#XieLianWeek2021

[heavensturtle]

Day 7: Free Day

A short fic for Day 7 of Xie Lian’s Birthday Week!

- - -

Note: So, I realize I’m posting this on day 9, I could just not keep a schedule this week.

Also, if you know me at all you know I need rules, free days are not good for me. So, my self-imposed prompt for today is writing about Xie Lian’s fears in a modern AU.

Also, this is again unedited. Good luck!

Spoiler alert: This is an AU, so technically no spoilers today!

- - -

It begins, as it always does, with the sound of rain on the roof.

Xie Lian rises from the futon where he’s been napping and races to the front closet to pull out the buckets he keeps expressly for this purpose. His hands are already shaking.

“Should have…” he scolds himself, should have fixed this weeks ago.

The small, dilapidated house on the edge of town was barely habitable when Xie Lian moved in a few months ago, but even so, it had been a vast improvement over where he’d been before.

Xie Lian hadn’t exactly minded sleeping in cars or in doorways or on the couches of friends who weren’t his friends any more. He hadn’t exactly minded the looks or the way people would turn and walk the other way when they saw him taking a rest from collecting bottles for the recycling center.

He hadn’t exactly minded, but he hadn’t exactly not minded, either.

Xie Lian runs to the guest bedroom, which is currently furnished with a bed, a nightstand, and a slowly growing wet spot on the wooden floor. Xie Lian places a cracked bucket underneath the drip.

For a long time the bed had just been a mattress placed directly on the floor, until one day Hua Cheng had turned up with a hammer and nails and proceeded to turn some scrap wood Xie Lian had been collecting for unspecified projects into a bedframe that looked like it belonged in a catalog. He’d built the nightstand almost as an aside. And suddenly, the room was transformed from poor to tastefully spare.  

Xie Lian has more drips to catch, so he rushes to the hallway to place his second bucket, and as he does so he catches sight of the painting Hua Cheng gifted him (Hua Cheng claims to have found it at a thrift store, but the signature in the corner, when Xie Lian had removed it from its frame one day, looked suspiciously like Hua Cheng’s name). He rushes to his bedroom to catch another drip, then to the kitchen, where the table Hua Cheng built out of more scraps fills the empty space by the oven, making the room feel cozy.

He’s just placing the last bucket under the drip by the back door when he hears the sound of the front door unlocking.

“Gege, are you home?” Hua Cheng calls. Hua Cheng has a key to the house; Xie Lian had insisted on giving him the spare when Hua Cheng had installed the lock only days after meeting Xie Lian. Hua Cheng had refused for several more days, saying Xie Lian should give it to someone he trusted, not seeming to realize that that person was him.

Hua Cheng should just let himself in, but instead he waits by the open door. Once, Xie Lian had pretended not to be home, just to see what would happen. Hua Cheng had closed the door, locked it again, and left, and Xie Lian had been left with an odd sense of bereavement.

“San Lang!” he calls, emerging from the little room by the back door to greet Hua Cheng. He runs across the main room and skids to a stop in his stockinged feet just in front of Hua Cheng, unable to contain his smile. Hua Cheng smiles back and holds up his hand as though to steady Xie Lian. When he sees Xie Lian isn’t going to fall over, he drops it. Xie Lian feels a little bereft.

Then he remembers the leaks.

“Ah, San Lang, maybe you could come back tomorrow? Now’s not a good time…” but he has nowhere to be, and can think of no reason why Hua Cheng shouldn’t also be here.

“Ah, but gege, I found something I wanted to try to cook with you?” Hua Cheng holds out a bag of groceries, and Xie Lian’s throat tightens.

Xie Lian spent years eating food picked out, or thrown out, by others, but when Hua Cheng brings him food it’s a categorically different experience. Hua Cheng asks him what he likes and dislikes, and doesn’t seem at all impatient when Xie Lian doesn’t know how to chop onions or peel a tomato or any of the rest of it. He simply puts his hands over Xie Lian’s and shows him.

“Oh! Uh-” Xie Lian stops talking, because a new drip has just begun, right over his head. A drop hits his forehead and rolls down to the tip of his nose.

“San Lang…” he feels his face grow hot. This is too much, Hua Cheng is going to see the buckets and realize just how poor of a caretaker Xie Lian is. With anyone else, Xie Lian wouldn’t spare it a thought. But Hua Cheng isn’t anyone else.

“Gege,” Hua Cheng chuckles, reaching out and wiping the drop from Xie Lian’s nose. For a terrible second Xie Lian thinks he’s about to lick it from his finger, but then Hua Cheng wipes it on his shirt and Xie Lian lets out a sigh.

“San Lang, this is just-”

“Your roof giving you trouble?” Hua Cheng finishes.

Xie Lian hangs his head. He really can’t look at Hua Cheng.

“I’m sorry, my house isn’t really suitable for company right now,” he admits.

Hua Cheng makes a small noise, and Xie Lian looks up. Hua Cheng is giving him an inscrutable look.

“Gege. If you want me to leave I will, but if this is about your roof, it’s really no problem at all, we can just fix it tomorrow.”

