Reading Time: 107 Minutes

Title: Blood and Ashes
Author: Timothy Wren
Fandom: Heaven Official’s Blessing (by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu)
Genre: Fantasy, First Time, Paranormal/Supernatural, Romance, Slash
Relationship(s): Hua Cheng/Xie Lian
Content Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Consensual Blood Drinking (Vampirism), Mentions of past temporary character death/canonical violence against MC, Mentions of past trauma/traumatic canon circumstances and experiences
Beta: MaiohMai
Alpha: MaiohMai, Tsukiyomi, Uintuva
Word Count: 52,520
Summary: Four hundred years into his banishment, Xie Lian stumbles upon a city of ghosts and spirits, where endless shops have a market for absolutely everything, and even an old god has something to trade. But Xie Lian’s blood is worth more than he could possibly imagine, and his fortune takes an abrupt turn when he meets San Lang, a young vampire who has even more secrets than treasures– and seems strangely eager to press both into Xie Lian’s weary hands.
Artist: WestWind

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Prologue: A Susurration of Wings

Hua Cheng didn’t have a throne in the main hall of Paradise Manor. The doors were large to receive supplicants, and to grant an audience with those who persuade Yin Yu that their matters were urgent enough, but frankly most of those found him at the Gambling Den, where he did preside over the room like the king he was.

Paradise Manor wan’t for them. It was made and designed for someone else entirely.

In Paradise Manor, the main hall was the only one outsiders ever saw. Those ghosts who served as servants and staff further in were thoroughly vetted to have such access. It did, however, mean that whenever residents were allowed to offer him gifts, they did so in the extravagant front room that was hardly more than a glorified foyer.

One of the more regular tithes was from the blood banks. They competed with each other for quality, all operating under the strict rules he’d set forth centuries ago. Hua Cheng did spend coin at each of them fairly regularly– even he pays in Ghost City– but that didn’t stop them from bringing their new or exotic vintages for his perusal in the desperate hope that they could claim his current favor and enjoy the rush of popularity that followed.

The bloodwine he sipped currently was different. From the moment it touched his lips, Hua Cheng’s focus narrowed onto it. He could not– precisely– say what it was he was noticing in the taste. He rolled the smallest sip around his palate, trying to place it.

“What on earth?” He murmured against the lip of his goblet, swirling the liquid inside as if, glinting in the light, it would reveal its secrets. The ghost who still held the bottle after the generous pour was practically vibrating in place.

“Does it please my lord?” She asked eagerly, trying and failing to subdue her tone in his presence. Hua Cheng did not spare her a glance, bringing the rim up to his mouth to taste again. It was no fluke; the wine slid over his tongue, almost bright. Not fire, or sunshine, both equally impossible to capture in human blood of all things, but putting him in mind of…

Hua Cheng took a delicate mouthful and held it over his tongue, trying to isolate that unnameable quality. He made a short, inquisitive sound and the ghost fell all over herself to lay out its pedigree.

“It’s from a strange donor we’ve had come by twice now. He doesn’t seem to be human, but he’s not a ghost either. A man calling himself ‘Xie Lian’–”

Every window in the hall shattered.

The goblet in his hand would have, too, except his aura had poured into it, searching, coveting. His grip was certainly hard enough to break the stem into a thousand pieces, otherwise. The glass will be rendered nie indestructible from the sheer amount of spiritual power.

Hua Cheng stared, unseeing, with the blood of his god in his mouth (on his tongue).

Divinity.

Most of his mind was a hurricane, swirling with every emotion as loud as thunder rocking through him, but a small corner noted the taste. Dianxia’s blood– Dianxia’s blood!— was not mortal but the ichor of an ascended being and the spark of power, of immortality, burned through it.

Bound as he was, it did not incinerate a lesser being on the spot, but the truth of it could not be entirely removed.

Hua Cheng’s hand shook as he lowered the goblet. His free hand rose to touch his lips, equally trembling. He did not breathe, as a rule, and yet his chest was tight as if he couldn’t get enough air. The thick taste on his tongue took on a new quality, for a long moment reverent.

Sunshine on a fresh-bloomed flower. The fire of divinity, subtle and unmistakable now that he knew what it was. A hint of spring wind, of autumn leaves. Human blood tasted like blood– iron-rich and sweet– but beings of power had not just the physical taste but their spiritual aura in it as well. The blood of other beings was prized for this; not all ghosts could bleed, but those who did had traces of other in their blood. It carried their essence.

Xie Lian’s essence.

The blood bank worker had thrown herself to the ground, cowering. She stayed quiet, biting a wound into her lip, body quaking with fear. It was as if she thought being as still and quiet as possible would spare her his wrath.

“Where is he?” All over the city, the ghost fires that lit the torches and lanterns surged, flames reaching high and burning crimson.

“M-my lord?” The ghost asked.

“The donor. Xie Lian.” The name from his lips was a caress, worshipful despite his narrowed eyes. Already countless wraith butterflies were scouring the city. Foolish, so foolish; he’d spent centuries searching through their eyes in every human settlement, yet hadn’t considered Xie Lian might find his own way to Ghost City.

