasn’t as though he cared what others thought of him. The point was, he didn't consider himself benevolent either.

So when a kid grinned up at him, his dimples showing as he chirped, “You’re the kindest, gege!” Hua Cheng nearly laughed at the absurdity.

Still, strangely, it made his dead heart beat.

“I don’t think many people would agree,” he replied in an amused tone, smiling at the irony.

“Why wouldn’t they?” the kid asked cluelessly, his hands full of buns Hua Cheng had bought him.

“I am kind on a whim,” Hua Cheng emphasized. When he had first noticed the kid – haggard and hollow-cheeked, gazing longingly at the food stalls – something in him had stirred, and he stopped.

It was like a memory being tugged when he couldn't recall a thing. He had only felt an intense emotion that compelled him to buy food. And when the kid pleaded that his fellow brothers and sisters in the nearby temple were hungry too, Hua Cheng bought enough for every orphan living there.

“Oh,” the kid muttered as if truly comprehending his meaning. “But it will fill our stomachs tonight. So thank you, gege.”

Even the food stall owner had been in awe that some stranger would do such a good deed. So the man said, “You must be really generous to help them. You don’t look like someone from a rich family.”

Of course, that was everyone believed. Because Hua Cheng’s appearance gave no obvious signs of his opulence. Normally, when he went out like this, he wore a younger skin and pretended to be a young master from a wealthy household. However, he had grown tired of it as people would pester him by inquiring about his family and asking favors. Worse, they dared to set forth irritating marriage proposals. So he switched to a skin closer to his true appearance and dressed in simple clothing that blended in among common folk.

“Like I said,” he repeated plainly. “It was only on a whim that I decided to help. Even if I had endless wealth, I wouldn’t go around handing it out for free.”

There was no reason to explain himself more than he already had. He took one last look at the kid and decided to part ways. The kid invited him to come to the temple, but Hua Cheng bluntly declined. He would never willingly set foot inside a heavenly official’s temple. He considered them all frauds and hypocrites. He wanted nothing to do with them.

He paid more to the stall owner, pushing extra coins in his hands in case the kid and his companions came back for more food. He had accumulated more human wealth than he needed. Sparing it like this didn't cost him a drop of fortune.

To spend the evening, he went to an inn. Finding it bustling, he secured one secluded corner to sit in. Even then, he couldn't escape the voices of people gossiping about everything under the sun. None of it had any relevance to him, but he listened to them anyway.

The terrifying truth was he was utterly bored in death. Boredom so bone-deep that it wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t decipher his purpose for remaining in this world. It irritated him to the core. This intense feeling inside him left him aching and raw. An ever-growing restlessness so deeply rooted in his soul he could not uproot it. He had not known a single day without it. It shimmered and burned inside him.

He spent most of his time like this, traveling leisurely, weaving through different dynasties and cultures as if looking for something. He collected ancient artifacts and books, weapons and trinkets. Things that had no real value to him besides being mere ornaments, amassed in his manor, a place that was paradise in name only.

Each time he brought something, he was left with false satisfaction. Nothing could truly fill the void inside him. No person or place.

The only two people with a constant presence in his afterlife were He Xuan and Yin Yu. They could merely be counted as friends. Even though he had frequent conversations with them, they were mostly formal, rarely straying into personal territory. Besides these tolerable and necessary acquaintances, he had never developed any interest in someone – neither emotional nor physical. He had tried to, but it ended with detachment before it could begin.

He was a fish out of water, writhing and gasping for breath, but not quite dying. He couldn’t be dispersed, tethered to the earth, haunting this world forever.

He knew he craved something – something that would satiate the burning hole in his soul. Something worth holding onto. Anything that would justify enduring this hell – his salvation for all the suffering.

Sometimes he felt rage at whatever reason he had been holding onto. He would feel pathetic if it was revenge. He wasn’t like Black Water. Not that he considered himself above it, because he was capable of holding onto revenge. But carrying your whole existence for revenge was exhausting. A lost cause. It would be a hollow feeling in the end. He had seen far too many times what revenge did to someone. What holding onto resentment could do. Half the wraths and even barely formed raging ghosts went for blood. To sate their thirst for violence and feel gratification.

He did feel that for some time. Freshly out of the Kiln that devoured his memories. He wanted to claw and tear something apart with his bare hands. So he challenged every powerful thing that could oppose him. Mortal or immortal, god or ghosts. It didn't matter to him. He was feeling the loss of something enormous. An existential wound that wouldn't close. He couldn't grapple with his identity. Stripped of everything, he was naked in the world with no ounce of recognition of his past self.

The sound of porcelain hitting the table wood made his head turn lightly. The waiter smiled, pushing plates of rice and soup towards him. He wasn't so far removed from his surroundings as to forget paying attention around him. He was always vigilant. One would think you wouldn't need to remain cautious if you gained enough power to outmaneuver others. But the more powerful you get, the more enemies you make. By now, it was more of a reflex, rather than survival. He searched for threats, even when there wasn't one.

He surveyed the inn hall and watched the people around him with a dispassionate gaze. The old man at the nearby table was still talking, narrating a boring tale of catching huge fish in his youth. A fish that had turned out to be a sea demon. People gathered around his table listened with awe as he exaggerated how he'd saved his village from the vicious creature.

Hua Cheng’s eyes next landed on the couple sitting two tables far away. A boy who looked about three or four sat on his father's lap, giggling at something as his mother spoon-fed him. The man said something, looking at his wife over his son's head and they both laughed too.

Hua Cheng tore his eyes from them quickly. As if the simple act of simple life offended his senses. A flicker of anger spread in his gut. He didn't know why and where it came from. It made no sense. Deep down, he feared he was growing resentful too, a feeling that was slowly slipping into him, making a home in his chest.

He gulped the tea that had gone cold, his throat closing around the disappointment instead of the burn of scalding liquid he wanted to feel. He left the food untouched, paid for it anyway and walked out of the building.

It was only after leaving that he bumped into someone. More precisely, someone slammed into his back, hard. He turned around instantly.

The person had a lithe body, a bit smaller than him in stature and dressed in all white. When the person looked up, his eyes blinking and delicate features coming into view, Hua Cheng’s senses told him something he couldn't quite identify.

"Please excuse me.” An apologetic smile graced those lips. There was a certain panic behind his brown eyes, and he looked ready to bolt. “I was not looking where I walked.”

Hua Cheng had to admit it was the kind of beauty people described as elegant and moving. But it failed to move him. Very few things left a mark on him, almost non-existent. He doubted the man was over twenty. But his eyes seemed old, and how he moved with grace told a different story. A white fabric was wrapped around the man's neck. A cultivator or priest, perhaps.

Hua Cheng found himself catching the man’s wrist. Ordinarily, he would never cause conflict over something so trivial, but his perturbed disposition impelled him to act.

The moment his fingers curled around the man's bony frame beneath the long sleeve, he was caught off guard by a narrow white silk coiled around there. He could feel it pulsing. At his touch, it tightened, as if shielding its bearer from the danger. Yet, he could not sense any malicious aura.

The man looked at where Hua Cheng’s fingers enclosed around his wrist and then lifted his gaze to study him, expression carefully assessing. He attempted to pull his hand from Hua Cheng’s grasp but to no avail.

Hua Cheng gave him a smile. One that looked devious. “What’s the hurry, daozhang?”

A voice bellowed from the end of the street. “There he is! Get him!”

Hua Cheng glanced over the man’s shoulder – a group of three men were approaching in identical blue robes and swords strapped to their hips. Guards, maybe?

The man pushed him forward. A strong and unexpected shove that would have left any mortal stumbling, but Hua Cheng only shifted a step backward.

The man looked confused, but quickly understood he wasn't dealing with an ordinary person. He tried again to wrench his wrist from Hua Cheng's grasp. The next shove came with unmistakable martial strength. Though Hua Cheng couldn't sense spiritual energy directly, surely there were other ways to conceal it - or this man was too skilled, tempered by years of experience. Both options indicated hidden prowess.

So Hua Cheng didn’t relent, didn’t falter under the weight of force. He only tightened his grip and let the man struggle.

The shouting men drew near, their faces angry as they stood before Hua Cheng and the man. They were panting for breath. Weak and pathetic.

“What is the matter, gentlemen?” Hua Cheng asked.

One of the men jabbed a finger at the cultivator. “This man has stolen from our lord’s manor!”

With a dignified sigh, the cultivator shook his head. “I believe there's been a misunderstanding. I didn’t steal anything.”

He looked poised and calm. His speech and mannerisms were sophisticated and learned. If he really was a thief, Hua Cheng admired the grace and confidence.

“Don’t speak falsehood with your sweet words, young man. You were loitering near the courtyard,” The man stepped forward, reaching for the cultivator. He was the bulkiest of them, clearly meant to look threatening. What a fool.

Hua Cheng pulled the cultivator behind him in a swift motion and gave his most insincere polite smile. “Why don’t we hear the full story first? It could very well be a misunderstanding.”

“Are you his accomplice?” the man asked, his tone already accusing.

Hua Cheng tilted his head, his smile turning cutting. “Now you are hurling accusations without a scrap of evidence. Is this how justice is upheld here?”

“Who are you to teach us justice?” the man spat. “Either let go of that man, or we’ll drag you along too.”

Hua Cheng laughed incredulously. The audacity.

The cultivator came forward, surprising him.

“You are implicating a bystander. I had no accomplices.” When he looked at Hua Cheng, his voice was soft, but eyes hard. “Please don't involve yourself.”

Hua Cheng watched him with curiosity he hadn't felt in a long time. Mortal squabbles were amusing, but he rarely participated in them. What piqued his interest was how someone with enough strength to save himself would let this happen. The easier option was just beating these men and be done with it.

“If you wish.” Hua Cheng folded his arms over his chest and watched the cultivator go willingly. The men smirked in triumph and the bulkier one caught the cultivator’s wrist, just where Hua Cheng was holding him before.

It was a strange feeling. Was it guilt because the man bumped into him and got caught? That was beside the point; there was no place for such feelings in his heart. And he was shielding the cultivator. If that man wanted to walk to his execution, who was Hua Cheng to stop him?

The cultivator and the guards turned their backs to him. Without sparing him another glimpse, they walked into the next alley, disappearing behind the buildings.

Hua Cheng stood there motionless. Dusk was falling around the street, engulfing the quiet buzz of the people going about their day. The man's face and voice refused to blur among the countless others he encountered daily. The oddness of it didn't escape him.

Soon after, he heard the scream coming from that corner in the alley. He told himself he wasn't interested. He didn't care what happened. Yet he wanted to know, curiosity refusing to die.

Without hurry, he traced the path. The flagstones were moist, a consequence of the mild rain that dripped in the afternoon. The light from the lantern barely reached this far.

The white struck the eye first, then the red seeping into the fabric. The cultivator was standing still by the wall, holding himself well despite the wound that bled on his stomach. The guards, however, were crumpled on the ground like tattered sacks. One was clutching his knee, and another was moaning over his broken arm. The bulkiest one was immobile. Not dead, just unconscious. The blade lay at the feet of the cultivator, soaked with blood.

Hua Cheng had seen worse, done worse. This was nothing. Yet, the slightly disturbed look on the cultivator’s face unsettled him.

“You shouldn't have followed,” the cultivator said, tone almost like a parent warning his child.

“So, you only fight after getting struck?” Hua Cheng asked, walking in his direction.

“I didn't think they would go this far.” His hand touched around his belly and he let out a rueful chuckle. “I am just unlucky. Or fortunate, should I say?”

Hua Cheng didn't know how to respond. With incredulity for the casualness of it? It was senseless to not retaliate until the very end. This person was absurd.

The cultivator's expression turned sober again, and he stayed quiet after realising Hua Cheng wouldn't appreciate his sense of humour. Their eyes held each other in long contact, silence unbecoming.

Hua Cheng settled to ask only one question, lowering his gaze at the injury. “Is it deep?” There was no emotion in his voice. Only a simple inquiry.

“It’ll heal.” the cultivator spoke in a voice that implied this was a completely normal course of action to follow.

“You'll need to be bandaged. Properly,” Hua Cheng stressed on the last part, because he was starting to realise this man worked differently.

“I have handled worse. This is manageable,” the cultivator stated as if it sounded any better. Yet his hand trembled for a second, resting near the wound.

“I don't doubt that, daozhang,” Hua Cheng retorted, feeling the irritation he couldn't point where it originated from. “But for someone who appears wise, you act like a fool.”

“If that is what you think, I won't correct your assumption,” the cultivator offered him a small smile. He didn't sound offended but weary. “You have no reason to trouble yourself. If you will excuse me, I need to leave.”

“Let me treat your injury.” The words were out of his mouth before he could comprehend his own intention.

“I said there's—”

“No need to repeat yourself," Hua Cheng cut him off, tired of hearing the same answer. “If you hadn't bumped into me, I wouldn't have felt this obligation.” His reasoning was unconvincing to even him. “You can at least own up to your mistake.”

“My mistake?” the cultivator's eyebrow raised, voice flat.

“Call it kindness done on a whim.” Hua Cheng didn't delude himself with a grand meaning behind his own decisions. Most of the time, he acted impulsively. But never irrational and against his own benefit. The simpler he made this, the better. “I am feeling bored.”

The cultivator watched him for a long moment, contemplating. Perhaps Hua Cheng was another threat, disguised as nonchalant kindness.

The man could be stupid enough to get stabbed, but he couldn't be self-sacrificing to the point of extreme. The guards writhing in pain on the ground was a good example of that. He was weighing the threat and deciding with clarity. Because Hua Cheng might seem harmless, but he wasn't. And the cultivator could see it too.

“Alright,” he assented at last, moving his body away from the wall.

Hua Cheng stepped aside from crowding him, keeping a careful distance. He wanted to reach out to support him, but the cultivator was giving him a fierce I can manage look. So he didn't push.

But as they just left the alley's mouth, the cultivator faltered midway. Reflexively, Hua Cheng wrapped his hand on the man's waist, steadying him. Surprise caught a moment too late. He did it unthinkingly; it didn't matter that he didn't touch someone unless violence was involved or out of pure necessity.

The cultivator didn't seem to object, understanding that his condition was precarious. He let Hua Cheng guide him the rest of the way, without complaining. The warmth of another body almost felt foreign.

Something was about to give, Hua Cheng thought quietly. This was unlike him, not without wanting something in return. Had he really become this restless? Whatever it was, once his curiosity was sated, this person would be forgotten. Or worse, he would be discarded after Hua Cheng no longer felt kind.

Maybe the kid was right, because kindness was also a selfish thing. And Hua Cheng was a selfish creature. Nothing was going to change, he told himself, feeling the soft brush of cultivator's long, dark hair against his side. 

Chapter Text

The cultivator, as it turned out, had nowhere to go. He was a wanderer. Hua Cheng had already sensed that much, even before the man in white answered. When asked if he wanted to be taken somewhere familiar, he shook his head. Hua Cheng had at least expected the man to have a place to stay, or perhaps he didn't dare to share it with a stranger.

“Anywhere is fine,” he'd said, and fell silent, likely enduring the rising pain with strong resolve.

Without any delay, Hua Cheng found a small inn, situated quietly in a shadowed corner. Judging by the dust-worn plaque and courtyard overrun with ivy, it clearly saw fewer visitors. The kind of place that would look the other way if you slit someone’s throat as long as you left enough silver behind. Might even help you bury a corpse if you offered a little extra. Not that Hua Cheng needed help with that sort of thing, but a bleeding man invited unnecessary attention at first glance.

It was the perfect place to go unquestioned.

He dropped the pouch of coins on the counter, not bothering with greetings. The inn owner ushered them to the best room available. The cultivator protested in response, grumbling about wasting money, but his objections died in his throat when Hua Cheng pulled him along towards the stairs, ignoring his complaints.

The room was located near the end of the corridor on the second level. It was spacious enough with one bed and a low table in the center.

Hua Cheng helped the cultivator settle on the bed, the old wood creaked, groaning under the weight.

Soon enough, someone rapped on the door. An unassuming servant entered, carrying a vessel of clean water and necessary supplies. His eyes landed on the bleeding man and he quickly looked away from the distressing sight. He asked if they needed help and at Hua Cheng’s cool ‘no’, he bowed his head in haste and scrambled out.

As the door slid shut, Hua Cheng looked at the cultivator sitting on the bed with a neutral expression. For a long moment, no one spoke a word, silence carried through the room like high tide.

“Strip,” he demanded and caught the cultivator's hardened face. A tiny flicker of regret crept in out of nowhere. He could have maintained decorum, but he didn't have the patience for polite words.

“You do lack courtesy,” the cultivator quipped, though he complied silently. His lean fingers started to undo the blood-soaked sash. His white robes were threadbare in some places, but pristine otherwise. His face remained solemn, contrary to before where he still was at ease despite the pain. Now that was gone.

Hua Cheng averted his eyes as the layers were removed. He plucked the piece of cloth left on the table and dipped the fabric in the water and moved towards the bed.

The cultivator had let the outer robe slip past his shoulders to his waist, exposing his jutting collarbone in the hollow of the neck, starvation visible. The inner robe was removed partly, leaving the gash bare to the eyes.