Xie Lian shifts uncomfortably, but it’s still raining hard, and he’s sure that Hua Cheng is getting cold in the doorway. Xie Lian is.

He moves to the side. “San Lang, please come inside.”

Hua Cheng beams, steps inside, and opens his arms. His coat is open and Xie Lian slips his arms inside when he goes to hug Hua Cheng, avoiding the wet exterior of his red peacoat.

Hua Cheng makes a soft choking noise.

“San L-” Xie Lian starts to pull back, but then Hua Cheng is pulling the edges of his coat around Xie Lian and Xie Lian’s house isn’t that cold but being cocooned inside Hua Cheng’s coat feels better. He lets out another sigh.

“It’s warm in here,” he mutters, and Hua Cheng wraps his arms around him.

“Gege, what’s this about?” Hua Cheng asks.

“I’m just glad you’re here,” he says.

Hua Cheng tightens his hold.

“Oh! San Lang! Your dinner,” Xie Lian extracts himself from Hua Cheng. Then he  picks up the bag of groceries that’s been discarded by Hua Cheng’s feet and takes it to the kitchen. Hua Cheng comes in a bit later, coatless, as Xie Lian is unloading everything onto the kitchen table. Xie Lian notices that Hua Cheng is wearing a black shirt that looks very good on him.

Hua Cheng has brought ingredients for at least three different meals, but tonight he wants to make the Korean version some sort of chicken dish. As they’re about to start putting things into the frying pan, another drip starts, just above the stove. The raindrop sizzles on the hot pan.

“Oh no,” Xie Lian buries his face in his hands. This really is too embarrassing.

Hua Cheng, who is standing next to Xie Lian ready to pass over ingredients, laughs delightedly.

“Gege, it seems we need another bucket to protect the food.”

“San Lang, please,” Xie Lian begs, the sound muffled.

“It’s fine, we can use a lid, and after tomorrow you won’t have to worry about it.” Hua Cheng pulls out a lid that’s much too large. “A little rain-hat,” he explains, holding it above the pan. He’s smiling at Xie Lian like he’s immensely pleased with himself.

Xie Lian stares at that smile for a long, quiet moment. Then: “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Hua Cheng sets the lid on the pan. A drop hits it and rolls off the side.

Xie Lian watches the drips landing on the lid, avoiding Hua Cheng’s face.

“San Lang, you’ve been so kind, but I can’t let you keep helping me.”

“Why not?” Hua Cheng’s voice sounds tinny, but maybe that’s just from the blood pounding behind Xie Lian’s ears.

“Because I don’t live here,” he admits, letting out a shaky breath.

Hua Cheng puts a hand on Xie Lian’s wrist, and Xie Lian turns to meet his eyes.

Hua Cheng is staring at him intently, focused. He can see Hua Cheng’s throat bob as he swallows.

“Gege, you do live here,” he says, “This is your home.”

Xie Lian shakes his head. He’s trembling now, and he knows Hua Cheng feels it because Hua Cheng takes hold of his hand and holds it, tightly.

“Actually, I’m homeless.”

Xie Lian doesn’t remember ever feeling afraid before, but in this moment, with Hua Cheng holding his hand and the frying pan gently smoking on the stove, he’s terrified.

He has something to lose, now.

“It’s not my house,” he goes on, “I found it. I, well, I moved in shortly before I met you. And I’ve just been waiting this whole time for someone to come take it away.”

He braces for the moment when Hua Cheng lets go of his hand. For when he asks what, exactly, Xie Lian was doing before he broke into someone’s house. For when he gets up and walks away.

None of that happens. Instead, Hua Cheng starts rubbing Xie Lian’s palm with his thumb. “They won’t take it away,” he says quietly.

The warmth radiating from Hua Cheng’s hand competes with the cold gripping Xie Lian’s heart. “How do you know?” he asks.

“I checked.”

“You- what?” Xie Lian’s mind is tripping over itself, trying to understand.

“I knew you were squatting when I met you, gege. You didn’t even have a lock on your door. So I checked the laws. You have squatter’s rights. You can stay in this house as long as you want to. You just have to take care of it, and after five years it’s yours if you want it.”

“You knew?” Xie Lian feels limp, all the nervous energy drained out of him.

Hua Cheng smiles brightly and tugs on Xie Lian’s hand until Xie Lian moves closer. Then he wraps his arms around Xie Lian, holding him close. Xie Lian presses himself against Hua Cheng, feeling Hua Cheng’s heart beating rapidly like it’s his own.

“Of course I knew. So I installed a lock. And helped you level the floors. And tomorrow we’ll fix the roof, and then we can start building your garden beds. And then, we can start filling this house with whatever you love most.”

Xie Lian swallows hard. The words slip out before he can stop them:

“With you, then?”

Hua Cheng laughs, a deep rumble that Xie Lian wants to never stop.

“This is your home, gege. But I’d be honored to be a part of it.”

Xie Lian smiles, hiding his face in Hua Cheng’s shirt.

“You already are.”

[deistarr]

Day 2: Amidst The Chaos - Moments From A War

Unconnected scenes of Xie Lian during the last war of the Kingdom of Xian Le.