Hadn’t taken precautions to know the moment his god stepped foot into his territory. The fact that he didn’t feel it– that he was not immediately aware— spoke to just how diminished the aura and spiritual presence of Dianxia really was.

If his presence truly could not be sensed, it was possible Hua Cheng had been close– even in the same building– without realizing. The thought was maddening. His butterflies swept through the streets, eliciting terror in their wake. Most of his citizens had nothing to fear from their watchful presence, but this was not the occasional butterfly to give respectful distance to; this was a swarm of them, covering ground fast and relentless.

“He has… I’m afraid he’s likely moved on, my lord!” The ghost threw herself into a kowtow. “This was his second donation. He’d spoken of… leaving the city shortly thereafter.”

“Where?”

“H-he d-didn’t say.” Her voice was pressed into the floor, a terrified whisper. She squeezed her eyes tight, awaiting retribution. It did not come. As furious as he was– as everything as he was– he could not be the kind of king who dissipated a resident for giving him bad news.

Specifically, he’d spent so long desperate for a crumb of reputable information about Dianxia’s whereabouts, that this information was worth its weight in gold.

Hua Cheng took two steps until he was right next to the ghost. He bent down and swept up the wine bottle in one smooth motion. Unspilled; she’d stoppered it as soon as he had swirled the second mouthful around, clearly intending to send it along to the kitchen staff to be prepared at his leisure. Good. He forced tension from his shoulders.

“Stand up.” He ordered quietly. The ghost got clumsily to her feet. She was a young vampire, perhaps three-quarters of a century old. Barely more than a fledgling.

“This donor… is precious to me. I’ve been searching for him for… a very long time.” Hua Cheng’s voice was soft. It did not carry. She leaned in to listen, perfectly aware of the danger.

“Yes, lord.” Said the ghost, swallowing thickly. And then, proving her mettle: “How should we prepare for him, should he visit again?”

Hua Cheng clenched his jaw so hard his fangs ached. His butterflies finished their first sweep of his territory and swung back around in frustration. He sent out the majority of him to the borders, the inbetween land outside of his city proper. There was a chance Xie Lian hadn’t gone far, after all.

He’d take the very lowest chance. The taste in his mouth was utterly beguiling, lingering as he purposefully ceased the biological functions that would see it fading; he did not swallow, his mouth went dry with the lack of fresh saliva. The taste sat on his tongue, immaculate, as the horror started to settle in.

Dianxia’s blood, mixed into a common wine like the average peasant. Dianxia’s blood, sold for an insultingly low price. Hua Cheng knew this, because it could have been every bit of gold in the city, and still too low. Anything of Dianxia’s was priceless, let alone his very lifesblood.

Hua Cheng held the goblet close to his chest, letting his eyes fall shut. Savoring it and opening up his thoughts fully to his next course of action, all at once.

He gave the blood bank worker her instructions, in careful detail. He left a wraith butterfly at every donation center in the city, and at every entrance and exit– on every main road. If the citizens protested the sharp increase in his watchful gaze, they were smart enough to keep silent about it.

The worker left, arms still shaking as she was grateful to leave with her life, and Hua Cheng was left with a bottle of bloodwine to settle in a place of honor in his quarters– and a goblet, already poured, which he didn’t know whether to drink– blasphemous– or let go to waste, which was unthinkable.

Xie Lian had given it as a donation and was rewarded for his contribution. He’d obviously intended for it to reach a vampire. The idea of some random fucking ghost tasting it– daring to drink the holiest of ichors without a care– nearly blinded him with rage. When the red faded, Hua Cheng resolved to find out where the rest of Xie Lian’s donation had gone, his blood presently unaccounted for.

It would be holier than anyone deserved, to receive his essence inside them. It was an honor Hua Cheng had already received, without the appreciation– the worship– such a benediction deserved. They were all of them unworthy.

But Hua Cheng had spent centuries ensuring he was the least undeserving, his hands the least worthless, shaped in every way to serve his god. He would not let the blessing go to waste.

“Dianxia.” He prayed, quiet with reverence. Faint sunlight filtered in through the open windows, bathing him in the glory of sharing the same air, the same sun as his god. Dust motes burned gold, the empty room as quiet as any temple.

He brought the goblet to his lips, closed his eyes, and drank.

1. Tenacity of Hope

Once a prince given everything he asked for– flowers, riches, even immortality and a palace in heaven– Xie Lian had had a long time now to get used to. Well. The opposite of that.

Nothing good lasts.

He will always be alone.

Such thoughts follow him, but he tries not to embrace them! Ah, there’s still so much good in the world.

But Xie Lian’s least favorite part about his curse is that he can’t properly navigate through the world. He is always lost, even when he has somewhere he could go.

It means when he finds those moments of fleeting happiness– somewhere safe to stay, food to eat, a bit of community to interact with– Xie Lian has two choices. He can stay, and let misfortune find him, closing that option forever– sometimes a mob, sometimes a place burning down, sometimes a war, etc. You get the picture.

Or he could leave, before things got awful… and hope one day he found his way back.