The white bands on his neck and wrist were still fixed firmly to his skin. As if they were part of his body that he refused to separate. He didn't seem bothered by the nakedness of flesh – his faint scars and pale skin on display to a stranger – but real vulnerability would have been if he were fully disconnected from them. They could very well be some sort of weapon and defense he kept close. There was no trace of resentful energy or demonic cultivation. But still the lack of spiritual power made no sense. Were the bandages covering - he tucked away that thought for later.

The wound itself didn't look ghastly, even though the cut was deeper than it appeared. Any lesser man would be twisting in agony, unable to withstand the pain.

Hua Cheng was precise in his touch as he cleaned the surface. The cultivator sucked in breath when the pain seared, but his face remained mostly passive.

Hua Cheng was tempted to use his spiritual power to heal it, but it meant giving himself way too easily and caring beyond what he would allow himself to be. This act itself felt unbearably intimate and compassionate. The less it seemed like charitable service he was performing, the more irritated he felt.

He applied the salve, his fingers brushing with delicate touch. As he dressed the wound, wrapping the linen strip around the stomach, the cultivator's hands remained tightened on the edge of the bed, on either side of his thighs. He only winced out loud once.

When Hua Cheng was done, he stepped back and washed his hands in the wooden basin in the corner of the room.

“Thank you for your help,” he heard the cultivator saying, and when he turned to look, the man was getting redressed in his blood stained robes.

“What are you doing?” Hua Cheng asked, thrown off.

“Leaving,” the cultivator said simply. Hua Cheng's eyes remained stuck on the patch of red on the white. The cultivator’s gaze followed his. As if realising how it appeared, he looked away. A tinge of embarrassment crossed his face. For the man who kept to his dignity until now, he was capable of being flustered. Perhaps because Hua Cheng didn't treat him with scorn or mocked his vulnerable situation.

He explained with a sheepish smile, “My spare robes and belongings are lost.”

“Did you get robbed?” Hua Cheng asked directly, cutting through the veiled language.

The cultivator nodded, a bit taken back by Hua Cheng’s piercing query despite him saying ‘lost’.

“There was nothing valuable in it anyway,” he said and then added, looking forlorn. “Besides a bamboo hat.”

The more this person talked, the more puzzled Hua Cheng became.

“Daozhang has peculiar priorities,” he remarked and waited for rebuttal, but the cultivator’s lips only curved in a faint smile.

On the surface, this man was akin to a monk or priest. People like those weren't even interesting to Hua Cheng, he either found them corruptible or too simple. But this man was different. He could have used his powers and skills to live comfortably. If he truly wanted he could have avoided situations such as this. Why purposefully live a difficult life. Could it be twisted principles or something else entirely?

“This one doesn't mean to pry,” Hua Cheng continued, watching as the cultivator finished retying his soiled robes. “But since our paths have been crossed, could you humour me?”

The cultivator adjusted his sleeves absentmindedly and said without looking up. “What do you want to ask?”

“There was no need for daozhang to be polite to those guards.” Hua Cheng leaned back against the window, hands folded in front of his chest. “Was he feeling guilty because he actually went inside the manor and robbed them?”

“What makes you believe that?” the cultivator turned his head, giving full attention.

“Just a hunch.” Hua Cheng shrugged.

“I didn't steal anything,” the cultivator said with no defensiveness in his tone. Just a simple fact. “I only went to look for what was mine.”

“Your bamboo hat?” Hua Cheng guessed.

“Someone took it from outside the shrine,” the cultivator affirmed, pushing back the fringe of hair that had fallen over his face. He further elaborated, “The trail led me to the manor. It was with a worker weeding in the garden.”

“He refused to return it, didn't he?” Hua Cheng wondered, fingers tapping against his forearm. “Instead, he screamed and called you a thief.”

“Yes,” the cultivator admitted, his tone defeated. For the first time since meeting him, Hua Cheng saw the sadness on his face, like he was mourning the loss.

“Why let them attack at all?” Hua Cheng asked.

“Because at first I believed they were only bluffing to hurt me,” the cultivator said, reiterating his point from earlier in the alley. He went on with a touch of conviction, “And inciting violence first seemed unnecessary.”

“Even if it meant protecting yourself?” Hua Cheng prodded, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” the cultivator nodded. What an absurd philosophy. “Now that you’ve received your answer, I think it's time for me to take my leave.” The cultivator stood up, and Hua Cheng’s skin prickled with unease. “Those guards will soon inform their lord and someone will follow us here.” 

Hua Cheng should let the man go. Not meddle further. Yet when he looked at this person, he was feeling a myriad of emotions. Maybe it was the way this person smiled, both as embarrassment and apology. Or the way he held himself, with decency and no self-pity. He was looking out not to cause unintentional problems for a stranger in his own humble way.

Hua Cheng opened his mouth, his words working faster than his brain could catch up.

“Daozhang should stay here for tonight. At least until the injury is healed,” He suggested with a smile he didn't offer strangers without it being mocking. “You would waste my effort if you moved now. As for the guards, rest assured. I can handle them.”

“You have already done much,” the cultivator insisted, words laced with genuine concern. “I haven't even introduced myself properly. I can't let you to—”

“If you stayed here for one night, it wouldn't make a difference to me.” Hua Cheng reasoned it didn't cost him anything. “And I haven't told you my name either.”

There was no need to exchange their names to begin with if there was no further acquaintance to maintain. Why care about personal introductions?

“I am Xie Lian,” the cultivator said and the name itself didn't bring any recognition to Hua Cheng. It just felt oddly fitting to this man. Suitable to his temperament and quiet disposition. He paused, looking at the door, “I still think it would be wise to part ways.” He looked conflicted. “I cannot impose myself on you more than I already have.”

The underlying pride and sense of honor seemed to take precedence for him.

Hua Cheng didn't know why he found it appealing. Normally, he preferred to take apart these emotions, just to see what lay beneath such a person. He always spotted tiny specks of arrogance lurking behind carefully maintained facades obscured with gentleness. Here, he was having difficulty finding it.

Before he could think of anything else, he was offering something he couldn't take back, “You can call me…San Lang.”

It was one of the many aliases he had come up with while travelling. But the name never came out easily. It just sat there in his psyche, rusting there for centuries with disuse.

Xie Lian blinked at the name, probably suspecting it wasn't real. Still, he smiled politely, never once giving a look of doubt. “I am grateful to San Lang for treating my injury. But as I said -”

“Does daozhang think I have an ulterior motive?” Hua Cheng interjected deliberately, not lingering on the way San Lang sounded in that sweet polite voice. 

Xie Lian’s eyes widened with mild panic. He hesitated for a beat, then rushed to deny it. “That’s not–”

“There's no need to lie.” Hua Cheng grinned widely, bearing his sharp teeth. “I would be more disappointed and offended if you didn't think of me as a threat.”

The look on Xie Lian’s face said he found the blatant admission baffling. Though he spoke with a calm demeanor. “San Lang seems like a straightforward person. Since we aren't pretending, we can be honest to each other.”

“I haven't been anything but honest to you from the start.” Hua Cheng didn't want to withhold the fact he was dangerous. Clearly, he wasn't hiding it either.

Xie Lian pursed his lips, observing him with bemused expression. “Is that so? That's good to hear.”

Just to be a nuisance, Hua Cheng added, “If I change my mind throughout the night, I'll let you know.”

“That's reassuring,” Xie Lian commented dryly and Hua Cheng found himself admiring the humour. “I think I'll leave in the morning then. Or before if you get tired of me.”

The last sentence grated on his nerves. It was meant as a jest. Then why did he feel attacked? 

“You should rest. I’ll be downstairs,” he announced and left the room, many thoughts swirling in his mind.

His first instinct was to approach the innkeeper and order food, along with new robes to be brought.

“Make sure they are plain. Preferably white,” he mentioned and paid more. Bizarre that he cared about the color of fabric, when he himself didn't care about his own clothing. He wore simple grey and blues, befitting of a peasant man, foregoing his favourite vibrant red of devastation and slaughter.

Feeling revolted against his own instincts, he paced the sparsely filled inn hall.

Xie Lian. The name echoed in his mind, but it couldn't conjure up any memory. The man must come from a once-prestigious family. His youthful face couldn't be trusted to determine his actual age. Although he couldn't be older than Hua Cheng…or could he? It shouldn't matter. This meeting was a chance and it would end by choice.

Xie Lian never asked for help. It was him who interfered, intruded without a substantial reason. Him helping on a whim was understandable. He had aided Yin Yu afterall and also gained from his service. This need not to be different, no matter the circumstances.

As he was reminded of the ghost city, he checked on the situation there through wraith butterflies. They hovered in the right places in unnoticed cracks. But they were mostly lethal. Deadliest for those he wanted to target. He distracted himself with matters that weren't important and required his immediate oversight.

By the time he climbed the stairs, night was sunken more into the dark. Part of him expected to find the room empty. The man could've fled. It was more logical than courting danger and uncertainties. Yet there he was.

Xie Lian sat on the bed cross-legged with his eyes closed, dressed now in different robes. Foregoing the milky white he was wearing before. The color was dull and the fabric appeared more rough. It was sent up by the servants earlier.

Xie Lian blinked his eyes open and a warm smile bloomed on his face as Hua Cheng entered the room without knocking. Under the candle light, he was a portrait of peace and radiance.

The food was laid out on the low table. It appeared untouched, bowls covered with lids.

“You didn't eat?” Hua Cheng frowned, confused by the odd behaviour.

“I didn't know it was for me,” Xie Lian said. His tone carried either naive formality or quiet pride, Hua Cheng couldn't tell which. “And it'd have been rude for me to eat without my host.”

“Has anyone told you,” Hua Cheng drawled, his boots thudding on the wooden floor as he crossed the room, “this much politeness can get you in trouble?”

Xie Lian leaned back slightly, but met his eyes with no fear. “I get in trouble all the time,” he said sincerely. “There is nothing novel about that. And it's the impoliteness that causes strife.”

“You don't like to be indebted, do you?” Hua Cheng asked, a flicker of irritation curling inside him.

“Does San Lang like that people owe him?” Xie Lian retorted, smiling. His voice wasn't arrogant, merely curious.

“If it benefits me, then yes,” Hua Cheng confirmed, voice flat.

Xie Lian didn't flinch. He tilted his head in understanding. “San Lang is indeed honest. Not many people admit that outright.”

“If you are done evaluating me, eat something,” Hua Cheng pressed and turned his back to the bed.

“Won’t you eat?” Xie Lian questioned, his tone gently probing, hopeful even.

“I am not hungry,” Hua Cheng stated, and yet he walked to the table and sat down.

Xie Lian followed suit and took a seat across from him, moving gingerly.

Hua Cheng uncovered the lids from the bowls. The rice and chicken soup were no longer steaming.

“It’s gone cold,” he commented as matter of fact.

Xie Lian’s face didn't lose its spark.“I can eat this! No need to waste the food.” He stretched out a hand to take the bowl.

“I can tell them to reheat it,” Hua Cheng offered.

“That won't be necessary. This is more than fine,” Xie Lian said quickly. “Unless you prefer to…”

“I told you I am not hungry,” Hua Cheng emphasized. “Go ahead.”

Xie Lian held his gaze for a long moment, as if trying to figure him out once more. He didn't insist or assume again, reaching for the chopsticks. “Alright.”

He ate with the composure of a man who hadn't been injured and struggling with starvation. Until he knocked over a cup of water, soaking the wood. He laughed nervously, close to choking on the rice as he mumbled countless apologies.

Hua Cheng realized too late that he was smiling - an amused huff of breath escaping him. It unsettled him. An involuntary reaction, like a loss of control over his own crafted body.

Xie Lian lifted his eyes to notice his expression but didn't comment. He was fighting his own awkwardness and focused back on eating, fingers tightening on the chopsticks and stuffed his mouth with chicken.

Once the dinner was done and table cleaned, Hua Cheng decided to excuse himself, “I’ll be outside.”

“You're going to keep watch?” Xie Lian inquired, his eyebrows pulled together in disapproval. “We can do it in shifts if you don't mind.”

Hua Cheng would have appreciated the sentiment if he was mortal and required another assistance. Therefore he blurted, “I am used to not sleeping.”

Xie Lian looked stunned at the answer. But ever polite, he didn't object and respected his host’s wishes. Like an obedient child, he got into bed. The stiff movement of his limbs and slow gait was a constant reminder that he wasn't unaffected as he showed.

Hua Cheng left the room, closing the door softly behind him. He stood in the corridor for an incense time, unmoored by the entire conversation. Eventually he wandered outside the inn, drifting into the small courtyard.

The smell of wet soil still persisted in the surroundings. The moon was crescent tonight and the inky sky was suffused with grey clouds.

Hua Cheng observed with an indifference of the man who found no meaning in changing scenery.

He should’ve left. Instead he was entangled in the mystery of a cultivator who was either as gracious as he looked or concealing a deeper wound. Hua Cheng wanted to peel back further and uncover hidden layers. He was fixated on figuring out this riddle of a man. This newly formed interest startled him.

It reminded him of how that gluttonous snob, He Xuan, used to snark about his lack of affliction.

You need an obsession, Crimson Rain. Something that doesn't involve aimless wandering and lashing out with violence when you think it's justified. Believe me, that won't scratch the itch. You need clear intent for going on. Black Water had said it once, sprawled across gambling den’s expensive divan, munching incessantly on tender delicacies – courtesy of Hua Cheng's endless hospitality, which was always taken for granted.

Most of the time, Black Water irked him. Even he wasn't sure why he tolerated another calamity’s presence. In truth, he didn't need an acquaintance or spies in heaven. Whatever happened in the heavenly court was none of his business. The only reason he thought of agreeing to this partnership was that he didn't want to remain blindsided if he was cornered by those trash gods. In the end, it didn't hurt to have a pair of eyes on the heavenly matters that concerned him.

He always wanted to remain powerful. He may not have purpose, but the hunger to remain undefeated and formidable was unshakable. Even though it felt pointless sometimes, he didn't give up on growing influential and protecting his territory.

He had no other obsession, as He Xuan would put it, calling it unfathomable for a ghost powerful as him. Nobody emerged from Mount Tonglu without an intense feeling. Be it hatred. Rage. Or something more twisted. Hua Cheng came out with a gaping hole. He wasn't whole. Just a husk of man with no attachment. It was as if his memories were sacrificed in the process of coming out victorious.

Sometimes that bastard would change his tune and say maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Perhaps Hua Cheng's reason to remain was to live a life he didn't get to live as mortal. There didn't have to be a grand meaning. Hua Cheng would have agreed if there was any joy he felt. What would have been more seemly had his soul not latched onto this world and went back into the reincarnation cycle.

Crimson Rain Sought Flower’s followers spoke of him with reverence, some even went far to worship him. But nobody knew he wasn't as poised as he appeared to be. He Xuan had observed him for decades and concluded one evening, You don't know what you are searching for, do you?

It had terrified him then, to be this vulnerable and exposed in the face of someone whose entire existence was burning with a single minded goal. Hua Cheng couldn't fool another ghost king. Or perhaps he was truly pathetic that someone who didn't know him could see straight through him. Someone who clung desperately to his reason for existing. Hua Cheng, on the other hand, couldn't even keep his, if there had ever been one. Whatever it might have been, he was done searching. There was only resentment mounting, with bitterness swelling up his insides.

He thought back to Xie Lian, his cordial temperament, disturbing principles and clumsy attitude. He was like a paint that splattered on Hua Cheng by mistake, striking in its hue and sticky in its nature. Hua Cheng was unable to wash it off. Not yet.

Chapter Text

Unconsciously, Xie Lian had shifted onto his side, causing the dull ache to flare into sharp pain. Sleep had lulled him, defying his intention to stay awake, and the exhaustion from the injury lay upon him heavily. His breaths were shallow and the faint scent of blood and herbs lingered on his skin. He carefully moved onto his back, unaccustomed to the comfort of soft sheets beneath him. His body remembered hard floors as he was used to taking shelter in caves or sleeping on the grassy meadows beneath starry skies.

The pain itself hadn't been the worst he’d ever endured. If he had to rank it, it’d sit somewhere low on the list, assuming he ever kept a mental list of his woes. He saw no point in reliving his misery, although getting stabbed did bring back recollection of an awful number of past torments he'd rather not think about.

However, it was a muscle memory at this point. The only bright side to this – he’d even considered patting himself on the back for it – was that it'd been more than a decade since any blade penetrated his body. The last time had been in the far north where he was trampled, and had to fake his death to escape the dire circumstances. It took him many years to recuperate and heal his wounds after being cut down.

After not so much time had passed, something like this was bound to happen. Like a debt waiting to be collected.

He’d assumed the guards only wanted to get him to their lord and certainly not interested in exploiting the opportunity to indulge in their violent urges. He didn't think better of them out of naivety, it was just that he was looking for an opening to ask more about that servant, who apparently took his hat and sack of scraps, and fled.

But he had stretched his non-existent luck too far. The only silver lining was that the wound wasn't deep enough to gut him in the organs. Though on any other person, it would have been enough to bleed them to death if not stitched together.

Over the last couple of days, he’d accumulated a good amount of valuable junk across several towns, breaking his dry spell. He had repaired most of them, turning into near new condition. Occasionally, he found it astounding how easily people threw out things, discarding those which no longer served a purpose. Even the good ones, because most didn't find value in even slightly broken things.