Day 2's prompts were "Blood; Battle" from XieLianWeek2021's twitter, and "What a simple thing it is to be happy", from the TGCF Mini-Bang's Discord.

It's angsty, but with a slightly more positive ending. Hua Cheng doesn't appear in this chapter, but he's there in spirit.

[heavensturtle]

Day 5: Sky | Lanterns

A short fic for Day 5 of Xie Lian’s Birthday Week! - - -

Note: Post-canon. This got very long, and is unedited, so please forgive any mistakes. I will fix them soon!

Spoiler alert: The standard ‘read the book first’ applies :)

- - -

The inevitable happens: time passes, kingdoms fall, and the common people gradually forget about the old gods. First they pass into myth, then into a vague memory of a time when people looked to ascended beings as the source of good and misfortune in the world.

Xie Lian, forever wrapped in the arms of his most devoted believer, will never need to worry about the inevitable. But as for the others -

“There’s only one small shrine left,” Ling Wen sighs, dropping her forehead to her hand. She stares dejectedly at the open ledger before her.

Xie Lian, shaken, kneels down to meet her eyes.

“Let me see what I can do.”

* * *

He decides to bring it up a few weeks before the mid-autumn festival, as they’re strolling through the maple forest on Mount Taicang which has grown over the centuries to become almost indistinguishable from the forest of Xie Lian’s youth.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian begins, then hesitates. He doesn’t know what to say, or even what he’s asking for.

Hua Cheng turns and smiles at him so warmly that Xie Lian can feel it in his bones. He drops Hua Cheng’s hand, suddenly ashamed.

He cannot take advantage of Hua Cheng like this.

“What is it, gege?” Hua Cheng frowns, stopping to look at Xie Lian.

Xie Lian looks away. “Oh. I, um, I was just wondering if perhaps we should make a visit to the Ghost City soon.”

“Of course, whatever gege wishes,” Hua Cheng reaches out and tucks a lock of Xie Lian’s hair behind his ear. “Was that all?”

“Yes,” Xie Lian whispers.

Hua Cheng pinches his face a bit, but says nothing.

Xie Lian tries again a few nights later, when they’re lying in bed at Paradise Manor. Xie Lian is tucked against Hua Cheng’s chest, and Hua Cheng is idly running a hand through Xie Lian’s hair, brushing it away from his head and out across the mattress.

“San Lang,” he mutters, pushing back slightly to look Hua Cheng in the eye.

“Hmm?” Hua Cheng hums.

With the moonlight passing through the open windows, Xie lian can clearly make out Hua Cheng’s face. He’s looking at Xie Lian with that same warm expression, and Xie Lian immediately regrets his decision. He nuzzles closer to bury his face into Hua Cheng’s neck.

“Nothing,” he says, breathing in the fresh, almond scent of Hua Cheng’s skin.

Hua Cheng’s answering chuckle reverberates through Xie Lian’s body.

“All right, gege,” he says, and he returns to brushing Xie Lian’s hair.  

Finally, only three days before the festival, Xie Lian knows he can’t wait any longer.

“San Lang,” he calls out, closing his eyes and scrunching up his face, “Please, this is not a demand, it’s only a question, but I have to ask - I can’t just let- ”

He feels Hua Cheng’s hand on his cheek, and he opens his eyes.

“Gege would like me to light lanterns for his friend, yes?”

Stunned, Xie Lian looks up to meet Hua Cheng’s eyes.

Hua Cheng has that soft look on his face again, and again Xie Lian wants to hide. But he forces himself to answer.

“H-how?” is all he manages.

Hua Cheng smirks a bit and rubs his thumb across Xie Lian’s cheek.

“I knew this would happen, eventually,” Hua Cheng says, still smiling, “And I already told the residents of Ghost City to be ready for the celebration.”

Xie Lian can feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. Hua Cheng had known all along.

“Thank you, San Lang,” he manages, before he thinks he might cry again.

“Gege, they don’t deserve you,” Hua Cheng says seriously, cupping Xie Lian’s face in both his hands.

“And I don’t deserve you,” Xie Lian whispers, closing his eyes.

He feels a soft press of lips as Hua Cheng kisses him, and he sighs. Hua Cheng gathers him close, holding him up as the kiss goes on.

“You deserve more, but I’m so glad you’ve chosen me,” Hua Cheng says, kissing Xie Lian’s forehead.

“There could never be anyone better,” Xie Lian whispers hoarsely.

The night of the mid-autumn festival, Xie Lian sits at the banquet table with the rest of the gods. Shi Qingxuan, who re-ascended only ten years after her banishment and has now had several centuries of legitimate godhood behind her, sits to Xie Lian’s right and whispers to him throughout the absurdly boring speech Mu Qing attempts to give as a sort of morale boost to the rest of the deities.

“Xuan-xiong would have stopped him by now,” Shi Qingxuan mutters to Xie Lian.

“No, he would have just eaten everything at the table,” Xie Lian replies, trying to hide his smile behind his hand.

“Hmph,” Shi Qingxuan acknowledges, “By the way, how is your Ghost King?”

Xie Lian feels his lips twitch into a smile. “He’s very well.”

