#also i decided they're called 爱花

[unforth]

For the three sentence fic: wangxian or hualian, setting: in a garden!

Ah, thank you for sending a prompt! I might ultimately do both of these but all my Wangxian ideas were sex pollen so instead...

(Hualian, post-canon, fluff)

(definitely not three sentences. unedited.)

"Open your eyes." Hua Cheng's deep voice rumbled so close to Xie Lian's ear that Xie Lian could feel it as a tremble down his spine. For the barest moment, Xie Lian still didn't obey; his other senses were on high alert and even without vision he recognize how unusual this place - wherever it was - must be, for the smell was strong, beautiful, and achingly familiar. Xie Lian couldn't put his finger on what about it he knew, but in his bones, he knew this scent.

Xie Lian opened his eyes.

A field of pristine white flowers and bright spring-green leaves stretched out before them. The light breeze stirred the blossoms as they turned their faces toward the sun. There was an instant when Xie Lian didn't understand the significance of the field, but then the flowers' rich aroma combined with what he saw, and he gasped.

Once, centuries ago, these flowers had carpeted the fields of Xianle every spring.

Once, centuries ago, a small boy had left a single, picked bloom as a modest offering to the flower-crowned god.

Once...

…but…

He didn't know what these blossoms were called; when he'd been crown prince of Xianle, such a small matter had been beneath his interest. And after Xianle fell, these flowers had fallen with the kingdom: Xie Lian hadn't seen a single one.

This flower had died with Xianle.

"How...?" Twisting in Hua Cheng's arms, Xie Lian turned to see his face, meeting Hua Cheng's smug look what I accomplished, gege expression with one of wonder. "Where...?" Thoughts crowded to the fore in Xie Lian, but he could hardly bare to examine most of them, much less express them. "You should be careful gifting me property," Xie Lian finally managed, trying to keep his tone light. "Aren't you afraid I'll set it on fire again?"

Xianle burned in the spring, flames climbing into the sky, smoke obscuring the stars and moon as they engulfed the city, the farms, the fields and forests.

The lovely floral scent turned rancid as the flowers burned.

Trying to suppress a shudder, Xie Lian forced his expression into a smile despite his instinct to grimace.

"Stop," murmured Hua Cheng. Smile and grimace both were subsumed by confusion that Xie Lian expressed with a head tilt. "If they make you unhappy, you can express that. I don't mind."

"No," Xie Lian exclaimed more forcefully than he meant to. Allowing a tremble to course through him, he shook his head and repeated, "no, that's not it. They're beautiful."

"But...?"

"Why aren't you afraid that I'll set them on fire again?" Xie Lian mumbled.

"Because if it burns, it burns." Hua Cheng shrugged. Xie Lian blinked at him. "And after they've burned, I'll plant them again - again and again, every time. As long as a single bulb remains, the flowers can always be regrown."

"San Lang..."

"Isn't that life, gege?" Pulling Xie Lian closer, Hua Cheng wrapped his arms around Xie Lian's waist, tucked his chin onto Xie Lian's shoulder, laid a hand flat and steady and supportive on Xie Lian's belly. "Everything burns. It's what we do after the flames have subsided that shows our character."

"By that measure, I've performed pretty dismally," said Xie Lian with an awkward chuckle.

"By that measure, by any measure, you've survived, you've endured, you've rebuilt and rebuilt over and over again," Hua Cheng countered. "And you've always done it alone. You're amazing, gege. And whatever happens, whatever burns next, I swear to you: you'll never have to sift through the ashes alone ever again."

"Oh, San Lang." Xie Lian turned just enough to smear a kiss over Hua Cheng's cheek. "I love you."

"So much, always." Hua Cheng shifted to meet a second kiss with their lips; warmth and comfort and support glowed through Xie Lian.

A breeze stirred the flowers, their rich aroma filling the air.

If it burns, it burns.

The stalks rustled against each other, making a light, pleasing, soothing sound.

What can't San Lang and I rebuild?

Sunshine dazzled over the field, rendering the white blooms incandescent, the green leaves translucent, their shared embrace hot.

As long as he's by my side, what can't we do?

And together, they bloomed.

(send me an ask with a ship and a setting/trope/kink/genre and I'll write a ficlet that will definitely not be only three sentences but will hopefully be under 1k words)