As a result of the scraps, he had been in a great mood, thinking of selling most of it. He’d even looked forward to eating a full meal, something he hadn't had in a while. He had planned to get as many steamed buns as he could stomach. To his embarrassment, he had dreamed about his time in Yong’an palace, the only memorable time he had a rare opportunity to devour exquisite dishes. It had been centuries ago, and he avoided thinking about it.

For whenever Lang Qianqiu appeared in his mind, the phantom of that old pain returned in full force. A sharp sting that came and went like a powerful storm, leaving destruction in its wake. And that had nothing to do with the way he was nailed inside that coffin. Thinking about that time accomplished nothing. It was a dead weight on his chest he would rather leave behind him.

In the end, he did get to eat a full meal, but it wasn't earned through his own labour. Meeting the mysterious man was purely an accident, at least on his part. He couldn't say for sure whether this person who called himself San Lang was bored as he claimed to be. The man was dressed in humble clothing, but he carried a pouch full of coins and wasted it on a stranger like Xie Lian without a second thought.

He had said he felt this obligation because Xie Lian had bumped into him. If not for him grabbing Xie Lian's wrist and refusing to let go, Xie Lian would have avoided those guards and successfully slipped away. Xie Lian could wager, it was in that moment, San Lang had sensed that he wasn't an ordinary man.

San Lang had made it clear he acted on a whim.

Xie Lian had received kindness from plenty of people in his long life of wandering through the mortal realm. Everyone had plenty of reasons to step in and provide aid. But he never accepted anything excessive, never overstayed the welcome, nor did anyone offer something beyond the confine of their own convenience. Furthermore, he always offered his service in return, even if it was negligible in comparison.

He hadn't sensed any malicious intent from San Lang. But this man clearly wasn't what he appeared to be. And getting involved with something Xie Lian didn't understand yet, especially in this vulnerable situation, was not going to help.

He breathed deeply through his nose, eyes closed and body taut. He could feel the heat burning through his skin. It was a familiar sensation. He drifted back into darkness, his immortal body compensating in only way it could - going unconscious - to fight back the surge of fever.

He swam through a stream of half-remembered memories and echoes of visions which made no sense.

A bloody moon in the sky, getting higher and bigger. A raven screaming, perched on the low hanging branch. And a bright lonely star illuminating nothing.

The metallic taste returned in the back of his throat. A sword heavy in his hand and rain that splattered against the ground in an intense fall, like heaven was weeping a tragedy. A tremor passed through him, shaky and involuntary, as he felt the dampness on his forehead.

He couldn't tell what was real and what was a reimagining of his lowest moments. He lay there, sprawled in a hole, steeped in dirt and mud. There was no hope left in him, yet he was waiting for someone to save him, to show him there was light he could reach for and pull him out of the bottomless pit of his darkness. He waited for the bamboo hat to appear, knowing this time it wasn't coming.

He heard a murmur of voice and brush of touch that felt achingly cold on his warm skin. His closed eyes squeezed tight on impulse and hands fisted in the blanket, reaching for some kind of anchor.

Sometimes, this unfeeling, indecisive numb state of mind was a gentle caress over the unflinching reality of traversing the world. He felt tired, drained in a way centuries of hardships sucked the enthusiasm out of him. A moment of respite was a necessary thing, to soothe his bone weary soul, before he could prepare himself to face the world head on.

He remembered San Lang's dispassionate gaze, bored look that turned into creeping interest with a sharp smile. Teasing tilt of his voice that was both enticing and open challenge. Xie Lian didn't want to be a burden, yet he was lost in the comfort.

It had been a while since he felt this safe. He floated back, sinking deeper into his clouded mind.

The first sign of awareness was heaviness in his limbs and fresh ache he registered in places that hadn't been there before. He fully woke up, only after the piercing sound of the rooster's call. A grating cry that cleared his foggy brain, shattering the illusion.

The inn ceiling was the same dusty wooden beams. He was still lying on the bed, with a blanket tucked below his chin. On his right, morning light poured in through the window and a stream of cool breeze flowed inside. Though the heat in the room hadn't cooled yet, indicating lanterns burned all night and the window had only been left ajar recently. There was otherwise deep quiet inside, besides the earlier morning shrill sound that disturbed the peacefulness.

On his left, San Lang was sitting on the chair beside the bed, eyes closed and posture relaxed. He leaned back at ease like someone who owned this place. He still wore grey robes tinged with blue, his hair was tied in a perfect ponytail. His features were sharp, face of an undoubtedly handsome man. He managed to look both old and young at the same time.

As if sensing Xie Lian's eyes on him, he suddenly spoke, “Daozhang is finally awake.”

Xie Lian was startled for a moment, absorbing the unexpected observation and leisurely tone. He blinked his eyes, not sure how long he had been asleep, his throat worked around the words, but only a rasp came out, weak and miserable.

San Lang leaned forward and filled in the gap, “You caught a fever yesterday morning.”

A quick rush of breath escaped Xie Lian. His eyes landed on the white bowl and strip of cloth doused in water. It rested on the table as undeniable proof of care.

As the realization kicked in, a wave of panic washed over him. In haste, he shoved the blanket off him and shot up on the bed. But at once he winced as the bandages were pulled around his mid section, the abrupt movement causing a burning spasm.

“There’s no need to be stressed,” San Lang said quietly, eyes moving to Xie Lian's stomach.

“I sincerely apologize,” Xie Lian mumbled, voice remorseful and shame seeping in. “I didn't mean to inconvenience you. I'll…leave without a delay.”

San Lang, for all his concern, smiled slyly. “Does daozhang think he can leave this easily? I only agreed to tend to your injury, not help you back to health and keep vigil at your bed as the fever subsided.”

Xie Lian had met numerous men who went back on their words and changed their tune when something no longer benefitted them. He shouldn't be disappointed. And San Lang wasn't speaking a lie, he was merely pointing out a true fact. On other hand, it didn't seem like he was pulling Xie Lian's leg to mock him or jesting. His expression was solemn, looking absolutely earnest.

“San Lang is right,” Xie Lian said, forcing a friendly smile. His fingers gripped the blankets at his side tightly. “What can I do to repay your kindness?”

San Lang's eyes narrowed, he looked pleased with what he found on Xie Lian's face. To put it more precisely, he resembled a predator waiting for its prey to walk into the trap by himself. Had he been looking out for opportunity this entire time?

Xie Lian didn't fear anything, except a few things from his past which were no longer present. He hadn't encountered anything that made him feel that kind of fear.

San Lang let out a huff, a breath of amusement. “I don't think there is anything you can repay me with which I don't already have,” He continued, fingers tapping on the chair arm. His voice shifted into a more measured tone. “Though I am interested in knowing more about your situation.” His eyes flicked to Xie Lian's neck, where white bands were protecting his shackle. “But only if daozhang is interested in revealing his secrets to withstand stab wounds without stitches and his skills in fighting without any spiritual power.”

It was too direct. Not at all what Xie Lian had expected. This was strong unusual interest, paired with seldom-seen straightforwardness. But hadn't he himself said they could be honest with each other?

He tried to reply calmly, “If San Lang already suspects this much, he must have come to his own conclusions, which may be not far from the truth. I am afraid my answers won’t be that exciting.”

San Lang stood up slowly, hands on his waist as he circled the bed.

“Only I can be the judge of that after having heard your story,” he said, his smile was gone. “My intention is not to force you. Just remember that you can't return the favour by only expressing gratitude.”

There was no trace of smirk on his face, nor even a faint indication of victory in his voice. Xie Lian didn't know if it was deliberate manipulation or something else. Had he misread important signs?

“San Lang is putting me in a difficult situation,” He laid it out plainly, with no appealing words or false flattery to soften the situation. “I am not used to sharing my past with someone I barely know. And I just can’t just walk away shouldering this debt.”

“That's not my concern, Daozhang,” San Lang said, unbothered.

“Then how about this,” Xie Lian began, catching San Lang's interest as he intended. “I'll follow you for a few days. If I am comfortable enough, I'll share what I can. If not, I'll leave.”

“That's a dangerous proposition,” San Lang remarked. A beat passed before he asked, “What makes you believe you won't end up in more debt?”

The question was blunt and a little cruel. But it was valid according to what he had observed so far.

Xie Lian breathed evenly. “I don't make a habit of it. I survive by myself fine.”

“Do you?” San Lang quipped. It was the first time he used a mocking tone. Not in derision, it seemed like an irritated exasperation. “Your notion of survival needs assessment.”

Xie Lian felt a pang of hurt at those words. He never hoped anyone would understand what survival meant to him. Living, to him, was an everyday battle. One he participated in willingly. 

He gave a small laugh, rubbing his forehead nervously with his fingers. “I won't create problems for you. What does San Lang really think?”

In truth, his plan was to help San Lang in some way and get this off his chest. He had no intention of sharing his past or revealing anything about his identity.

“If that's what makes daozhang feel better, be my guest.” San Lang said, lips curled upward in a mirthless smile. But in his eyes, a glint of something was coming alive.

Xie Lian wanted to believe it was genuine curiosity. He watched as San Lang excused himself, walking towards the door. He muttered something about getting a bland breakfast - likely congee, because that best served Xie Lian’s current fragile constitution. He cast a single passing glance at Xie Lian over his shoulder and then closed the door.

Xie Lian was left in puzzled silence and body pulsing with the aftermath of fever and uncertainty. He pulled the blanket over, and leaned back against the pillow. If something was going to change, he might as well relish in this rare mercy and moment of extended solace. Who knew how long before his luck would take a turn? One thing he learned was to cherish the present, no matter what was waiting for him ahead.

Chapter Text

The next morning, they prepared to leave the inn – if it could even be called ‘preparing’, given their possessions consisted of nothing but the clothes on their backs. Hua Cheng had no need for anything else; he could bring forth material things as he wished. As for Xie Lian, whatever he had with him was stolen, he was no different than a monk with no attachment. 

By the time they descended the steps and reached the inn's common hall, it had started raining outside. It wasn't pouring, but a persistent streak of drizzle slicked the streets. It was expected, grey clouds had been threatening to muddy the town for some time. What Hua Cheng hadn't expected was Xie Lian's gloomy face at the sight, though he quickly schooled his expression, not wanting to appear bothered by something as simple as rain.

Hua Cheng suspected the reason, having seen it in the restless tapping of Xie Lian’s fingers on the teacup, the impatient glance toward the window, and the way he tossed and turned in bed. 

He seemed like a man who didn’t like being trapped in a place. He longed to wander under the open sky – or perhaps staying at someone else's mercy made him uneasy. 

Still, leaving in the rain didn't bode well for his recovering condition. 

Without thinking, Hua Cheng fetched an umbrella from the innkeeper. It was worn out, the cover loose from years of use. The colour was dull, a once-bright yellow that had faded into sun-dried straw. Not something Hua Cheng would have normally chosen. 

Xie Lian shot him a confused look. "It isn't necessary. We could have waited for some time."

“I don't want to delay the journey,” Hua Cheng stressed, his words echoing like a final decision.

Xie Lian looked like he might insist otherwise, but in the end he didn't protest.

Yesterday evening, after his fever was fully gone and his proposition to follow Hua Cheng had settled into reality, he'd asked, “Where are you going to head next? I don't mean to intrude, but you don't happen to live nearby, do you?” 

Hua Cheng was tempted to mess with him. “What if I do live in this town? Are you going to follow me into my house?”

Xie Lian had regarded him coolly, curling up on the bed. “I wouldn't want to presume, but if you lived here, you would have said so.”  

Hua Cheng smirked. “You are too confident. But have you thought…if I go somewhere dangerous, would you follow me there blindly?” 

Xie Lian gave him a polite smile. “I can handle danger.”

After that, Hua Cheng hadn't bothered with another conversation. He only informed the time they would leave the inn the next morning, and left the man alone. 

Now they were both walking under the same umbrella, shoulders touching as they stepped out of the obscure inn, leaving behind the shady alleys and quiet corners. The umbrella wasn't big enough, clearly built for one person. Hua Cheng tilted it toward Xie Lian, leaving his own shoulder soaked in trickling water. 

Back at the inn, he could have asked for another. His thinking was flawless; he always prepared ahead. But somehow the thought didn’t cross his mind. He didn't want to dwell on the why, because as he thought of walking apart, the idea held no appeal. 

Since meeting this stranger, his mind had been a whirlwind of emotions that led him to decisions he would never otherwise make on a whim. He told himself the fascination would fade. And when it did, the bland truth would stand bare, making this a tale of rare indulgence.

He gripped the handle of the umbrella tighter and kept walking. The streets were sparse, half the shops were closed, and people retreated back into their homes. 

Xie Lian was quiet. But when he noticed Hua Cheng was growing drenched, he shifted aside. Hua Cheng stubbornly covered him again. Xie Lian eyed him once, then tried again to put distance between them, but had to yield to Hua Cheng's relentless resistance. It was a ridiculous, almost childish thing and yet Hua Cheng participated in it. 

The thought of Xie Lian getting sick again didn't sit right with him. Of course, it would be troublesome. He had no wish to nurse the man back to health again, nor listen to his feverish nightmares.

Now and then, Xie Lian glanced back, as if he were looking for someone – or leaving something behind. But he didn't voice out loud or object to departing.

As they walked and walked, padding through the sodden earth, and on the verge of crossing the threshold of the town when the rain intensified.

“There's an abandoned shrine I stayed at before,” Xie Lian said, pointing towards the path covered with thick and wild grass. “We can take shelter there until it clears.” 

No matter the excruciating circumstances, Hua Cheng would never think of taking refuge under a god's roof. However, the unsaid expectation in Xie Lian's voice to be listened to was too great to ignore. Even if he wanted to, Hua Cheng didn’t have it in himself to say no. Therefore, he nodded, silently following Xie Lian's lead. 

The shrine was as dilapidated as expected. With moldering wood and leaking tiles. The idol was unrecognizable, its craftsmanship eroded by time, stone speckled with moss. Judging by the unkempt condition, it must have been a local deity that was no longer worshipped by the townsfolk. Hua Cheng sneered inwardly, finding the predictability pathetic. When there was nothing to gain, no response to their mortal troubles, people moved on, forgetting things that no longer benefitted them.

Below the splintered altar, Hua Cheng’s eyes caught a bamboo hat and white tattered sack slumped on the floor, appearing out of place in the otherwise desolate surrounding. He was closing the umbrella and stepping inside when Xie Lian let out a breathy gasp and rushed towards the statue. 

They were his belongings.

He picked up the hat from the ground and almost hugged it before lifting it over his head. String dangled from its edge, dusty and old, but strong enough to hold. It suited Xie Lian to have it over him. He looked beyond happy, his smile blinding.

It was absurd to be this overjoyed over a bamboo hat. Hua Cheng had observed people up close. He had witnessed everything from greedy pleasure over riches to contentment over simple things. This was something else. It didn’t make sense. What was more surprising, he couldn’t look away.

He walked inside, placing the closed umbrella near the crumbling wall. He was about to deliver a quick remark when Xie Lian picked up the sack as well and opened it. His smile faded, disappointment settling over his features.

“What happened?” Hua Cheng asked, moving closer to take a better look. 

“Nothing. These are my robes,” Xie Lian replied, voice small.

“Didn't you say there was nothing else valuable?” Hua Cheng raised an eyebrow, recalling the words clearly.

“Oh, it wasn't important,” Xie Lian muttered. “Just some scrap.” 

“Scrap?” Hua Cheng repeated, puzzled. 

“Ah, yes,” Xie Lian nodded, his tone a little nervous, though there was no shame in his words. “Things I collected along the way. Some of which I’d mended.” 

Hua Cheng blinked, not sure how to make sense of it. Did this person really collect junk? Not that Hua Cheng cared about or judged someone's way of living. But this was perplexing to say the least. As he pictured Xie Lian bending low to pick up trash, it wasn't a pleasant feeling. He felt a pang of twisted aggravation and indignity. Yet he could imagine Xie Lian doing it with his dignity intact, unflinching in how he faced the world.

“So this thief kept the ‘scrap’, but returned your clothes and hat,” Hua Cheng remarked flatly. It made some sense. The clothes and hat were worthless compared to things that possibly contained metal and repaired objects.

“Perhaps he felt guilt after hearing from the guards,” Xie Lian pondered. He tilted his head, explaining, “The first thing I asked him after finding him again was to ask for the hat. Turns out, his guilt wasn't strong enough to return everything.” 

“Because he is still a piece of–” Hua Cheng stopped himself, not understanding his anger. It was injustice, sure, but wasn't it hypocritical of him to be upset? Usually he turned blind eye towards such things if the matter didn't concern him personally. 

“Maybe he is, but it's harsh to judge directly,” Xie Lian mildly defended. “When I came to this shrine, there was someone sleeping in the corner. His eyes were red from crying. I had asked what happened once, but he didn't answer. I didn’t know it was him then, but his condition was worse than mine,” Xie Lian divulged, as if all of this was too easy to justify. He paused, voice soft as he added, “I am just glad that he decided to return it.” 

Hua Cheng didn't want to debate, so he settled for another question. “Is this why you wanted to come to this place again? You were hoping?” 