The lanterns have been a constant sign, year after year, of the gods’ waning importance. After Xie Lian, who always received his three thousand lanterns from Hua Cheng, the next best rarely made five hundred. Many were only in the tens of lanterns.

This year, when the lanterns are announced, Xie Lian feels the anticipation like it’s the first time all over again. Hua Cheng has promised to help Ling Wen; Xie Lian can’t wait to see what happens.

What happens is nothing that Xie Lian could have expected. The moment last place is announced, a cacophony of light explodes in the night sky, and a thousand lanterns rise into the air to celebrate the god.

A thousand for last place, Xie Lian thinks, what has Ghost City planned?

The plan becomes immediately apparent; every god, it seems, has been gifted a thousand lanterns by the Qiandeng Temple. Every god present recognizes the name and understands this is Hua Cheng’s doing. Hua Chengzu is rich, and powerful, with nearly limitless spiritual power - it’s not surprising he would be able to do this.What’s more surprising is that he would bother.

The gods look at one another with concern on their faces (with the exceptions of Pei Ming, who gives Xie Lian a knowing wink, and Ling Wen, who simply gives Xie Lian a look of extreme gratitude).

When Xie Lian’s three thousand lanterns finally arrive to rival the stars in the night sky, Xie Lian bows his head slightly, presses his fingers to his temple, and says Thank you.

Does gege like them? Hua Cheng wonders through their private communication array.

Does this mean they have believers? Xie Lian asks.

Of course, Hua Cheng replies, The Ghost City residents are already arguing over which ones they get to worship.

What?

Obviously, Qingxuan is at the top of the list. Hua Cheng sounds immensely pleased.

Because she’s so friendly? Xie Lian guesses.

No. Because she’s your closest friend.

Xie Lian can’t think of anything to say to that.

* * *

The inevitable happens: the residents of Ghost City, taking up their responsibility as ‘Grand-Uncle’s biggest fans’, build ever-more impressive temples to their chosen gods, competing to see which temple can burn the most incense, collect the most donations, light the most lanterns. It’s a ridiculous sort of worship, but oddly sincere, and after their initial embarrassment the gods grow to find the competition endearing.

Xie Lian, of course, only needs the attention of one ghost, the one who lies with him at night and cooks for him when he manages to burn his pancakes. The one who drowns him in kisses and scoops him into hugs that would surely destroy a mortal body.

One night, several years into the ever-escalating competition by the Ghost City residents, Hua Cheng pulls Xie Lian outside for a walk in the maple woods.

“Will gege stay with San Lang, this time?” he asks.

Xie Lian knows Hua Cheng is talking about the mid-autumn festival.

“Of course,” Xie Lian says, reaching for Hua Cheng’s hand.

“I would like,” Hua Cheng begins, then pauses.

“What is it, San Lang?” Xie Lian asks, stopping to look at Hua Cheng.

“It’s nothing,” Hua Cheng says, looking away.

“Please?” Xie Lian asks, reaching out to brush Hua Cheng’s hair back from his cheek.

“It’s only, I was thinking, we could light your lanterns together, this year,” Hua Cheng says timidly, as though he’s afraid Xie Lian will say no.

“Oh. San Lang,” Xie Lian breathes, pulling Hua Cheng close, “Nothing would make me happier.”

Hua Cheng grips Xie Lian even tighter. Xie Lian can feel him trembling.

“Can I light one for you, too?” Xie Lian asks.

Hua Cheng nods wordlessly, and Xie Lian feels his chest ache.

The rustling of the wind in the maple leaves accompanies them as they slowly rock in place, holding on to one another like they may never get to do this again, just like they have every other time they’ve done so.

[heavensturtle]

Day 4: Silk | White

A short fic for Day 4 of Xie Lian’s Birthday Week!

- - -

Note: This is my first time writing from Xie Lian’s perspective. It was even more difficult than I expected.

Spoiler alert: Spoilers abound, read the book first!

- - -

Xie Lian leans back in the bath and sighs. Ruoye stirs from its place amidst his pile of robes and weaves itself through his hair until it’s tied above Xie Lian’s head in a loose turban.

It’s been nearly a year.

Xie Lian sinks down until only his eyes remain above water. Ruoye flicks a stray hair out of the water and weaves it in with the rest.

The white silk band has always been affectionate, but Xie Lian can’t remember a time, before San Lang, when Ruoye would bathe with him. After, well - the first time he tried to leave the little creature on the floor after returning from Mount Tong’lu, Ruoye had shivered and twisted inconsolably and clung to Xie Lian’s wrist, his ankle, his neck, until finally Xie Lian had relented and allowed it to pile onto his head while he dipped into the water.

Truthfully, Xie Lian doesn’t mind. He hasn’t washed his hair much this year thanks to Ruoye’s clinging, but he’s glad to not be left alone.

He comes back up for air. Just that simple act spurs a memory of kneeling on the beach beside Hua Cheng, trying to breathe air into Hua Cheng’s ghost lungs, and he blushes.

“What was I thinking,” he mutters, holding his fingers to his lips, “San Lang…”

But San Lang can’t hear him.

Ruoye tightens its hold on Xie Lian’s hair, and he reaches up to pet it. “I miss them, too,” he says quietly. Although the two were always competing with one another, Xie Lian suspects Ruoye misses E’Ming nearly as much as Xie Lian himself misses Hua Cheng.

He boxes himself into the tub, elbows pressed against the edges, and remembers with a shudder the feeling of Hua Cheng’s body pressed against his in the equally confined space of the coffin while they floated across He Xuan’s territory. He remembers Hua Cheng making himself bigger so Xie Lian wouldn’t worry so much about crushing him, and how it had pushed their bodies that much closer together -

He sinks all the way down in the water this time and Ruoye, not prepared for the move, gets dunked. The silk band unravels itself from Xie Lian’s hair and drapes itself across the tub in dramatic fashion, but Xie Lian doesn’t notice because he’s hiding under the water, his eyes closed, a pained smile on his face like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

It’s always like this. Everything reminds him of Hua Cheng. Walking through the maple forest reminds him of sitting on the cart on the night of the ghost festival, when Hua Cheng had first approached him as San Lang. Chopping vegetables makes him think of E’Ming and its overzealousness, which makes him think about how jealous Hua Cheng was of the sword when Xie Lian would pet it and praise it.

Laying down to rest makes him think of Hua Cheng. When Hua Cheng returns, Xie Lian thinks, he’s going to make them lie down together for a month just to make up for the time he’s spent staring at the empty space on the mattress where Hua Cheng is supposed to be.

He clasps the ring in his hands, beneath the water, and imagines Hua Cheng walking in right at that moment, slipping out of his robes, and sliding into the bath behind Xie Lian. The expression on his face becomes even more complicated. Please, he thinks, come back soon.

He doesn’t imagine that at that very moment Hua Cheng is clutching at his own chest, feeling the warmth of Xie Lian’s hands around his heart, and is looking up at the star-strewn night sky.

And because Hua Cheng wants it to be a surprise, Xie Lian doesn’t hear when Hua Cheng whispers, a radiant smile on his face, “I’ll be there so soon, gege.”

Xie Lian simply climbs out of the bath, dries himself off, and crawls into bed, Ruoye trailing petulantly after him. It wraps itself damply around his wrist.

“Sorry, Ruoye,” Xie Lian murmurs, patting the silk band.

As he drifts off, he thinks that with the mid-autumn festival going on tomorrow people will be in high spirits, making it a good day to go collect scraps.

[heavensturtle]

Day 3: Fall | Fire

A short fic for Day 3 of Xie Lian Week!

- - -

Note: XL’s fall from grace from the perspective of Hua Cheng.

Spoiler Warning: You guessed it. Read the book first.

Content Warning: Some gore, mentions of stuff from book 4. This one’s dark, folks.

- - -

Hong’er knows, the moment he first sees the Crown Prince proceeding down the Martial Deity Avenue in a spectacularly realistic swordfight, that he belongs to this person. Wants to be possessed by them.

And when Taizi Dianxia catches him, mid-fall and bracing for death, he knows he’s in love.

The prince is resplendent, glorious, kind. Protects Hong’er at every turn. When the prince ascends, Hong’er feels joy cutting through his despair like a blade of sun through clouds. He desperately wishes to hold onto Dianxia, but eternity is a fitting reward for the prince, and Hong’er is a child with nothing to give.

Even as a god, Dianxia manages to reach him when he needs it most: live for me, the prince says, take me as the meaning of your life.

I do, Hong’er promises.

His heart skitters when, years later, he learns that the Crown Prince has returned. He follows the prince into war and thinks about the glorious figure his god cuts on the battlefield while he picks mud from his own boots in the evenings.

The army has a motto: ‘To die in battle for the Crown Prince is the greatest honor for a Xianle soldier.’

Hong’er has never cared where he came from. He’s never cared for titles. He transforms the saying in his mind: ‘To die in battle for you is my greatest honor.’ It’s his private oath to his god, between just the two of them and no one else.

When the Crown Prince descended, he was untouchable. But time and misfortune have a way of wearing down even the tallest mountains, and Xie Lian is crumbling under this war.

‘Gege,’ Hua Cheng whispers in the cave, shaking as he tries to cut Xie Lian’s hair with the sword Fangxin. Xie Lian is delirious, and doesn’t hear.

‘Gege,’ he whispers mournfully when he sees Xie Lian yelling at the patients in Buyou forest. He covers the god with his own quilt when Xie Lian lays down, tangled and blood-caked, to rest.

‘Gege,’ he whispers before charging in to fight off yet another gang out to desecrate one of the Crown Prince’s temples.

‘Gege,’ he cries, alone, after Xie Lian tells Hua Cheng to forget about him, and Hua Cheng feels Xie Lian’s despair in the flatness of his words.

* * *

Months, or maybe years later (it’s difficult to recall), he’s a wisp of something hovering over the battlefield.

Oh, he thinks, I died.

Then, like sun cutting through clouds, the thought: gege.

* * *

Cut to the side of a riverbank, when he wakes once more to the sound of Xie Lian’s voice.

Oh, my god, he thinks.