“I wasn't really hoping,” Xie Lian said, his hand moved to touch the hat, tracing his fingers along the brim. “Parting without it felt incomplete. If there was a chance, I wanted to revisit the memory where it was stolen.” 

“What's so special about it?” Hua Cheng inquired.

Xie Lian hesitated and then avoided his eyes. His gaze lingered on the statue of the deity, lost in thought.

“It was given by someone when I needed it most,” he answered at last and fell silent. 

Hua Cheng didn't press further. He did want to dig deeper and find out beyond surface level truth, but Xie Lian looked nowhere near ready to disclose his past.

“Daozhang must have interesting stories. If only he’d share them,” he reminded the reason for this journey. He didn’t know if Xie Lian would actually keep his word. Hua Cheng was no fool. He could see through the unwillingness. 

“It’s not as interesting as you think,” Xie Lian dismissed the notion, trying to shrug it off. “And San Lang – you can call me by my name. 

Hua Cheng blinked, not expecting Xie Lian was bothered by his impersonal choice of address.

“I am not yet sure if daozhang is older or younger,” he pointed out. “It would be impolite to assume.” 

Truthfully, it felt too personal. For some reason, his tongue didn't roll to form the syllables. He had a doubt whether it was a real name. But why did it matter? He himself used fake aliases, changed skins like discarding clothes. Names weren't important, the intent behind how they were said made a difference.

Xie Lian seemed relaxed. “Don't worry about it. I am using yours. It's only fair.”

“But what if I’m older?” Hua Cheng pressed on, voice slipping into a more teasing tone than he wanted. 

Xie Lian had a thoughtful look on his face. Like he was considering the possibility for real. He slowly asked, “Then…should I call San Lang, gege?” 

The word landed like an unintended drop of weight, making Hua Cheng’s chest constrict. It was said lightly, more with innocent curiosity and teasing than mocking. Why did it feel like he could get addicted to the sound of it? He fought the strange emotion, shaking himself free from its hold.

“This problem would be solved if daozhang just revealed his age,” he countered, poking to see if he could draw any information.

“I’m afraid I stopped counting,” Xie Lian answered, meeting his eyes calmly. “It'd be hard to tell exactly.” 

Hua Cheng believed it when he shouldn't. Perhaps it was the weariness in Xie Lian's tone that sealed the truth for him. 

“Then I should be the one calling daozhang, gege.” He didn't mean to say it. Certainly not earnestly.

He just wanted to taste the word in his mouth, to hear how it sounded. He'd never used it sincerely, not respected someone enough to even pretend. Wherever he went, he was the most ancient. His superiority was undeniable, even when he dressed in unassuming attire. There was never a question of bending his language or softening the words for others beyond his own preference.

There was a flash of flustered look on Xie Lian's face. For that alone, it felt worth the risk, despite how exposed he felt. This was stupid. Utterly stupid. 

“San Lang can address me as he seems fit,” Xie Lian said with a faint smile. He was offering Hua Cheng free rein to act according to his comfort. He was being generous, but it felt like a trap. Hua Cheng didn't want his generosity, but neither was he interested in playing this game.

Sensing his silence, Xie Lian backpedaled, “It doesn't really matter. It's just that we are already traveling like this, calling each other by names feels more appropriate.” 

“Does it?” Hua Cheng mused.

 “Yes,” Xie Lian nodded, and then continued, “It's alright if San Lang doesn't see it the same way.” 

Hua Cheng found himself laughing. This whole exchange was absurd, something he never thought he'd have with a stranger he barely knew for more than three days.

Xie Lian’s face wilted.

The feeling of irritation was instant on Hua Cheng’s skin. He clarified, “Daozhang can rest assured. I'll call him Gege if I feel like it.” 

Xie Lian looked at him with disbelief, as if he was masking the hurt. “San Lang is mocking me.” 

“I have been the most sincere since I met you,” Hua Cheng said and then blurted out. “Not once did I think of making fun of you.” 

The confession hung in the shrine like a sudden gust of wind, strong enough to shake the structure.

The only sound was of that sloshing of water, accompanied by occasional rustling of leaves. The silence stretched on like a tendril of suffocation around his ribs. He breathed the air he didn’t need, smelling freshly damp soil and rotting leaves. When did giving himself away become this easy? The admission even startled himself, and the same staggering look reflected back at him. 

Though Xie Lian recovered quickly. He spoke first, changing the subject. “I forgot to ask!” His gaze locked on Hua Cheng's sleeve, which had turned wet from shielding him earlier. “You need a change of clothes.” 

“There's no need,” Hua Cheng declined. The chilling dampness was more grounding than these foreign emotions. “I can manage.” 

“You aren't cold?” Xie Lian asked, still clutching his bag of clothes. If anything, he should be the one feeling cold, as he was wearing thin robes.

“I don't get sick,” Hua Cheng didn't lie, but neither did he tell the truth outright. Xie Lian could interpret each small piece of information as he wished. 

“Alright,” Xie Lian said, and then moved into one corner. He put the hat and sack aside and sat on the filthy floor without hesitation. 

For a brief moment, Hua Cheng had this intense urge. A tide that rose without warning – to take this man to Paradise Manor. It wouldn't take more than flick of his fingers and rolling of the dice. Every need would be met, from dry clothes to warm food. It was one thing to desire it for himself. But to wish it for someone else, the thought of providing for another – that wasn’t right. Not without making it a transaction. Xie Lian wasn’t Yin Yu, he didn’t ask for help nor was he in need of favor. This was a useless urge. He quelled it before it could take root.

Walking over, he sat down beside the man, not caring about grime and dirt.

Xie Lian smiled at him awkwardly, shifting slightly to leave the dry space for him. There were already wet splotches on the ground, more the reason Xie Lian didn't invite him to sit first. 

Hua Cheng didn't really mind. He'd been through worse, sharing uncomfortable accommodation was nothing. 

Xie Lian pulled his legs together to his chest, arms wrapped around his knees. In that moment, he was an image of innocence and fragility. The kind of flower who grew in a swamp, but there wasn’t a speck of dirt on it. Hua Cheng knew that wasn’t true, it was impossible to remain pure in this kind of world. And finding a man without a vice was like trying to breathe under water. A figment of the imagination. Even if there was such a person, it’d be an empty shell. But the man before him didn’t seem to fit any mold. 

“We could have gone back to the inn,” Xie Lian suddenly mumbled, staring into the darkness ahead – the stark absence of sunlight and the sky filled with lightning clouds.

The whole weather was indeed gloomy, even depressing to some. Hua Cheng had no particular liking for any season. To him nature was just nature. There was no real reason to ascribe meaning to it. His moods never changed due to the effect of the external environment. To him, everything was endless grey. And he was bleeding red, a smudge that refused to be wiped out despite countless efforts.

“This isn't bad. Unless daozhang wishes to go back–”

“No – that's not,” Xie Lian interjected. “It’s…I didn't want to drag you here.” 

“You didn't make me do anything,” Hua Cheng replied. If he couldn't tolerate the company of a person, nothing could make him stay.

Xie Lian observed him, as if he didn't know how to respond. There was a certain disbelief in him at how he ended up in this predicament. 

Hua Cheng shared the same sentiment. Moreover, he was feeling an overwhelming impulse. To topple the situation by using any means. To do something foolish and unravel this mystery of a man and have his answers by force.

It'd be ill-advised, a voice in his head told him. Or maybe he wasn't ready to wade into the truth yet. 

He watched as Xie Lian’s head sank slowly to his knees, eyes closed. He looked at peace, removed from the inescapable noise of the world. 

The rain continued to hammer outside, giving no sign of stopping. A droplet tumbled down from the leaking tile, dropping on Xie Lian’s hair. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. 

The next time the drop fell, Hua Cheng caught it in his palm before it could land.

Chapter Text

The trail was brimming with lush growth awash with morning dew. They had followed a narrow path lined with slender trees, which opened into a wider route. The tender shoots bent softly under the weight of their boots. The rain hadn’t returned, but in the south, spring was known for its frequent showers.

The sun had yet to arise, and the stars were on the cusp of fading into the light. They paused before a broad expanse of land that spanned an arch, extending into highlands ahead. The lowland harboured a large pond in its centre. A lone tree stood tall on the boundary, overlooking the undulating water.

In the distance, a long stretch of mountains filled the sky, their peaks engulfed in the mist. Houses were patchy, scattered along the foothills, with farmlands spread wide between them. The moment’s quiet was broken repeatedly by the ceaseless cacophony of the birdsong.

At first, when Xie Lian spoke of working in the fields to earn food and a place to stay, Hua Cheng almost declined. His flicker of resistance came from knowing he already had more than enough to sustain them. But when it had become them – not just him – was a question he was still wrestling with.

Above all, Xie Lian refused to add to his debt by asking more of Hua Cheng. Even with an injury and no dime to spare, he showed no hint of worry about survival. On the contrary, he looked confident in his ability to get by. And that told Hua Cheng this situation was nowhere near his lowest point. Therefore, when Xie Lian suggested they stop by villages in their path and lend a hand, Hua Cheng saw no point in denying his wish.

With the farming season underway, the work was abundant. Rice transplanting had just begun, and plucking of tea leaves was in full swing. Farmers were ploughing the land and orchards fluttered with blossoms. Loquats and mulberries hung from the branches, ripening with deep blush.

On the way, they had witnessed freshly swept tombs with weeds cut down. Remains of incense and burned paper money lingered near the graves. Along with wilted chrysanthemums and offerings left for the spirits. Qingming had been celebrated with dutiful appreciation in the remembrance of the ancestors.

In the aftermath, the families were engrossed in the mounting toil of monotonous tasks. Qingxi village was a small settlement, not many people to satisfy the seasonal requirement of intense labour. As a result, travelers were welcomed to provide aid in exchange for food and lodging. And as it turned out, they were fortunate enough to find the work on their first attempt, not needing to seek the households beyond the base of the mountains.

As they made themselves comfortable in the courtyard of the Feng family, Xie Lian looked as if he couldn’t believe his luck. The couple had been courteous, offering them food and water and proceeded to make arrangements for guest quarters.

Hua Cheng leaned against the trunk of the osmanthus tree, shoulders sagging as he allowed himself to rest. The sunlight was streaming through the dense canopy, casting shapes of shadow and light under its shade.

Crossing his hands over his chest, he looked at Xie Lian sitting on the bench peeling the lotus seeds. Beside him, a white cat was sprawled on the wood, looking at them with indifference as she yawned leisurely. Xie Lian mumbled to her about their good luck, his nimble fingers working in a repeated motion. He pulled the seeds from the pods with precision and deposited them in the basket.

Hua Cheng wasn’t sure if getting stabbed and following a stranger to whom one owed a debt was considered good fortune. However, Xie Lian’s criteria to measure his luck was apparently different from a normal person. Although he wasn’t naive or overly optimistic as he appeared on the surface, one could easily misjudge him.

After having observed him for a while now, Hua Cheng could deduce the man always prepared for the worst. His gaze was perceptive while maintaining a passive face. His ears were sharp, even catching simple stirring behind grass blades. His movement remained agile, sidestepping obstacles with practiced ease.

Xie Lian didn’t seem to assume the worst in people, but everything about him suggested to Hua Cheng that he would be least surprised if the situation took a turn. Like he was so used to danger that he had learned to be nonchalant about it. To him, every strife was just another day. Thus, he couldn't be bothered. To him, Hua Cheng's presence was seemingly inconsequential.

The thought left Hua Cheng feeling unimportant.

“You don't have to help if you don't want to,” Xie Lian gently said when Hua Cheng remained silent for a long time. He didn't pause, stripping the cover of the seeds effortlessly as if it was his regular chore.

Hua Cheng didn't mean to observe him intently, but his gaze lingered. He followed the flare of light dancing over Xie Lian’s face. His eyes were so deep brown that they almost appeared black. At first impression, they were captivating, from their crescent shape to the softness that allured people. Like peach blossoms swaying in a gentle wind. And as the sunlight touched his long lashes, his irises gleamed under the light, looking more striking than dewdrops on a flower bud.

“San Lang?” Xie Lian’s voice pulled him back.

He had to drag his thoughts from straying into territory it never did before. His behaviour shocked him. Finding someone beautiful was one thing, but to weave poetry about them… he never understood why anyone would feel enthralled by appearances to an extreme.

As if suddenly remembering the situation, Hua Cheng concentrated.

“Does it look like I haven't worked before?” he asked, tone edged.

His frame wasn't bulky, this form being closest to his real one – minus the eye. Despite the lean build, he was strong enough to hold against anything. His body was honed from centuries of spiritual power and numerous battles. He relied on his quick reflexes and exceptional skills with a blade. On his external appearance alone, he couldn't be mistaken for a fragile young master.

Xie Lian was taken aback by the unexpected and cocky response. He stared at Hua Cheng for a long moment, his eyes tracing Hua Cheng’s figure more than it was proper. In the next instant, the tip of his ears reddened, as he belatedly realised he was being impolite.

He lightly cleared his throat. “I didn't… mean to imply that.” He tore his eyes away, almost looking bashful.

Just how easy was it for him to get flustered?

“Then what did you mean, gege?” Hua Cheng drawled, letting the word slip away against his better judgment. He didn’t fight the urge anymore, there was no denying he was growing fond of it. Though hearing it back also had another kind of appeal. It was a terrifying feeling. But cracks had already formed, so why not just find out what was underneath?

Xie Lian seemed pleased for a moment, but he quickly masked the emotion, saying firmly, “I don’t want to trouble you over my choices.”

Hua Cheng wanted to chuckle, but reined himself in. He reiterated the point he had made before, saying, “If I find something troublesome, I won’t do it.”

Xie Lian hesitated, possibly weighing the implications of such a straightforward response given again and again. But in the end he didn't question, deciding to trust Hua Cheng’s decision.

The room prepared for them was on the second storey of the house. It was modest, with two cots set against opposite walls. A thin privacy screen was present nearby, its wooden frame holding a sheet of yellow paper painted with peacocks. Xie Lian went to freshen up first, rebandaging his wound and scrubbing off the dirt attached from the murky roads.

Old man Feng lent Xie Lian a set of rough clothes. They were dull and narrow-sleeved, made to fit the skin closely for swift movement. When Xie Lian emerged from behind the screen, foregoing the white flowy robes, he looked almost unrecognisable. He didn't look bad, just different. And without layers of his daoist robes, he seemed more lean and the curves of his body visible.

Hua Cheng told himself it wasn’t unusual to notice, as he had seen Xie Lian only in white. But then out of nowhere, he imagined him in red and the picture seared in his mind, unbidden but not unwanted. He suppressed the thought quickly, pushing it away.

The Feng couple wasn’t gossipy beyond asking for their names and where they hailed from. Xie Lian dodged the questions he didn't want to answer with seamless grace. Hua Cheng, for his part, didn't divulge his identity beyond the fact he traveled for leisure.

The couple led the way, guiding them through the winding and slippery paths. Closely following behind the pair, Xie Lian walked ahead with his bamboo hat.

The wind was particularly strong, whipping their hair in the wavy current. Hua Cheng’s gaze caught on the white ribbon tied into the back of Xie Lian’s head. It fluttered in the air, away from his tresses.

A strange sense of déjà vu hit Hua Cheng out of nowhere – a brief flash of memory that felt intense. It came down on him like a force of plunging water from top of the mountain. Crashing over him, it left him disoriented. His ghostly heart squeezed, filling his body with heaviness.

The sight wasn’t uncommon. It couldn't have meant anything, yet he couldn't focus.

He desperately wanted to make sense of the feeling, but the more he tried to chase the image in his mind, the more it eluded him. There was nothing to reach for, except the emptiness that gnawed back at him. The memory slipped back, disappearing into cracks as if it never existed.

His jaw tightened. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered when it came to him trying to hold onto a glimpse of something that could have meant something. He carried on, tracking the stretch of white silk with his eyes until it was just a mere cloth that bent in the wind.

The farmland lay tilled, waiting to turn green. There were a dozen other people gathered, from young teenagers to elderly, ready to carry out their share of contribution and jump into the fields.

The soil was muddy, feet sinking easily to the ankles. Young rice seedlings were pulled from the patches of land, reserved for raising nurseries. Transplanting started immediately. One by one, seedlings were carried and pushed into the wet soil. Hua Cheng and Xie Lian followed others’ lead, carrying the green shoots from the wooden tray and bending to press them in the flooded field. In no time, they picked up speed, getting in sync with others.

Hours later, their hands and feet were completely covered in the mud. They couldn't be told apart from the villagers. Xie Lian, in particular, had grown sweaty and tired. Possibly hungry and thirsty, if Hua Cheng had to guess. The obvious reason being his still healing injury that was weighing him down.

Hua Cheng had asked about it before and Xie Lian had brushed it off. There was no doubt by now that his pain tolerance was unarguably high. And despite everything, he had remained cheerful, working diligently and even answering curious villagers’ pestering questions while engaging in polite conversations.

Hua Cheng, for the most part, had ignored everyone else as if they didn't exist. Not out of malice or boredom, but because his mood was worsening since that earlier feeling the ribbon gave him.