“I’m willing to never rest in peace,” he promises when Xie Lian, rumpled and muddy and somehow even more beautiful than Hong’er remembers, worries that Hong’er’s soul will never find rest.

It’s no peace if gege isn’t there, he doesn’t say.

“Oh my god,” he cries when Xie Lian is drunk and crying, alone, in a freshly-dug grave. He’s so cold, and so alone, and Hong’er can only hover brightly and cry, as loudly as he can, “Just hold on a little longer.”

“My god!” he tries to shout, watching gege fight Mu Qing with a stick after being driven from his place of cultivation by the other heavenly officials. He’s a seething pearl of rage wrapped inside a pale glow, and he could change now, but something holds him back.

“MY GOD!” he screams, writhing within the grasp of White No-Face. Something in the ghost’s grip is suppressing him, and he’s forced to watch as the fallen god is stabbed in the stomach and then again and again and again and it hurts and it hurts so much and and Xie Lian doesn’t look like anything anymore and Hong’er wants to die and take everyone with him -

and then White No-Face releases him.

He explodes into a ball of fire. He’s an inferno, and everything that was once alive is now burned black.

I’m so sorry, gege, he laments as great dark clouds roll from his savage body to choke out the sun.

[heavensturtle]

Day 6: Reincarnation | Memories

A short fic for Day 6 of Xie Lian’s Birthday Week!

- - -

Note: I got a bit behind with the prompts this week; thank you for your patience! This one was difficult to conceptualize, so it took a bit longer than I expected.

Spoiler alert: Spoilers! You’ve been alerted.

- - -

Xie Lian can’t die, so instead he forgets.

He forgets the face of the boy he caught during the parade down Martial Avenue and the face of the young soldier who guarded him from the flower demons. He forgets the prince who stabbed him through the heart and buried him alive, he forgets the girl he cared for as General Hua. He forgets, reliably and repeatedly.

It’s a strange practice to Hua Cheng, whose entire existence is predicated on the act of not forgetting. Hua Cheng remembers, and clings tightly to, every tiny moment that tethers him to gege: every word, every glance, anything that might help tug his soul back from the abyss. Once, when he was trapped in Mount Tong’lu, he became so afraid of forgetting gege’s face that he used his scimitar to carve Xie Lian’s image into stone, then again, and again, until his trial was over and he was reborn as a Supreme. It was this act alone that held him together whenever his soul threatened to disperse.

For someone without a body, remembering is the only way to be reborn.

For someone trapped in one, the opposite is true.

Xie Lian forgets pain. Hua Cheng first becomes aware of this fact when Xie Lian shows no obvious reaction to being stung by the scorpion snake at Banyue pass. When Hua Cheng moves to suck out the poison Xie Lian stops him after only a few seconds, claiming he’s fine, and to Hua Cheng’s horror it appears that gege is telling the truth.

When E’Ming slashes into Xie Lian’s arm just a few days later, Hua Cheng is so distraught that he simply stands numbly watching while Xie Lian and his friend set fire to Paradise Manor and flee with He Xuan in tow. Later, when Hua Cheng tries to apologize, Xie Lian seems confused, as though he were never in pain to begin with.

Hua Cheng notices, in the little ways that gege doesn’t act like the other gods. He leaps from clearly painful heights without a single noise of discomfort, he works long hours in the rice paddies without complaint, and he sleeps on a dusty straw mat that’s barely adequate for a peasant, let alone a great martial god. He’s been poisoned by corpses so often that he no longer feels the sting when he picks up a discarded skull.

Hua Cheng notices, and it makes his stomach turn.

At first, Hua Cheng is afraid that gege will recognize him before he is ready for it. But the more time he spends with gege, the more he fears that gege will never remember.

He’s confused, at first, why Xie Lian has such hazy memories of their early interactions. Of course, he thinks—he hopes—that Xie Lian has forgotten the details of the period when he was tormented by White-Clothed Calamity (he would pray for gege to forget, but that would be counterproductive). But what about earlier, before the torture?

A seed of understanding plants itself inside him the night Xie Lian tells him about the foolish declaration he made, as a young god, to a youth who didn’t know how to live on.

“Take me as the meaning of your life,” Xie Lian quotes, laughing at himself as though it’s the most ridiculous line he’s ever uttered.

Hua Cheng looks at him for a moment, shocked. But Xie Lian shows no recognition; he has no idea the boy he spoke to all those centuries ago is sitting before him now, in the dim light of a single candle, in the little half-collapsed shack called Puqi Shrine.

Oh, he realizes with a start, gege is ashamed.

He notices, in all the little ways Xie Lian speaks, or doesn’t speak; in the way he lights up when someone listens to his lectures on dispelling evil, the way he goes quiet when joining the gods’ communication array. How little he complains when ignored, or overlooked. How quickly he opens up to Hua Cheng, who has done nothing but merely listen.

He notices gege’s shame, and sometimes when he knows gege can’t see him he lets himself cry.

He has so utterly failed his beloved, so much so that Xie Lian now seems to expect nothing from the world—in fact, the very idea of wanting causes him pain. No wonder he’s forgotten his past, Hua Cheng thinks. How could someone remember their idealism with anything but pain, when the world has so thoroughly trampled them?

I still believe in you, Hua Cheng thinks, I never stopped believing.

He makes it his mission to make gege believe again. He makes it his mission to listen, and to praise, and to love, until Xie Lian sees himself the way Hua Cheng sees him. Noble, special, beautiful. Worthy. Xie Lian, without any apparent conscious volition, begins to realize he can rely on Hua Cheng, and then to believe him when he tells gege, in so many ways, how important he is.

Hua Cheng notices Xie Lian’s growing confidence in the way Xie Lian asserts himself around the other gods, in the way Xie Lian steps forward to protect Hua Cheng even when Hua Cheng is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He can’t help feeling a flush of giddiness whenever Xie Lian takes control and lets his natural confidence reassert itself. The knot in Hua Cheng’s chest loosens.

And finally, when he’s dying in Xie Lian’s arms, and Xie Lian is begging for him to stay, to listen, Hua Cheng sees the two martial gods waiting anxiously behind gege, watching intently even as they pretend not to. And he’s dying but he feels nothing but wild joy, because gege has Hua Cheng’s heart on a chain around his neck, and Hua Cheng will come back, and until he does he knows gege will not be left alone or forgotten.

There’s no banquet that does not come to an end, except for this one. Because Xie Lian remembers him now, and Hua Cheng will never forget.

[heavensturtle]

Day 2: Blood | Battle

A short fic for Day 2 of Xie Lian Week! I focused on the ‘blood’ part of this prompt.

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Note: Just a conversation between Xie Lian and Hua Cheng. This is post-canon, and builds on my fic from Day 6 of the HC Birthday Week series, so read that first!

Spoiler Warning: The usual. Read the book first, friends!

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They’re napping in the shade of a plum tree in the gardens of Qiandeng temple when Xie Lian lifts his cheek from Hua Cheng’s chest.

“San Lang,” he says, reaching out to tease the end of Hua Cheng’s braid, “I was wondering. Yesterday, when you were so upset with Mu Qing - ”

Hua Cheng holds back a snort. Mu Qing had been trying to conscript gege into some entirely irrelevant heavenly business that was wholly beneath him. Hua Cheng had said as much before pulling gege back into the temple for a night spent on much more productive activities.

“Well, I was thinking, when I first met you, you would have just dropped your blood rain on him to make your point. But you didn’t. Actually, I can’t remember the last time you used it.”

Hua Cheng lifts his head slightly to meet Xie Lian’s gaze.

“Does gege miss my blood rain?” He manages to make his voice sound suggestive, but his mind is racing ahead, fearing what Xie Lian is going to say next.

Xie Lian blushes and drops the braid. He scoots forward and gives Hua Cheng a brief kiss before rolling off of him, an arm and a leg still draped over Hua Cheng’s body.

“I’m just wondering,” Xie Lian mutters, his voice tickling Hua Cheng’s ear, “If there was a reason for it.”

Hua Cheng turns to face Xie Lian. The afternoon light passing through the plum blossoms casts a warm glow over gege’s face, and a few dark pink petals have tangled in gege’s hair. Hua Cheng plucks one from near Xie Lian’s ear and holds it up, studying it.

“The last time I used the blood rain,” he murmurs, keeping his gaze fixated on the flower petal pinched between his fingers, “I turned it into flower petals for you.”

Xie Lian’s eyes widen. “That was the last time?”

“Yes.”

Xie Lian must see something in his face, because he tightens his hold on Hua Cheng and slips a leg between his, pulling himself forward until their bodies become a single unit. They breathe together, for no reason other than because they can, and eventually Xie Lian asks through their private communication array:

Why?

Hua Cheng is careful with his thoughts; sometimes, when they’re talking this way, he lets things slip that he’s not ready to talk about. He would tell gege anything he asked, but there are some details gege doesn’t need to know. Things that would only hurt.

This is one of those details.

I didn’t need it any more, he replies simply.

San Lang, Xie Lian chides, running his hand down Hua Cheng’s side.

Hua Cheng trembles, just a tiny bit, and presses his face to the top of Xie Lian’s head. Xie Lian smells like plum blossoms and rain.

I didn’t need it any more, he repeats, more emphatically.

It’s no use. Xie Lian seems to hear what he’s refusing to say anyway. “Oh, San Lang,” he breathes, I’m so sorry. Xie Lian nuzzles his face even closer to Hua Cheng, kissing his collarbone, his adam’s apple, the edge of his jaw just below his ear. I’m so sorry.

Hua Cheng stiffens in gege’s embrace. Don’t, he says, Please. It’s not your fault.

But I could have -

No. You couldn’t have changed what happened, Hua Cheng interrupts. And besides, we’re here now, and he is not. “And I don’t need it any more,” he repeats out loud. 

He runs a hand through Xie Lian’s hair, starting at the crown of his head and running down his neck, then his back, his fingers tracing the side of gege’s spine. Xie Lian feels so delicate, a hollow-boned bird under Hua Cheng’s gentle touch, but this fragility is deceptive.