He watched Xie Lian, standing in the narrow stream of water as he washed his hands and feet. The sky had mostly cleared of the looming clouds. The sunlight lit him up, and the stream water sparkled around him. He was smiling at an old woman who had been talking to him for a while.

In ordinary clothing and mired with earth, he appeared no different from others, yet one glimpse of his face indicated otherwise.

Hua Cheng couldn't be so certain what exactly made him stand out in the crowd. Was it the wise tone and gracious manner he displayed? Or the way he was so free in his trust and compassion?

The woman looked pleased with her conversation with him, nodding her head several times. Once satisfied, she finally left, joining others under the shade of trees for a respite.

Only after that, Xie Lian approached Hua Cheng, who had been waiting on the edge of the stream, listening to the exchange in silence. Xie Lian asked him, “Aren't you thirsty? Let’s rest for a while.”

Hua Cheng wasn't really thirsty, he hadn't been for centuries. However, playing the part of a breathing and eating individual for a long period of time didn't make him averse to satiate mortal needs. Sometimes he thought experiencing every pleasure under the sun would make him untethered to the mortal world, snuffing out his will to live. He’d not expected that he’d burn bit by bit, turning his will to ashes. Yet it still burned.

Now as he studied Xie Lian’s expectant look, warm smile that adorned his face under the bamboo hat, simmering embers were waiting to be reignited.

Hua Cheng listened to him without a word. It was dangerously becoming second nature to him. Frightening because it didn’t bother him anymore.

They found the tree nestled in a quiet spot and sat cross-legged on the soft meadow. Auntie Feng, as everyone called her, offered them a water pouch and a generous amount of loquats and rice cakes. They ate in silence, feeling the cool breeze on their skin and relished the sweet taste.

It was tempting to pretend they were ordinary men doing mundane chores in an ordinary life. It was such a simple thing – to yearn for normalcy in a life full of suffering. Hua Cheng hadn't known he could crave it, let alone feel content living it.

Soon enough, they were called upon to finish the remaining planting.

Xie Lian suddenly winced. It was a low gasp, barely loud enough to be heard over.

Hua Cheng looked at him instantly. Xie Lian’s face was contorted into pain, but as his eye locked with Hua Cheng, he smoothed out his expression.

“What happened?” Hua Cheng asked, striding closer.

“Nothing.” Xie Lian clearly lied, but Hua Cheng didn’t budge. He observed Xie Lian calmly, keeping a careful distance.

When Xie Lian walked again, his leg moved oddly, a shadow of grimace passed over his features.

Their feet were bare, having left their boots at the embankment of the field. It was apparent what had happened.

Hua Cheng moved, stepping in front of Xie Lian and then dropped to one knee on the ground.

The action startled Xie Lian as it did Hua Cheng himself. It was a foreign instinct that took over his body. He couldn't resist it. Momentarily, he was at a loss, not knowing what came over him.

Kneeling to someone was revolting. An act of surrender. Submission.

Xie Lian’s eyes blew wide with surprise."What are you doing? Stand up!” he hurriedly exclaimed.

Hua Cheng didn’t want to. It may have been instinct at first, but ultimately it was his choice. When he looked up at Xie Lian from this position, something in him came loose. Like a tide that was building up and up finally shattered over the edge of the ocean.

There was no trace of revulsion and weakness he felt. On the contrary, he was feeling… something else. A weird tightness settled into his bones. Where the weight of his legs dug into damp earth, he felt the cool hardness spreading into him like an odd comfort.

“Let me have a look,” he said as politely as he could. He ignored the villagers gawking at the sight. There were combined looks that ranged from mild curiosity to sheer dismay.

Xie Lian’s eyebrows furrowed, disapproval mounting on his face. Hua Cheng doubted it was from embarrassment of attracting unwelcomed attention.

“It's not necessary,” he simply said.

Hua Cheng gave him a hard stare. The constant disregard for his self was something Xie Lian seemed to have achieved mastery of.

“It won’t take more than a moment to look,” Hua Cheng insisted, and gestured at the nearby rock for Xie Lian to sit down.

After looking conflicting for a while, Xie Lian agreed begrudgingly and leaned on the rock.

Hua Cheng lifted his hand, and gently took Xie Lian’s ankle in his palm.

There, lodged inside the heel of his foot, was a thorn. Blood slowly seeped out from the pierced skin.

Hua Cheng raised the ankle, keeping it steady. With his free hand, he pulled the thorn delicately, removing it in a single motion.

Xie Lian didn’t utter a word except the momentary crease on his forehead.

Hua Cheng let go of his leg, but his eyes rested on the ankle for a moment longer. Beneath the grey fabric of the pants, he caught the glimpse of white cloth wrapped over the skin.

Hua Cheng blinked. His eyes didn't need to wander to Xie Lian's neck to know it was a similar white bandage. It wasn't far-fetched to assume both of them served the same purpose. Concealing the same thing.

Xie Lian stood abruptly, having caught his gaze. He moved faster than lightning, mingling with villagers as if nothing had happened. During the entire time, he avoided talking to Hua Cheng; he didn’t even spare a glance in Hua Cheng’s direction.

An emotion so fierce rose in Hua Cheng's chest that he needed to actively shove it down. He was seriously beginning to question what in the hell was wrong with him. If he didn't know better, he'd have come to the conclusion he was cursed.

On their way back, Xie Lian gave him an apologetic smile. Hua Cheng didn't return the gesture, getting more angry with himself, more so because of the restless feeling the act of kneeling instilled inside him.

By the time they reached Feng household, Xie Lian didn’t approach him again, shrinking back to himself.

Hua Cheng went to the back of the house, staring into endless greenery that blanketed every corner of the earth. The orchards were flourishing and the air was thick with a sweet smell.

For a moment, he almost missed the chaos of the ghost city. Sighing, he combed his fingers through his hair, letting it loose from the ponytail. This peace unnerved him. It felt like an illusion. One that would break down if he stepped back.

His dark mood was interrupted by someone reaching him through the communication array.

It was Yin Yu. 

“Chengzhu,” he greeted, already sounding like something was wrong.

“What is it?” Hua Cheng spat, voice hard.

Sensing the agitated mood, Yin Yu worded his speech carefully, “It’s Qi Rong… he has been causing frequent trouble. He attacked the city's residents yesterday. Some were beaten severely.”

Hua Cheng’s mood worsened tenfold. He hadn't dealt with that trash since earning his title. Never bothering with that disgusting filth had proven to be a better strategy. It should have stayed that way.

“Are you not equipped to handle him?” Annoyance was catching up to him. Yin Yu wasn't incompetent, nor the ghosts he had personally vetted to protect the city in his absence. And no one in three realms was foolish enough to attack Crimson Rain Sought Flower’s territory. Unless, of course, they were expecting a death wish.

“We are capable, Chengzhu,” Yin Yu sputtered, rushing over to explain. “But his attacks have been turning more unpredictable these past few months. He and his minions are using deceptive tricks.” He paused, adding further cautiously,“Our spies tell us he is growing upset because you've been ignoring him. He's spreading lies that you're becoming… powerless and afraid of him.”

Pathetic loser. Hua Cheng was tempted to teach him a painful lesson, which that vile filth would remember permanently. However, leaving right now to take care of this situation personally wasn’t feasible.

“Contact Black Water,” he ordered.

There was a beat of silence on the other end before Yin Yu spoke again, “I already did, Chengzhu. But he is preoccupied.”

That was strange. Black Water never rejected cooperation. And rarely did Hua Cheng require his assistance to begin with. But most importantly, he was in no position to say no to Hua Cheng.

Hua Cheng gritted his teeth. “Tell him his debt would quadruple if he refuses to help,” he coolly declared.

“Yes, Chengzhu,” Yin Yu replied.

Hua Cheng didn't dismiss him right away, his mind circling back on the thought he had scrapped before. In reality, it'd be too easy to ask Yin Yu to investigate and collect information about Xie Lian – if that was indeed the man's real name. Hua Cheng could obtain every possible information by the time the sun rose again.

“Yin Yu,” he started to speak but then suddenly stopped, words caught in his throat. He was unable to do it. 

“Chengzhu?” Yin Yu wondered, after there was no response.

“Nothing.” Hua Cheng cast aside the idea. “Let me know immediately if anything goes badly.”

Yin Yu paused, but didn't dare to pose a question. “En,” he assented and left the array, leaving Hua Cheng in the messy tangle of his own troubled thoughts.

When Hua Cheng went back, the Feng couple were drinking tea and eating qingtuan under the osmanthus. He surveyed the courtyard, but Xie Lian was nowhere to be seen.

“Xie daozhang went to take a walk near the pond,” Uncle Feng shared, looking at Hua Cheng over his tea cup.

Hua Cheng hadn't asked. The irritation he felt must be evident on his face.

“If you are heading there, take this with you,” Auntie Feng pushed a plate filled with qingtuan towards him. When Hua Cheng didn't move, she stood up and wrapped the dumplings in bamboo leaves and handed them to him.

He gave a polite nod, having no choice but to follow through.

When he reached the pond, the sky was a shade of peach. Frogs were croaking in a chorus, and carps swirled in the water languidly.

Xie Lian, who had been leaning against the camphor tree and staring at the sunset absentmindedly, looked up, surprised. He was dressed back in his daoist robes, looking like an enlightened buddha contemplating life.

He smiled again at Hua Cheng, a bittersweet curve at the corner of his mouth. This time, Hua Cheng found himself unable to look away, gazing into the doe eyes which could inspire a book full of ardent poems, and still it wouldn't be enough to do justice to their bewitching beauty.

Chapter Text

Holding the wrapped qingtuan, Hua Cheng sat down beside Xie Lian. Xie Lian eyed him and the roll of bamboo leaves, but didn’t ask any questions. He only sat upright, silently inviting Hua Cheng to join him.

Slowly, Hua Cheng unfolded the wrap. He remembered the knowing look Auntie Feng gave him as she packed them with care and patience, like she was trying to help in mending a bridge that was wobbling. Hua Cheng wasn’t an obvious man, far from it. His emotions never spilled on his face. He constructed deceptive personas so seamless they could fool anyone. Yet now, he was unraveling, piece by piece, utterly powerless to stop it.

In any other circumstance, the knowledge could have made him scream in retaliation. He didn’t know what was different about this situation, why he was giving in so easily. If anyone witnessed him now, they wouldn’t believe their eyes, even calling it embarrassing. But what scared him more was the lack of resistance he was feeling, far more than how malleable he was behaving.

This belief was reinforced as he watched Xie Lian tuck a strand of falling hair behind his ear. He accepted the dumpling from Hua Cheng wordlessly. A faint smile of gratitude crossed his face. He nibbled on it unhurriedly, eyes shifting to the horizon where the sun was disappearing gradually.

Hua Cheng also took a bite, chewing the rice. The rich flavor of the red bean paste soon burst into his mouth, exploding his senses with sweetness. He couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed the taste of a delicacy this much. Despite employing the best cooks in Paradise Manor, he rarely had the urge to indulge himself.

Once Xie Lian finished eating, he turned to a cluster of blooms flourishing on the meadow. His fingertips touched the violet petals, caressing them tenderly. All of them were wildflowers, in various colours, but with no particular smell or importance in the rituals. Yet, they looked elegant and enticing. Hua Cheng’s eyes snagged on the white ones.

After Xie Lian was done admiring them, he looked up at Hua Cheng. As if suddenly noticing, he pointed out, “Your ponytail has come loose.”

Hua Cheng pondered the intention behind making the observation. To engage in small talk or put emphasis on his disheveled state?

“It was tight and hurting,” he answered casually.

Xie Lian seemed to believe him. After a moment, he asked, “Do you want to braid it?”

“No.” Hua Cheng felt no patience for grooming. “I’m tired.”

“I can do it for you,” Xie Lian offered quickly.

Was this a masked attempt at figuring out his true nature? Hua Cheng didn’t really mind. He was in fact waiting when Xie Lian would start to probe. But he hadn’t tried before. Was he running out of patience? Would he be disappointed and terrified after finding out?

“If you want to, go ahead,” Hua Cheng imparted, giving the permission.

Xie Lian stood up, moving to his back. He knelt behind Hua Cheng, white robe spread on the green around them. He gathered a handful of Hua Cheng’s hair in his hand, and partitioned it into sections. His fingers moved softly, a touch feather light as if he was afraid of causing even slight hurt.

“Auntie Feng told me this place was previously filled with numerous resentful spirits.” He brought forth the matter as if he was talking about the weather.

“Really?” Hua Cheng was seriously taken aback. As it was usual for southern mountains to house the ferocious beasts but not the large number of resentful souls. 

“En,” Xie Lian mumbled, hands moving leisurely through locks of hair. He then launched into the tale. “There was an extreme flood many years back. The river had overflowed, submerging the crops and causing starvation. Prior to it, rain was moderate, and harvests were bountiful. Villagers had blessings of earth and rain gods. Every year, they prayed before the sowing. They were unsure how they incurred heaven's wrath,” he paused, hands stilling momentarily as he came to reveal the obvious end. “Many people died. Most of them were young.”

Young deaths meant unfulfilled life. Incomplete desires. It'd be more shocking if ghosts didn't haunt this place, Hua Cheng thought.

As for the disaster, the Rain master could shift the rain, but it meant causing excessive rainfall in another region. It couldn't be reasonable to move misfortune from one to another. And Earth master couldn’t do much either if there weren't large prayers. (It was a different matter altogether that there wasn't a real Earth Master in heaven.)

Xie Lian must have come to a similar conclusion.

“As years went by, the spirits of the deceased turned resentful,” he revealed, continuing plaiting the hair. “Innocent people were attacked and cursed. Villagers prayed and provided offerings to the martial gods, but no one paid them any heed. Last year, a travelling cultivator came to this region. He went to each and every affected village and subdued these spirits, finally putting them to rest.”

“It's to be expected,” Hua Cheng inferred. “The villages here are too small to be noticed by those pretentious heavenly officials. And the gods of southwest and southeast are known to fight among themselves," he scoffed. "First they'd have to agree on whose territory this region belonged to.”

The reason being this place was situated exactly in the middle of the south, so it couldn't be categorised either completely into southwest or southeast. Being on the boundary meant it was guaranteed to be a matter of dispute.

“San Lang seems knowledgeable about the affairs of heaven,” Xie Lian said, sounding impressed. A frog dived into the pond, splashing the water. “It’s done!” He gave the braid a soft tug, almost petting it because he was pleased.

Hua Cheng took it in hand, pulling it over his shoulder blade. Xie Lian came forward to sit beside him. The segments of the braid were unequal, and it was too loose in some places. Was it a clumsy flaw, or intentional payback? But as Xie Lian’s excited voice from earlier reverberated in his ears, he ignored the imperfection.

“I’m really not that knowledgeable,” he dismissed the praise. “Some of these matters are well known.”

He didn’t really go out of his way to remember trivial things about heavenly officials. He only kept an eye on important matters. But if he weren't always so restless and mindlessly scavenging for purpose, he’d have kept track of every detail of their dark history, no matter how petty it was. It served as leverage. Either way, he had an upper hand if he did want to investigate something.

“Is gege not aware of them?” He watched closely for a reaction.

“I’m afraid not,” Xie Lian shook his head. “Most of the stories about gods are exaggerated.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “And I rarely find time to indulge in these conversations.”

What he meant was he didn't participate in gossip which barely held any surface level truth. If someone’s priorities were earning his keep, scouring for food and a place to stay, all while facing mortal struggles everyday, it wasn’t hard to believe such a person wouldn’t care about haughty tales of gods and their conceited attitude.

Still, Hua Cheng was a bit shocked. He’d never thought there would be someone who was astute yet ignorant. Naturally that made him curious. “So gege has no idea about the four calamities either?”

Xie Lian rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish gesture.

“Much ashamed to say I’m not a learned person in this matter,” he admitted, a little bummed. He then politely urged, “Could San Lang enlighten me?”

“En,” Hua Cheng gave an affirming nod. He could soak in this guileless elegance later. “Four calamities are supreme level ghosts. To be frank, there are only three. That piece of vulgar trash, Night-Touring Green Lantern couldn't be counted as supreme. He’s insignificant,” he spoke with disdain laced with each word. “It’s just that he's a nuisance to Heaven and throws constant tantrums, that’s why he's included in the list. And it’s sounds better to have four calamities as there are also four famous tales.”

Xie Lian’s eyes lit up. “Ah, I’m aware of the four famous tales!” Though as he said this, he hesitated, having realized something important. “San Lang must have heard them too right…”

Hua Cheng didn’t immediately understand the reason behind such a reaction. He carried on, telling the truth, “I have, but not much except the popular legends. I have no interest in gods. If you want to discuss the deep lore behind their stories, I’m not familiar with all of them.”

He knew about the tale of the Young Lord who poured the wine. It was hard not to, given his fellow calamity’s revenge was tied to that family. He was indirectly assisting He Xuan, so he ought to know what he was getting into. As for the General who broke his sword and the Princess who slit her throat, he was obviously aware of them as they were existing gods in heaven.

As for the Crown Prince who pleased the Gods, Hua Cheng didn’t know anything besides the fact that he was once heaven’s darling who was later hated by his kingdom and followers alike. In the famous folklores, he was always referred to as God of Misfortune. It was a centuries old tale, perhaps older than Hua Cheng himself.

When he was out of Mount Tonglu, it was widespread during that time. Back then, he was too overwhelmed, not knowing who he was. He had no time to pay attention to any happenings around him. He was thrashing and raging against his very existence. Now that he thought about it, hadn't white-clothed calamity also been destroying kingdoms around that same period? He hadn’t bothered to look deeply before, as both the prince and the calamity were irrelevant to the present.

Xie Lian’s expression was a little disappointing. Folding his hands into his sleeves, he looked at Hua Cheng. “It’s alright. These tales are widely discussed anyway. Let’s return to the topic before...”

Hua Cheng smiled. “You really want to know about the supremes?”

Xie Lian nodded. The evening brightness had dimmed around them, leaving a halo of faint light in the slowly descending darkness.

“Gege hasn't heard about Crimson Rain Sought Flower, has he?” Although he mused in a nonchalant manner, a thrill was crawling up inside him.

Xie Lian blinked at the peculiar title. “No, I haven't heard of him.”

"It's a good thing that gege hasn't. Hua Cheng is known to be troublesome,” he stated, voice devoid of mischievous glint. It wasn’t a blatant lie. “And he's a very moody person.”

“How so?” Xie Lian wondered, puzzled.

“He has a temper,” Hua Cheng replied. “He burned the temples of the gods who insulted him.”

Xie Lian waited, giving it a serious thought before responding.

“Burning temples is a little extreme, but insulting someone without being provoked isn't right either.” He reasoned. “If they knew he was powerful, they shouldn’t have bad-mouthed him. Even if they did, they should have prepared for the consequences.”

Hua Cheng was stunned hearing the balanced line of thought. There was no prejudice and partiality in his assessment.

Hua Cheng considered it for a second before questioning, “How is gege sure it was unprovoked?”

“You didn’t insult Hua Cheng like you did with the Green ghost,” Xie Lian explained. “That makes me believe that this Hua Cheng might be a reasonable person.”

Hua Cheng was dumbfounded. A laugh tore out of his throat. This was ridiculous. Under Xie Lian’s confused stare, he collected his composure.

“That’s the least accurate way to judge him,” he objected.

“Why is that?” Xie Lian asked innocently.

Because you are trusting the words of that exact person! Hua Cheng thought inwardly. He wasn’t sure how to explain it without giving himself away.

“Hmm. Let's say that this Hua Cheng has some preconceived notions about certain things. He feels strongly against those who are drunk on their powers and dictate other people's lives. But he too wields the strong power himself, reveling in it,” he criticised. “Don’t you think it’s hypocritical of him?”

This should be enough to make Xie Lian think twice.

“If he is not abusing his powers to hurt innocents, I don’t see the problem,” Xie Lian answered as if this was a simple and easy conclusion to reach.

Caring about the opinion of others was the last thing on Hua Cheng’s mind. Yet he was desperately gauging Xie Lian’s perception of him. Even warping the view, to see how harshly Xie Lian could judge a stranger. Judge him.

“It depends on his mood. He can be cruel.” 

“San Lang seems very familiar with this Hua Cheng,” Xie Lian observed, wearing an odd look. “But since I haven’t met him, it’d be poor of me to label him as savage without witnessing his cruelty.”

He didn't abandon his stance, keeping a sensible perspective.

“I have worked for him in the past.” The words were out of Hua Cheng's mouth before he could rethink them. Just what kind of tale he was spinning? “He is not an interesting person to be with.”

Xie Lian gave him a look of pure curiosity.“Oh?”

“He is very boring,” he further spouted, voice calm as if he were talking about someone else. “Every supreme ghost has a burning purpose to remain in this world. But most would bet their fortunes that Hua Cheng has no attachment. He does things on whim and looks bitter all the time.”

He had to admit, putting himself down in front of a man whom he had known for less than a week wasn’t appealing, withholding the identity or not. However, flattering himself and painting a picture which wasn't an honest depiction of his true self was deceitful, an ugly thing to do.

“That’s very sad,” Xie Lian lamented.

Hua Cheng’s chest spasmed.

“Gege finds him pitiful?” he asked, bracing himself for a disappointing, but truthful remark.

“Not pitiful. But it must be a very lonely afterlife,” Xie Lian said, voice tinged with empathy.

Hua Cheng felt exposed. Laid open in a way he had never been before. Xie Lian spoke like he understood him, defended him as if he identified truth, slicing through the illusions.

The face Hua Cheng was making must be pathetic, because Xie Lian gently changed the subject.“What about the other two calamities?”

“There isn't anything known about Black Water Sinking Ships. He’s very low key and keeps to his island.” Hua Cheng shared what was known to others, guarding the secret like he was a loyal dog. Even though it irritated him, he had voluntarily agreed to the partnership. He continued, “As for White-Clothed calamity, it’s the thing of the past.”

Hearing that name, Xie Lian’s body went rigid. His hands fell from his sleeves, stiffening in his lap. And the expression on his face changed from relaxed to tense. For a moment, his eyes were elsewhere.

“Does gege know about it?” Hua Cheng bluntly inquired.

Xie Lian came out of the trance. Holding Hua Cheng's gaze, he anchored himself back to the present. Whatever he was thinking, it looked like it took him great effort to even relive it in his head. For an instant, Hua Cheng thought he wasn't going to address it.

“If you meant White No-face, then yes,” Xie Lian spoke smoothly, though his tone was intense. He exhaled a heavy sigh, but didn't stop. “It was a very long time ago. Just like you said, I’m not certain if it even exists anymore.”

Hua Cheng wasn’t expecting the confession. And certainly not this ancient and convoluted. The threads were intertwined, intersecting in a way he had not thought possible, leading him to an answer that was as intricate as it could get.

“Gege is indeed older than me,” Hua Cheng asserted. This was basically a confirmation to his suspicion. All the things were pointing in the same direction, slotting perfectly in one place.

Xie Lian was a god. A banished one, from the era so long ago it was buried under the thousand layers of history. Unlike Yin Yu, he was laden with two shackles. One was clearly suppressing his spiritual powers. But what was the purpose of the second one? And the white silk around his wrist was another mystery. That thing was sentient. Hua Cheng would love to know its origins. But what intrigued him more was the reason behind Xie Lian’s banishment. What kind of transgression he had committed in heaven’s eyes? And instead of cursing heaven and falling into despair, he was living a simple, humble life.

Xie Lian smiled at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, you wanted to know the truth, didn’t you?”

Hua Cheng’s mouth filled with sour taste. He hated this feeling. As if somehow he wronged Xie Lian. Like he had trapped and bullied him to reveal answers. 

The silence lingered for a long time. The surroundings had turned into near pitch-blackness. Every now and then, sporadic chattering of sparrows and insects broke the stillness. Rather than finding it soothing, it vexed him.

Xie Lian suddenly stood up. “Night has almost fallen. Let's head back,” he said, ready to leave.

Hua Cheng didn’t move. His entire being rattled with questions that were eating him alive. Not once he'd felt his knowledge was inadequate.

“San Lang?” Xie Lian called.

Despite the unease at his own actions, Hua Cheng wanted to know more. Something was coming undone, unfurling inside him.

“What was gege god of?” His voice was just above whisper, but it rippled with uncontrollable elation. If he was prying, he could at least be bold and direct.

Xie Lian looked down at him, gaze heavy. “I thought you weren’t interested in gods?”

Hua Cheng's eyes traced the edge of still water, fingers gliding over the messy braid.

“The heart changes with the circumstances, that's all.” he countered deliberately.

A beat passed. Thick silence stretched in suffocating waves. The meaning was clear: he was only a man, his interests were prone to external circumstances, changing easily. And this was nothing but a fleeting fascination.

When he looked up, he found Xie Lian's face crumpled, a look of dejection spread over his features. It flickered for a moment before it was gone, like it was never there.

Throwing caution to the wind, Hua Cheng stood up. Their eyes stayed locked, facing each other through the veil of darkness.

“But my heart has never been swayed before,” Hua Cheng admitted. Not until you. He thought to himself, feeling the chasm between who he was previously and the seismic rupture that was happening to him since meeting this man.

In truth, it didn’t matter to him whether Xie Lian was a god or not. Whether he was powerful or not. He could really be a scrap-collector and Hua Cheng would listen to him talk about anything under the sun. The realization hit him like a jolt, making him fully aware of the depth of his descent. And he could do nothing but stomach these achingly reverent thoughts.

Xie Lian’s eyes widened at those words. Then slowly, his lips curved into a smile. A genuine one this time, which lit up his face with warmth. He paused, drawing the cool evening air before his expression became unreadable. 

“They used to call me Flower Crowned Martial God,” he said matter-of-factly, despite the wounds he was re-opening to sate the stranger's curiosity. “The Crown Prince who pleased the Gods.”

Since the start of the day, Hua Cheng breathed for the first time, his heart pounding erratically when it was incapable of doing so.

Chapter Text

On their second day in the village, it began pouring again, starting with a soft trickle. Raindrops pattered on the leaves in a steady rhythm. Water rolled down the smooth surfaces, some ricocheting off, dissolving into an incessant, lulling sound.

Hua Cheng dragged his gaze from the view outside. He had been leaning against the opened window, arms folded over his chest. Once again his eyes found their way to Xie Lian.

Sitting before the low table in the middle of the main hall, he was making talismans on the request of the Feng couple. They had mentioned it in passing over the dinner yesterday, but he had not forgotten it. His brushstrokes painted fluid characters on the thin paper, hands moving with practiced ease. His calligraphy skills were outstanding, rivaling even esteemed royal teachers Hua Cheng had witnessed during the centuries of wandering.

His writing, on the other hand, could make experienced instructors crawl from their graves to curse the abomination. Instinctively, his fingers curled around his left forearm, where the undeciphered words lay on his skin. For a long time, he had wondered if it was gibberish. In the end, he came to the conclusion he could never know its importance. Or it could have been a rebellious attempt from his youth that he carried on in his afterlife.

For a ghost to enter Mount Tonglu and reach its heart was considered an immense accomplishment, and to break through the Kiln itself was a formidable effort, result of excruciating trial. Achieving such a massive feat meant he’d been in great agony. Wronged by someone to the point of self-destruction and holding onto resentment so strong that made him survive the hell.

The lost eye and the cursed weapon spawned from it indicated that his situation after death was possibly harrowing. He had no recollection of regaining consciousness and the time spent on Mount Tonglu. But he could deduce his mortal life must have been grief-struck. He’d probably died a painful death and come to gain power to seek revenge. Yet, his hatred wasn’t strong enough to endure outside the Kiln. Or perhaps what had happened inside that volcanic chamber made him lose his identity. And once it closed, every answer he’d wanted was swallowed by the void.

His tattoo could have been a clue. But his mortal self couldn’t even write properly – the same trait he’d inherited in death. It could have been salvageable but the strokes carved were chaotic and spread haphazardly. It was way worse than his current writing. It alluded to the fact that when it was ingrained on his hand, he must have been in agonizing pain. The body he possessed after emerging out of the Kiln had retained the imperfection. Therefore, he believed his struggle must have been important if he chose to keep this flaw. As some kind of reminder. Of pain or something else, he could never know.

Sometimes he did wonder, wouldn’t it be better to forget about painful memories? But if his pain defined who he was as a person, then what was he without it? Given choice, he would embrace torture of thousand lifetimes than be like this. An empty shell. Carrying this numbness, without having any source to cut out the hollowness inside him.

Well, it didn’t matter now. Neither was he in anguish nor he harboured any resentment. He dismissed these thoughts. For the first time, he was looking forward to the future in front of him, rather than digging helplessly into the past that was only going to leave him with more misery even if he somehow remembered it.

Auntie Feng had a look of admiration on her face as she watched Xie Lian work. She collected the carefully crafted spells to ward off evil, thanking him multiple times and stuck them outside the door, completely unaware of the fact that she was sheltering the Ghost King himself in her home.

In one corner, Uncle Feng was burning incense in the small clay censer. The pieces of charcoal glowed red as he flapped a paper fan, inflaming the embers. Over the wood, the sprinkled powder of magnolia petals, infused with the heat, soon gave way to the tranquil and cleansing smell of camphor beneath, mingling with a faint floral fragrance.

From the periphery of his vision, Hua Cheng saw the family’s cat approaching the hall. She had been in the kitchen for the past hour or so, absorbing the warmth from the brazier by clinging to the heated floor.

She abruptly leaped, crashing into Xie Lian’s lap. Although she almost startled him, he smiled instantly, and petted her affectionately. The sight made Hua Cheng ache with something – a tender feeling he couldn't recognize having felt before.

“Our Bai Mao is very shy,” Uncle Feng piped. “Xie daozhang must be good with animals to win her over.”

“I didn’t do anything special,” Xie Lian continued caressing her, his fingers threaded through her fluffy hair. “I only talked to her when we arrived.”

He then scratched his cheek, laughing. Another nervous habit, when he couldn’t take the praise or the observation made about him was embarrassing to voice out loud. He lifted his eyes to look at Hua Cheng to see his reaction.

Hua Cheng let his mouth curve in a small smirk, as if in agreement with Uncle Feng. Xie Lian gave him a look of betrayal and then smiled in spite of it.

After their conversation near the pond, they had walked back in comfortable silence with a crucial understanding. Having discovered something indispensable about each other which couldn’t be unlearned.

The more Hua Cheng thought about those words he uttered under the evening sky, the more perplexed he became. He wasn’t regretting it. Not truly. But the way it had come out of his mouth, it was staggering.

Xie Lian hadn’t brought up their exchange again, keeping the knowledge to himself like an ephemeral secret he had stumbled upon in the wild. As if it didn’t strengthen their fragile bond with trust. But Hua Cheng could tell it had made all the difference. Something had shifted, as if it was easier to breathe.

Auntie Feng, who had gone to the kitchen, came out holding a jar of yellow wine. She placed it on the table, her wrinkled face settling into a sweet smile.

Xie Lian’s eyes flickered with surprise, his face turning a little tense. “Ah, I really appreciate it. But my cultivation path prohibits me from drinking alcohol,” he courteously said.

The revelation shocked Hua Cheng. He hadn’t thought there would be centuries old principles Xie Lian would be honoring in his banishment. Once cast out, a person would be more likely to forsake things that were biting reminders of the tainted past. If he continued following rigid practices, it meant he still aligned with them. Or the old habits were hard to die.

Auntie Feng looked disheartened to hear that. “Is there anything else we should know?” she asked.

“No, nothing else to take note of,” Xie Lian denied, and stressed in a well-mannered tone, “Please don't trouble yourself on my behalf.”

A strong sentiment pulsed through Hua Cheng. He moved away from the window, saying, “I’ll prepare tea for gege.”

Xie Lian looked at him with surprise. He opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Auntie Feng. “Let him be. While he makes the tea, I’ll serve you sweet potatoes. You’re too thin.”

Before disappearing into the kitchen, Hua Cheng caught the look of bafflement on Xie Lian’s face as he kept saying there’s no need.

Auntie Feng followed behind Hua Cheng, taking the pot of boiled sweet potatoes with her after guiding him to the ingredients.

His expertise in cooking was rusty; he was no professional in culinary arts. However, sometimes when his restlessness was too hard to bear and malaise out of control, he would find himself in the kitchen, making random things just to have something to do with his hands. Preparing tea wasn’t daunting. It would be pathetic if he couldn’t do a simple chore. Mustering the confidence, he grabbed for the container of the water, pushing himself into the unprepared task.

Once the tea was prepared, he entered the main hall again. Xie Lian was in the middle of a tale about a vengeful forest spirit he had encountered during his journey. The Feng couple was listening intently, sitting on either of his sides. Hua Cheng took a seat opposite to him, putting the kettle down on the table along with tea cups.

“It latched onto me for a full month, misleading the way,” Xie Lian was narrating. The cat was snuggling on his lap, sleeping peacefully. “It tried every trick to rile me up. In the end, it couldn't feed on my anger, so it had to retreat.”

“Daozhang is indeed an enlightened individual,” Auntie Feng praised, impressed by his experiences and brilliance.

Xie Lian appeared to have a different opinion. “It’s nothing of that sort. It’s because I was used to all the things it did to anger me.”

“Such as?” Uncle Feng inquired.

“Collapsing my temporary dwelling. Attacking through snakes and spoiling my food,” Xie Lian plainly said, as if he was listing normal circumstances an individual faced regularly.

Hua Cheng's grip tightened over the handle of the kettle.

“...”

“Those things could have happened regardless of the spirit's efforts,” Xie Lian further clarified. “It wasn’t of any consequence to me.”

His response made them stare at him with more bewilderment. He rubbed his forehead, regretting opening his mouth.

“Gege, let’s drink,” Hua Cheng urged, breaking the solemn and awkward environment.

He started pouring and filled each cup with scalding tea. The smell of ginger with a blend of herbs wafted through the air. He pushed the cup in Xie Lian's direction, feeling the heat course through his fingertips.

“Thank you, San Lang,” Xie Lian said, giving him a warm smile.

Hua Cheng couldn't untangle the satisfaction he felt from the plethora of other emotions. Still, he smiled back, mumbling, “You’re welcome, gege."