Beneath those fine features lies a heart that’s borne countless deaths, stabbed through a hundred times and more, yet still beats as strong as if it were brand new. A heart that wandered alone for centuries and somehow never lost its love for the world. A heart that loves Hua Cheng, unwaveringly and without any reason Hua Cheng can understand.

Xie Lian goes boneless with Hua Cheng’s ministrations, and Hua Cheng feels himself relaxing, too.

After an interminable period of time spent simply touching each other, Xie Lian speaks up.

“You know, you could start drowning Feng Xin and Mu Qing in flower petals if you wanted to be really devious.” There’s a smile in his voice.

Hua Cheng chuckles and rolls back onto his back, pulling Xie Lian with him. He hugs Xie Lian tightly against his chest.

“The flowers are for gege only,” he declares.

Xie Lian lifts up his head and gives Hua Cheng a tender smile. Hua Cheng feels suddenly very small, and warm, and sheltered.

“That sounds perfect,” Xie Lian says, reaching once again for Hua Cheng’s braid.

They stay right where they are, under the tree, until the sun has long disappeared from the sky, and Xie Lian is strewn with flower petals.

[heavensturtle]

Day 1: Flower | Swords

A short fic for Day 1 of Xie Lian’s Birthday Week!

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Note: Sorry this is a day late, I lost track of time.

Spoiler Alert: Book 4 spoilers.

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Hong’er watches in silence as Xie Lian destroys the flower he’d placed before the prince’s broken statue.  

“It wasn’t me,” he’d murmured when gege had confronted him, eyes wide in terror.  

But who else could it have been? Ever since gege caught him all those years ago, Hong’er has only ever seen him. Only ever loved him. Only ever wanted him. He has left gege a flower every day, first outside the palace gates, then inside the little shrine with the dilapidated crown prince statue, and now before the god himself, the only interruption to this ritual being his time as a helpless ghost fire.

Worshipping gege is his most natural state.

But the gesture triggers something in Xie Lian, who rages against the tiny flower, smashing it into the ground under his shoe. It’s the worst thing Hong’er has ever done, forcing himself to stand wordlessly watching gege’s heart break in front of him.

I’ll never let them know I’m watching over them, he’d promised Xie Lian. So he stands still, even though all he wants is to pull the prince into his arms and hold him tightly against his body until the world ends.

You are good, he wants to say as he follows gege from the descrated temple. I’ll believe in you until you believe it too, he wants to say when gege sighs heavily.

Instead he says, “I hope Your Highness would give me this sword and permit me to activate the human face disease.”

It’s the only way he knows to protect gege from himself.

Gege refuses, as Hong’er suspected he would. He bows his head.

And then, before he can intervene, he sees gege stab himself in the stomach and feels the sword penetrate his own viscera. He’s a ghost, there’s no reason for him to feel anything this bodily. But he’s been tied to Xie Lian for so long now that the feeling doesn’t surprise him.

He kneels beside the Flower-Crowned Prince that night, listening to him babble incoherently and brushing sweat-stained hair back from his face. Once, he hears gege whimper I’m sorry. It was beautiful. And he’s glad he’s a ghost in that moment because if he were a human those words would have flattened him. As it is he simply stops breathing to hold back the shuddering noises his body is threatening.

He holds gege’s hand as he drifts in and out of consciousness. And then, as the sky begins to take on a dirty grey tinge, the prince throws himself out into the streets.

Hong’er, as Wuming, can do nothing now but wait.

When the spirits finally come, he knows what to do. After the sword is roughly knocked from the hands of someone about to stab gege, Hong’er calmly picks it up and walks a little ways from the crowd so he won’t be noticed.  

He sees gege step out into the open and spread his arms to call the resentful spirits towards himself.  

He can feel them cut through gege’s soul like shrapnel, and he knows without a doubt that if he lets it continue for even one more second gege will be utterly destroyed. Perhaps his body will survive, but -

The rest is easy. He stabs Fangxin into the ground, dragging the stream towards himself.

It works. The darkness enveloping gege dissipates.

For a brief second, gege’s eyes meet his behind the mask, and he feels - oh god, he feels like his soul is bursting from his ghost skin, he feels bigger than the sky, and he wants, he wants - oh god he wants!

He’d hoped they would have more time. It doesn’t matter. If all he ever gets is this moment it’s still worth it.

He smiles.

And then he’s screaming. The pain would be intolerable, except that he’s aware in some distant corner of his semi-consciousness that someone else has taken on the burden, too. He screams through his body disappearing, through his soul being pulverized. He screams and trembles knowing that this other person, the one he loves, is holding him through it.

And then he’s gone, his soul ripped apart like a corpse after vultures, but that tiny piece that’s left lying on the ground in the shape of a little white flower feels a spark as Xie Lian picks it up, cradles it in his hands. Xie Lian’s hands are so warm.

He feels gege’s confusion, his relief, but most of all his exhaustion. And he knows in that moment he will have to come back. He will have to stay, and keep on staying.

No! He wants to scream when gege asks to be banished again, Please! I’ll never find you that way. But he’s a sliver of a ghost inside a tiny white flower, and he’s barely able to hold onto even that thought before he’s gone, drifting out across the empty desolation of Xianle.