This fondness. It was unbearable. All this time he was detached from these emotions. To get suddenly flooded with these impulses was overwhelming. Yesterday’s admission was the first step towards acceptance, and being vulnerable. It had opened a gate to possibilities once seemed improbable. But he was a wounded soul, who couldn't even grapple with the magnitude of his affliction. After passing of the countless, uncaring seasons, if someone held a balm to his wounds, he’d first shriek due to shock of the subsiding ache, then only he would be able to bask in the comfort.

Like a sick man who finally reached the only stream that could cure his illness, but he would hesitate briefly before plunging into the unknown. In the end, it wouldn’t matter if he came out poisoned, because feeling something was better than feeling nothing. Perhaps he could get used to it. Consumed even, to the extreme.

But, it was a painful realization that struck him – he feared poisoning the stream instead.

“It’s delicious,” Uncle Feng’s words pulled him back. The old man continued sipping the tea, and asked him, “Did your mother teach you?”

Hua Cheng felt a pang of something intangible. An echo of unlived life. “I’ve learned on my own,” he answered.

“You’re so considerate. How come you don’t have a wife yet?” Auntie Feng asked, her voice filled with innocent curiosity.

Xie Lian’s face hardened, finding the question invasive.

Hua Cheng didn’t falter. His thumb moved over the edge of the cup, hot steam diffused into water droplets over the reddened skin.

“No one had stirred my heart before,” he replied. It should have sounded arrogant, but it came out as a mere fact.

Xie Lian stared at him, unblinkingly.

“Such high standards!” Uncle Feng piped. “If you continue to be like this, you’d remain unmarried forever.”

Hua Cheng smiled, lifting the cup slightly in respect. “Then so be it. If I don’t feel a speck of passion, then I would never assuage myself with false comfort,” he said, gulping it down and swallowing around the strong flavour. He felt everyone’s heavy gaze on him turning more aghast.

“This Xiao ge – you’re still young,” Uncle Feng belittled, wanting to disparage his view. “The matters of the heart are not rigid like that.”

He put the cup down, the soft rattling echoed like a decisive conclusion.

“I would wait for a flower that blooms in a thousand years, rather than get placated by everyday scenery,” he stated, words tumbling out of his mouth like they had always rested on his tongue.

Hearing something so sincere and absurd, the entire room was speechless. Xie Lian's eyes softened around the edges, holding a look akin to endearment.

Uncle was about to speak again, fuming underneath but Auntie Feng shot him a hard look.

“It's an admirable perspective,” she complimented, and then turned to Xie Lian for his opinion. “What does daozhang think?”

“Everyone has their own preferences,” Xie Lian diplomatically responded. Hua Cheng couldn't tell what he really thought.

“But what about daozhang?” Uncle Feng chimed in again. “Have you too withdrawn from experiencing the joy of family?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Xie Lian nodded. “I practice the path of complete abstinence.”

Hua Cheng was surprised again, but this time less so. But there was some other feeling, spreading in his gut. It tasted like defeat. Or it could be a challenge.

“You two are very much alike,” Auntie Feng presumed. “Of course, you get along well like real brothers.” She laughed, and her words stung Hua Cheng in a way he wasn’t ready to confront.

Xie Lian smiled good-naturedly, but it was forced. Hua Cheng didn’t comment either. When the conversation finally wrapped, Xie Lian decided to stay behind, insisting he should help in the household chores.

Hua Cheng would have stayed too, if not for the fact he was being reached through the communication array. He politely excused himself. The fluttering murmurs dissipated into the background behind him. Nonchalantly, he went to their shared room, closing the door in a quiet thud. 

“Where are you?” The voice sounding from the other end was almost demanding, tinged with mild irritation and confusion.

“Do you need a lesson on how to greet your elders?” Hua Cheng snapped in a low voice, making sure his displeasure was palpable.

No one should be able to ask him such a question, let alone speak in a manner foregoing courtesy. This was the result of giving many liberties over the years in a moment of weakness. 

“Crimson Rain,” Black Water begrudgingly acknowledged, correcting his overstep. “I am busy. I’ve been assigned a mission in the west. I’ve relayed the same message to Waning Moon Officer.”

“Busy doing what exactly? Cozying up to Jun Wu to further your plans,” Hua Cheng retorted. He went ahead and lit the oil lamp, its flickering flame enveloped the room in a warm glow. “You can do that without fawning over the emperor. Or your priorities are changing?”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Black Water enunciated, voice both guarded and on the edge. “What are you trying to imply?”

“Perhaps hanging around heavenly officials has dulled your wit,” Hua Cheng taunted. He sat down on the bamboo cot, his hand twirling around the thread that had sprung from the worn-out fabric of the mattress. 

“Whatever it is you want to say, speak clearly,” Black Water shot back with no patience.

“It’s been a while since you have gathered the evidence.” Hua Cheng had no interest in playing this game either. “Why delay the conclusion?”

There was a sudden silence. He had hit the nail on the head.

Since infiltrating heaven, Black Water had been investigating his tragic fate relentlessly. It wasn’t until recently he uncovered the truth of what exactly transpired and who were his actual transgressors. Prior to it, he was deeply suspicious, but without a complete picture to determine the actual culprit. He had waited for proof for a long time.

He was a man who had honed his hate until it engulfed him to the brim. There was nothing else in his sight and mind. He did things with an unwavering resolve. If bitterness born of injustice and unfulfilled life was given a form, it would be Black Water with all of his resentment and sorrow combined. But these emotions with such sheer intensity could only emerge if one felt love and attachment with the same profoundness.

Even if He Xuan was fully aware his revenge couldn’t bring back what he had lost, even if he would feel hollowness in the end, he would still go through his vengeance. So, it was surprising to Hua Cheng as to why he would hesitate. Moreover, he had Hua Cheng to aid him on every step, and Hua Cheng had not once denied him assistance.

“Shi Qingxuan is not aware his ascension was a forgery," Black Water replied after a long pause, voice almost a whisper.

Now it was Hua Cheng's turn to be stunned into silence. Was it possible that Wind Master was oblivious? It couldn't be out of the realm of possibility, but chances were low. If he was the one who benefitted out of Black Water’s torment, how could he be so ignorant?

“He could be feigning innocence,” Hua Cheng said before asking, “What makes you believe him?”

“I've reached an understanding of his character. He is indeed blameless,” Black Water said, meaning he had been observing all this time. He hadn’t ever mentioned his closeness with Wind Master. Just how well he had become acquainted with the god to judge him with such clarity? As unexpected it was, was he rethinking his motives?

From what Hua Cheng could see, Black Water was less likely to implicate someone innocent, no matter the scale of his ire. He had been keeping the original Earth Master alive and imprisoned in his Nether Water Manor for a long time. It was a risky move that could blow up in his face in the future. Still, he didn’t kill the god. But it couldn’t be predicted what he would do if he had to make a choice.

"Now,” Black Water continued, his earlier irritation returning, “Would you answer my question – what exactly are you doing that you can't sort out Qi Rong's problem by yourself?”

“My whereabouts and affairs are none of your business,” Hua Cheng bit out.

I am planting rice and making tea for a banished heavenly official I met a week ago sounded like he was possessed by another ghost, even if it weren't possible.

“Qi Rong directly attacked the people under your protection and your response is delegating the task to someone else?” Black Water sniped. A pathetic attempt at showing concern. “Does that send a good message among the city's residents?”

“First of all,” Hua Cheng began, stretching every syllable with restraint. “I am under no obligation to care about others' worthless opinions. And second, he didn't attack directly.”

He’d have known if Qi Rong had entered the city itself. That trash had used crafty techniques to lure people out and struck from behind. Yin Yu’s words had confirmed his hunch.

“However he did it, are you going to sit back and let it happen again?” Black Water mocked. It was as if he was doing this on purpose.

“I am increasing interest on your debt for not lending a hand in the time of need,” Hua Cheng declared icily.

“...”

“If you have nothing useful to say, leave,” he barked, ready to cut the communication.

“Your intuition is right,” Black Water suddenly prompted, tone grim.

Hua Cheng waited for the explanation.

“Jun Wu considers you unpredictable and dangerous," Black Water pointed out the obvious before revealing, “Soon, he'd be sending a spy to Ghost City.”

“As if he hadn't already tried before,” Hua Cheng scoffed. He had rooted out a few before. Totally inept, incompetent fools.

After a moment of calm, Black Water divulged, “He’d asked me. I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

Hua Cheng was taken aback. “Why the hell are you telling me this now?”

It had many implications. It should have been the first thing they discussed.

“You seemed pre-occupied,” Black Water remarked, provoking him.

Hua Cheng ignored the bait. He would address this peevish behaviour later.

“You are certain that he doesn’t doubt your identity?” he questioned, just to be sure.

“I can’t be completely confident,” Black Water admitted. “But even if he knows, he hasn't tried to out me.”

It only meant one thing. If Jun Wu knew, he didn’t feel threatened by Black Water. Was he deliberately interfering in the retribution that would fall upon Shi Wudu? Or was he playing a willing part in an influential heavenly official’s demise?

“Alright,” Hua Cheng relented, having no choice but to protect his own interests. “I'll be back in the city. Complete your mission and meet me in a week's time.”

As it ended, he heaved a sigh, running one hand over the bridge of his nose. Slowly, he collapsed back, the line of his spine pressing into the cold wall. If he wanted, he could brush this matter aside. However, Jun Wu’s needling in Ghost City was starting to feel like an open challenge. He had to pay close attention.

On the other hand, the thought of turning his back on Black Water was unappealing. And Black Water wouldn’t even blame him, having received a generous amount of help over the years. But he could tell that Black Water was feeling anxious to rely on him. Whether it was due to his own insecurities or his thinning trust in Hua Cheng's fluctuating focus, it wasn't easy to understand.

Hua Cheng’s priorities hadn’t changed in centuries. But now, even he wasn't sure what he would do next. He closed his eyes, and the first image that filled his mind was Xie Lian.

This was how he was going to come undone. The ultimate cause of his fall. Should he detest how easily he was enamored? Or savour the happiness of finally feeling content? It was all muddled. But one thing he had come to admit was that he folded like a paper at the sight of Xie Lian smiling at him.

He let out another breath he didn't need and pondered over the whole situation. 

Half a shichen later, there was a light rap of knuckles on the wood before the door opened to reveal Xie Lian.

Hua Cheng looked up at him, meeting his eyes in a silent greeting. Xie Lian nodded at him with a faint smile, and walked to the cot on the opposite side.

“You look upset,” Xie Lian said, sitting down as he removed his shoes. So he had noticed from a single glance. “Did Fengs offend you? Don't take it to heart. They were just curious.”

“I'm not upset about them,” Hua Cheng shrugged. “Gege doesn't need to worry. It's a minor problem at work.”

“Hua Cheng?” Xie Lian guessed, right in the wrong way.

“En,” Hua Cheng inclined his head. He was digging a deeper hole by lying. “He’s been occupied lately.”

“So he called you in then?” Xie Lian wondered, sounding almost unhappy.

“Not right now, but in a few days I would have to leave to sort it out,” Hua Cheng informed, fiddling with the end of his braid. For Qi Rong’s problem, he was going to solve it by tonight itself. That way, he would save time before returning to Ghost City.

Xie Lian was looking more upset. Hesitantly, he asked, “Do you need assistance?”

Hua Cheng grinned heartfeltly. “Are you offering, gege?”

“If you don't mind,” Xie Lian emphasized. Though he looked nervous, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I will be a bother. My luck is poor. I would pull you down with me.”

This was quite a few times he had mentioned about his luck being abysmal. Hua Cheng was starting to think there was more to it than mere concern or shadow of superstitious belief. In addition to that, him being labelled as God of Misfortune couldn't be a coincidence.

“Fortunately, my luck is very good, so that won’t be a problem,” Hua Cheng assured. Xie Lian’s eyes shined with hope. “But, it’s a boring and menial task. I can’t bother gege with it.”

He had no idea how Xie Lian would react to Ghost City. There was no grace in a place like that. Moreover, what if he found Hua Cheng's real appearance repulsive?

There was a flicker of disappointment in Xie Lian's face, but he accepted the rejection with composure. “It’s really fine. I wouldn’t have been much help anyway.”

Hua Cheng wanted to retort but Xie Lian continued, “There was a question I wanted to ask, you don't have to respond if it's difficult for you to answer.”

“I’ll try my best to answer gege’s doubts,” Hua Cheng promised.

“Since you work under supreme, you must be a wrath level ghost, no?” Xie Lian speculated, his gaze lingered on Hua Cheng's body. “Your skin is truly well-crafted.”

Hua Cheng hadn’t expected that Xie Lian would bring it up. Either way, they were past the initial barrier of concealing their true nature. “Gege has already figured out what I am. Your assumption is not off the mark.”

Xie Lian hummed thoughtfully.

Hua Cheng was curious. “Is that why you offered to do my hair?" he mused. “Were you checking its quality to confirm your suspicion? This poor one thought you were genuinely caring.”

An instant flush colored Xie Lian’s cheeks. “Don't misunderstand!” he exclaimed, and then stammered, “I really...did want to braid your hair.”

“Is that so?” Hua Cheng coolly asked.

The blush rose higher on Xie Lian’s face. “Stop teasing me, San Lang.”

“I haven't even started, gege,” Hua Cheng replied, unable to keep smugness out of his response. It was as if the knot on his shoulder had loosened, freeing him from the tension. “Your presence is making me feel bold.”

Xie Lian didn’t dare meet his eyes. He hadn’t meant to be so forward, but it had come out naturally. He couldn't resist. Xie Lian was looking downright flustered. Was it too much?

“Your highness,” he uttered softly, even surprising himself. The title occurred on his tongue so smoothly. He had thought about everything from Xie Lian’s life and to what must have happened. Despite being royalty, he was down to earth. He was humble in every way, not at all like the nobles Hua Cheng had come across. He was truly deserving of the respect those words held.

Xie Lian glanced up at him with surprise. “I haven't been a prince for a long time. There’s no need for such a formal address.”

“But it made gege look at me,” Hua Cheng reasoned, smiling. In truth, he wanted to see how Xie Lian would react. Suddenly, he remembered what he had planned to say before, and became serious. “I wanted to make something clear. From now on, please don't think that you owe me anything.”

Xie Lian blinked. “You're not going to collect on your debt anymore?”

“It's been repaid,” Hua Cheng said with a guilty smile. “But if gege is giving willingly, I won't be able to refuse.”

Xie Lian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t have anything to offer," he spoke, then paused before adding, "Besides the knowledge about my past…”

“Gege doesn’t have to tell me things he doesn't want to share,” Hua Cheng firmly said. “Though I do want to hear the tales of gege vanquishing evil.”

Xie Lian laughed under his breath. The sound of it reverberated in the room, ringing in Hua Cheng's ears like melodious music. “It’s not interesting, you’ll get bored.”

“I doubt that's true,” Hua Cheng said, insisting, "Even if it is, I want to hear anyway."

“Alright,” Xie Lian beamed, giving in. He pulled up his legs on the cot, sitting cross-legged.

Hua Cheng also relaxed into a comfortable position, propping himself on an elbow and cupping his chin in his palm.

Xie Lian’s eyes focused as he dove into the story, voice turning keen, “Centuries ago, there was this ghost terrorizing the bridge on the yellow river…”

The night blurred into exciting words and delicate glances. Hua Cheng listened and listened. There is no place in the world I would rather be, he realized as the man in front of him weaved the weight of the legends into small anecdotes of his journey.

Chapter Text

The last of the lowlifes went down in wrenching sobs, clutching the dregs of their pitiful existence. Hua Cheng turned away from the pile of bodies, not giving the disgusting filth a second glance. Worse was the hideous noise that thrummed under his skin, causing persistent aggravation.

The wraith butterflies drifted back towards him, dissolving into the silver of vambraces wrapped around his forearms. He sheathed the rattling E-Ming, but kept his hand on the hilt, letting the vibrations of violence ripple into his skin.

In front of him, the remaining lackey kowtowed. The creature’s voluminous forehead sunk to the ground, a hair’s breadth from touching Hua Cheng’s boot.

“My lord, mercy!” he pleaded, his voice an annoying clatter in the deadly silent cave. The two butterflies remained, hovering above him, ready to strike as Hua Cheng wished. The ghost continued to wail. “Please have mercy!”

“You’re lucky that I arrived in a good mood.” Hua Cheng looked down at the scum with a searing contempt. All of them were the same. Zero remorse as they put on an act, bawling crocodile tears. They had no qualms about capturing humans and laying them out unsparingly for Qi Rong to devour. That completely aside from the matter of harming ghosts residing in his territory.

He languidly tapped the boot on the floor, the silver dangling from the leather clinked in caution. “Since I’m feeling generous, I'm giving you one more chance to answer – where is that pathetic trash?”

The scum kept prostrating violently as he seemed to believe Hua Cheng appreciated begging. “I truly don’t know! Don’t know! He hadn’t shown his face in a while. That garbage! The coward already fled with the tail between his legs because of the lord's fear! Hahaha!”

Hua Cheng was already being merciful by not blowing this one to the shreds. His patience was wearing thin. In one hand, he grabbed the trash by the hair as the screams intensified and took out the pair of dice with another. The cubes bounced in the air before rolling down into exact sixes.

Entering the dungeon of Ghost City, he dropped Qi Rong’s minion on the ground with a heavy thud. The other ghosts scurried to come forward, sensing his presence. They took the screeching filth off the floor and shoved him into the cell, cramming inside the dark space.

Yin Yu arrived shortly, when Hua Cheng was done cleaning his hands and the restless blade.

“Chengzhu,” he bowed, his mask fitted snugly to his face. His black robes blended into the background, almost invisible in the darkness around them.

“I have destroyed the array that trash had set up to lure others,” Hua Cheng revealed. He had to rescue all the humans from becoming boiled chickens. Freeing them had wasted his time— the precious time which had allowed Qi Rong to escape. “Get all the information out of that scum. Let him spit out each lair Qi Rong has built. And once you have confirmed the trash’s hiding place, inform me.”

“Yes, Chengzhu.” Yin Yu straightened his back. The ghosts behind him all nodded in unison, and then promptly scattered, taking over their assigned posts. There weren’t many of them, as there was no requirement for guards to begin with. He only kept prisoners when there was an absolute necessity.

Most importantly, the place itself was built with intricate and powerful spells; it was impossible to breach it, and no one could enter and leave without his permission. If any fools tried, he'd be alarmed. While in his absence, Yin Yu managed everything with a sharp eye, keeping vigil with meticulous precision.

“Will my lord be resting?” Yin Yu asked, slipping into a usual inquiry after Hua Cheng returned from long travels. “Your room is already prepared.”

“No need.” Hua Cheng sauntered from the dimly lit basement, his fingers drumming on his vambraces. “Let’s head to the main hall.”

Yin Yu acquiesced and followed behind him, quietly striding through a maze of pathways that opened into a towering door with beast spirits. Under his presence, the old guardians arched into submission. The dice were tossed and the way to Paradise Manor emerged.

Whenever he came back after a wide stretch of time, Yin Yu reported to him. This was their routine meeting, discussing important events and matters which required his personal interference and approval. But right now he didn’t have much time as he didn't intend to return to the city this early to begin with. He wasn’t going to stay.

Under the shroud of late hour, he had slunk away after Xie Lian had dozed off in the middle of recounting the riveting tales. Hua Cheng had compiled the every piece of information, which he was hoarding like a prized possession.

Apart from the recent stories of his travels, Xie Lian had also shared with him about his first ascension, that he had achieved it at a young age after the demon he subdued. Hua Cheng had attentively learned minor things about Xian Le. Xie Lian had raved about the Shangyuan festival, and the Heavenly Ceremonial procession he enjoyed, performing as the God-Pleasing Warrior. Though he hadn't develed deeper, careful about anything that went far beyond and slide into personal territory.

Before leaving, Hua Cheng's gaze caught Xie Lian’s sleeping form, and he had been struck with the realization that Xie Lian injury wasn’t completely healed. After debating over the propriety for a long while, he had passed a wisp of spiritual power in the veil of cloaking Xie Lian with a blanket. No one had to know.

He entered the hall blanketed with red carpet, parting the chiming curtain studded with pearls. A small smile tugged on his lips as he settled on the divan. He composed himself, crossing one leg over the other in a relaxed posture.

The sprawling hall carved into the heart of Paradise Manor contained pin-drop silence. There were no guests to be hosted in the huge place. Though on certain occasions, the female ghosts would dance in the hall – spirits of the women wronged in life – who were here granted an opportunity to perform freely, and fulfill their desires without fear of being preyed upon. Now it was eerily quiet.

Hua Cheng glanced up. The glazing mirror etched into the ceiling reflected his true appearance. The red outfit, deathly pale skin and the black eyepatch. He’d have to shed it before returning.

Yin Yu came forth to stand before him, observing him with full focus.

“Is everything alright, Chengzhu?” he wondered, tone devoid of judgement. He often asked when Hua Cheng’s temper ebbed out of the blue. Not that Hua Cheng ever explained to him how he ordinarily felt, but Yin Yu had to learn to sense when his flux of emotions and behavioural pattern shifted frantically. He broached the subject with deference whenever Hua Cheng's well-being was concerned.

Hua Cheng leaned back, palms flat on the soft mattress, sinking into the pelt of the monster he had slain a long time ago.

“Why do you ask?” His voice wasn’t harsh, merely curious. Could Yin Yu figure out something had changed?

“This servant was only asking out of concern. You seemed displeased the other day. This one apologizes for not taking care of Qi Rong’s matter swiftly,” Yin Yu confessed the error, lowering his head.

“Don’t fret over it. It's been dealt with,” Hua Cheng plainly said, dismissing the lapse. They weren’t going to address that he had been the one ignoring his responsibilities. “That trash wouldn't start anything after he witnesses the wretched state of his lackeys.” He let out a scornful huff. “Doesn't mean that I wouldn't teach him a lesson he deserves.”

“Of course,” Yin Yu replied crisply. “We'll figure out Qi Rong's other lairs as soon as possible.”

Hua Cheng nodded. He trusted his subordinate to follow this task without any mistakes. He slanted forward, his fingers unconsciously skimming over the small braid suspended on his shoulder.

Yin Yu opened his mouth again, having remembered something important, “About the coral bead…we haven't found anything again.”

Hua Cheng looked up at him, his fingers halted over the bright red jewel woven into his hair.

“Cease the search,” he ordered, letting go of the braid. 

Yin Yu tilted his head, stunned. These past centuries, he had been seeking out for the things that could be clues to his Hua Cheng’s past relentlessly. To suddenly give up and call off the investigation was astonishing.

“As Chengzhu wishes,” he said, ineffectively concealing his disbelief.

Hua Cheng didn't give an explanation, he didn't feel the need to. Instead, he changed the topic. “Strengthen the watch over the city,” he commanded. “And make note of any unusual occurrence of heavenly officials.”

“Are they conspiring against my lord?” Yin Yu’s tone was laced with shock.

“When they haven’t?” Hua Cheng retorted, not yet revealing the complete situation. “Black Water will be here in a few days, I'll come back once he does.”

Yin Yu inclined his head, this time hiding his surprise at Hua Cheng's leave in such a short period. “Are there any other instructions in your absence?”

“Continue your work as you have always done,” Hua Cheng said, standing up. Then as he remembered he added with a scoffing exhale, “Don't forget to remind the cooks beforehand. I don't want to hear that snob whining about the lack of variety again.”

Yin Yu dipped his head, murmuring yes. Hua Cheng could definitely feel the smile behind the mask. He ignored it, as he usually did. Then, as it occurred to him, he abruptly stopped in his tracks.

“Yin Yu,” he called, his hand clenched taut at his back.

“Yes, my lord?” A hesitant voice responded from behind.

“Your cursed shackle.” Without a preamble, Hua Cheng brought forth the matter. “Wasn’t it personally put on by Jun Wu?”

It wasn’t a question. Not really. They both knew the answer to it.

“Yes,” Yin Yu still uttered, waiting for the actual question to arrive.

“Why do you think he would feel the need to put a second shackle on a banished official?” Hua Cheng asked, continuously mulling over it in his mind. Jun Wu was hardly the benevolent and righteous bastard he portrayed himself to be.

There was a long beat of silence. Hua Cheng turned around. Lost in thought, Yin Yu’s hand was encircled around the black ring of his shackle. Under Hua Cheng’s piercing gaze, he recovered quickly.

“My lord already knows that a cursed shackle seals the use of spiritual powers,” he nervously stated. “It’s difficult to say the reason behind another one. It certainly would be controlling something else. One could speculate the reason behind it might be serving as a double punishment?”

“What about breaking it?” Hua Cheng inquired, in spite of knowing the answer he would get. It didn't matter. Not when he had already started thinking of ways to do it. He wanted those shackles to be gone. Asking Black Water to use one of his clones and look into Palace of Ling Wen for information would be good place to start. He didn't know if Xie Lian would agree to it, but he should at least prepare if there was a possibility.

For a few moments, Yin Yu stood there speechless and motionless, as if Hua Cheng had asked him to fish the moon from the bottom of the sea.

Eventually, he pulled himself together, answering in a calm poise, “That is something only the heavenly emperor can do. As much as I’m aware, there's no second path. And there aren't many individuals with cursed shackles. Besides…” he trailed off, careful not to assume in front of Hua Cheng, “Has my lord come across someone?”

“Hm,” Hua Cheng acknowledged, and turned his back again, ready to leave. “It was a chance meeting.”

“It must have been remarkable for my lord to ask about such a thing,” Yin Yu noted.

“It was,” Hua Cheng answered, his voice coming out soft.

Yin Yu paused for a moment, and then probed cautiously, “Should I make arrangements for attending another guest?” 

“It never hurts to be prepared,” Hua Cheng said, allowing his words to carry the barely contained glee.

Stepping into the Feng courtyard, he was greeted with a sight that took his breath away.

Xie Lian was sitting on the bench under the osmanthus. His hair was completely down, damp in the morning hour with flushed skin, indicating he had just come out of the bath. The courtyard was empty, no one there to witness his disheveled state. His lips were downturned in a frown as he contemplated something, giving an impression of elusive beauty.

Hua Cheng didn’t quell the feeling that was tightly coiling in his chest. He welcomed it, letting it spread through his veins, extending to every fiber of his being. So this was how it felt: to yearn after something unattainable. Yet, in spite of how impossible it was, he was going to chase it. How could he let go of the only one who made him feel at all? No matter what form of companionship he would get, he would keep it.

Xie Lian looked up, face lighting up as a relieved smile cleared off the glum expression. He stood up when Hua Cheng drew near, pacing towards him and then stopping two steps short, hems of his robes swaying around him.

“I thought San Lang left without saying a goodbye,” he breathed, his smile slightly faltering into a wistful edge.

Hua Cheng’s hand itched to engulf him into his arms. Now that was a longing desire, ingraining into his soul like a young sprouted shoot who had already taken a deep root.

“Forgive me for disappearing like that,” he apologized, explaining further, “I was going to return before you woke up, but it took longer than expected.”

“Oh,” Xie Lian mumbled. He gathered the locks of hair, and pulled them behind, adjusting his unkempt appearance. “Is everything alright now?”

“En,” Hua Cheng nodded. “It needed to be done promptly.”

“If you need help in the future, do not hesitate to ask me,” Xie Lian said, his tone adamant.

“Gege doesn’t have to feel obligated," Hua Cheng replied, well-knowing how his rude behaviour in the beginning had instilled the weight of exchange between them. Even though he had directly resolved and settled it, Xie Lian was the kind of person not to take it lightly. Hua Cheng expected him to be still polite about it.

“It’s not about that.” Xie Lian gave a shake of head. “I’m offering because I want to. Aren’t we friends now?”

Hua Cheng blinked, and then a chuckle ripped out of him. In a moment into his blunder, he quickly pressed his lips together, stifling the emotion. But the damage was already done.

“What’s funny?” Xie Lian asked, looking slightly offended. For a fleeting moment, Hua Cheng imagined he heard shyness coloring his voice.

“Nothing.” He attempted to brush it off, and then incorporated some truth to save face. “It’s just that no one has called me friend before.”

Xie Lian wasn’t comforted by the answer. He looked displeased. How was it humorous to laugh brazenly at one's own solitude? His stare was screaming.

“San Lang has an amicable personality. How could he not have any friends?” he pondered, voice suffused with confusion. “Unless our definitions of friends are different. In which case, pardon me for making a hasty assumption,” he said, interpreting it differently.

Hua Cheng's jaw clenched. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive. Of course I consider gege as a friend. That’s not why I laughed. Please don’t misunderstand.”

How could he explain what he felt without acknowledging it bluntly? He hadn’t been subtle about his sentiments either. His admission of unwavering interest near the pond could have been mistaken for profound respect and admiration, even though it was a clear sign of his complete captivation. But the words he reiterated over the tea were meant to clear the fog, leaving the exact meaning bare.

Luckily, Xie Lian didn’t seem to mind it. If he had been bothered, he would have told Hua Cheng off when he flirted unabashedly yesterday night. Not only didn't do that, he also welcomed Hua Cheng’s forward questions and genuine praise during the entire time he shared his life stories. Could he be truly oblivious? He had lived a long life with rich experiences. A former prince, and a god. Surely he could recognize the nature of attention, despite the unbending vows.

Unless…the fact that Hua Cheng was a man was the reason he couldn't be taken seriously. The realization filled him with a surge of frustration. The thought of changing into a different form flickered in his mind and then he crushed it the moment it appeared, hating himself for it. It was the kind of desperation he didn't think he'd ever possess.

Why was he thinking so highly of himself in the first place? As if Xie Lian would accept him as anything more than a mere acquaintance? The man had maintained his vows for centuries, his will as immovable as a force of nature.

Hua Cheng snapped out of this frenzied daydream he was painting. This was too soon, and with no basis for a hint of success — unfathomable even. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself from entertaining a glimmer of hope. He was a greedy, selfish creature, used to taking what he wanted. However, Xie Lian wasn’t an ancient artifact or pretty trinket he could acquire just because he laid eyes on it.

Xie Lian had a torn look on his face. “I wasn’t being considerate either!” he sputtered, rushing to clear up as if the meaning of Hua Cheng’s strange laugh slowly dawned upon him. “You don’t have to explain it anymore.”

Hua Cheng smiled. “If gege says so.”

“You should rest. It must have been a tiring journey.” Xie Lian gestured towards the bench.

“It was alright,” Hua Cheng said and then they walked together to sit down on the bench.

The early morning breeze carried a soft chill. The mild sunlight dappled over them, breaking through the gaps between foliage of the thick canopy.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian began, his gaze fixed on the hand fiddling with the sash of his robe absentmindedly. “Next time if you want to lend spiritual power, don’t do it secretly.”

Hua Cheng's chest tightened. He gravely missed not having E-Ming around to press the palm of his hands into the hard metal.

“So I’ve been found out.” He let out a low laugh, only daring because he wasn’t shunned for the act. “But you have been mistaken, gege. I wasn’t lending it.”

Xie Lian looked Hua Cheng in the eye, expression earnest. “San Lang is too generous.”

“Isn’t it gege who is kind and patient?” Hua Cheng rebutted gently. “He could have kicked out this poor ghost from the beginning.”

“You weren’t intending to harm me,” Xie Lian pointed out. “There was no reason to be rude.”

“How is gege so certain? You shouldn’t trust strangers you bump into on the streets.” Hua Cheng smirked, catching Xie Lian’s look of placid wonder. “What if I am secretly planning something nefarious all along?”

Xie Lian laughed warmly, and Hua Cheng felt the sweet ache where the flesh of his body molded into something resembling a heart.

After a moment of recollection, Xie Lian became serious. “You had many opportunities if you wanted to trap me,” he laid out the plain truth, his words straightforward. “Wouldn’t it have been simpler just to take them before? Why waste your time doing mundane chores?”

“Is gege forgetting that I did corner him to appease my curiosity?” Hua Cheng reminded. He wasn’t above having his way, but this whole situation had been proved to be an exception.

“You didn't make me do anything,” Xie Lian said with a faint smile, throwing back Hua Cheng's own words from before, which had been spilled in arrogance in that abandoned shrine.

Hua Cheng had believed he was exploiting Xie Lian's guilt, which he did initially, but how could he really think Xie Lian would do something he didn’t really allow? If he didn't want to, he would have stopped living the life with nothing but clothes and a bamboo hat to his name. His hardship was a conscious decision. His actions were measured. His present predicament was deliberately chosen, whatever his reasoning might be.

(And contrary to what Hua Cheng had thought momentarily, he wasn’t the one driving the course of the river. He was simply pulled into its flow, led by the current.)

Normally, he'd call this manner of conduct and way of life foolish, as he had claimed in the beginning. But now he couldn't bring himself to do so. Because who was he to Xie Lian to pass his judgement?

“Gege is right. This one cannot grasp your wisdom,” Hua Cheng accepted, voice small.

“That's not– you’re too–,” Xie Lian stumbled, flustered because his meaning wasn't conveyed properly. “I really am not that impressive, San Lang.”

His hands grabbed the edge of the wood, knuckles turning white as he looked down, eyelids lowering. The slick tresses fell down his shoulders, obscuring his face in a dark silk curtain.

It wasn’t humbleness, Hua Cheng realized. It was deep-seated anguish. A severe self-reproach.

He was a fool. He swallowed hard against the heaviness of the stone lodged in his throat, gathering some courage. Lifting his hand, he carefully touched the strands of Xie Lian’s hair and tucked them delicately behind his ear.

Xie Lian glanced at him, his eyes were doleful. But there wasn't any revulsion in them.

“I don't know everything about you,” Hua Cheng admitted the bitter truth, moving his hand back to his side, repressing a slight tremor. “I might be wrong. But I'm certain about one thing.”

“Which is?” Xie Lian asked, the muscles in his throat flexed under the white fabric.

“Gege is a great company to be with. I’m always moved,” Hua Cheng said, not holding back. “I could never get tired of hearing you talk.”

Xie Lian’s eyes rounded into a shock, and he blushed fully, a scarlet tinge spreading to his neck.This nature of open and sincere praise seemed to be scarcity for him, so uncommon that he melted under its weight easily. Hua Cheng had found a tender spot, and he would keep building his knowledge to learn everything from its shape and depth, until he had mapped it completely.