There were benefits to disavowing attachment, to turning his back on a place before it could hurt him, or get hurt… and a village still standing was a village he might visit in the future, one day. Maybe. If it was nice once…

Xie Lian had to hoard the smallest bits of comfort. A village where he didn’t starve. A kind bed for a night. Shelter under the awning of a store from the rain.

He took the hope of somewhere untainted and let it guide him. Maybe he can find his way there again. Maybe there will be a day of sunshine in his future, instead of constantly pouring rain. He needs to leave this kind of hope out there!

Even if leaving before he’s forced to, willfully giving up those small bits of joy, claws at his soul. It’s one thing for misfortune to take it from his hands– and quite another for Xie Lian to put it down before he’s forced to.

Like taking yourself out of a hot bath when the water is still scalding and lovely. Or leaving a meal half-finished, warm and aromatic and beckoning, the taste still fragrant on his tongue.

Oh, that’s so negative! Haha, Xie Lian doesn’t mind. Better to leave of his own volition than to have things burn down around him! It’s more like eating half a bao, and storing the other half for later.

Even if his stomach weeps with it, and he desperately, desperately wants to have a full bao. Well!

The only truly unfortunate thing is that even when Xie Lian moves on from a place before misfortune can catch up with him, which is probably very wise and definitely better for the people of a place, and he considers that area a “good place to return to”– Even if that’s the case, there is an unfortunate part!

Xie Lian, luck bound as it is, cannot purposefully find his way back. He can set out West and find himself in a sandstorm or a hurricane, and end up as far Northeast as possible! He could walk steadily in one direction and get caught in an avalanche! The earth itself will prevent him from reaching his destination with all manner of natural disaster, if the people don’t beat it to him!

So when Xie Lian found himself walking along a packed-earth road, with the fog rolling in, he sighed. He was hoping to wander East, through a string of coastal towns where nothing really bad had happened to him, tempting fate into perhaps earning enough coin slaying water-spirit creatures plaguing the small villages to get a meal, or perhaps a bed mat.

His last one had taken an unfortunate dip into a muddy ravine, and Xie Lian tumbled after it into a thicket of brambles and thorn bushes. Which, of course, happened to be the den of some very angry wildlife.

Suffice to say, that had been a few months ago, and Xie Lian was quite looking forward to maybe eventually being able to afford a replacement! It was the little things that kept him going.

But as the fog rolled in, and Xie Lian realized he’d walked for an hour or two in the forest with no idea which way he was going– and no way to tell direction from the thoroughly hidden sun– he came to terms with yet another foil in his travel plans.

Really, at this point, Xie Lian had to be the most flexible person alive! Well, very adaptable anyway. In fact, he prided himself on it, when once a small thing like a change in the royal menu would have sent him into fits.

He’s grown since then! He’s done… so much growing. And he is so, so very used to disappointment, that he almost doesn’t feel it anymore! So that’s a benefit! In fact, he has decided to look at this as a new opportunity for adventure!

So what if he was (originally) headed toward the coast? There were so many exciting and beautiful things in the world! Sometimes he even got to see them. And sometimes they weren’t even trying to eat, kill or maim him.

He could find something really nice on this new path his feet were following! It was possible. And even if it wasn’t likely, he could definitely see something interesting. Most of the things that happened to Xie Lian, even if they weren’t good things, at least had the grace to be interesting.

The old curse ‘May you live in interesting times!’ was definitely one of his many, many curses.

Xie Lian looked determinedly around, appreciating the branches that reached out through the fog. Very nice dark greens, on those leaves! He was a figure cut in white linen, almost blending in through the mist. It moved and swished about his calves, dampening his boots.

The air around him looked like twilight, though it had been high noon recently. Though the fog hid most of the trees, the wind had picked up under the overcast sky, lending the flora sound. Soft susurrations and dry, steady creaking of branches filtered down to Xie Lian, like a crow’s triumphant ca-ha-ha.

He really had no clue where this path was taking him. However, when he turned around to look at his footprints behind, he was met with a closing wall of fog, completely opaque and impenetrable!

Xie Lian hummed.

He kept his gait even, watching as the brief glimpse of evergreen trees through the flowing mist changed to rock formations, and then to even more barren land, until he had left the forest alone entirely.

The packed earth path was almost gone, now, more unmaintained dirt trail than road. Ruoye moved restlessly around his forearm, twisting in loops where it blended with his other bandages.

Then, Xie Lian followed the path around a bend of such, the rarely-used cart tracks turning– and the fog thinned up ahead. Xie Lian broke out into a wide grin.

“See, Ruoye?” He asked his companion. He beamed at the spooky atmosphere, the malevolent fog and the eerie skull-shaped rocks. “I knew it wouldn’t be so bad, going this way!”

And indeed, as if rewarding him for not giving up hope, it wasn’t! Not bad at all!

Up ahead was a city rising out of the spirit wastes. Xie Lian’s path had taken him along the shore between realms, half-here and half-not. He would normally be very worried about such a circumstance! Truly concerned!

But Xie Lian had visited the city of spirits before, and while it was wild– mischievous, uncouth, shouting and all manner of ruckus spilling into the dark streets hewn from rock and cobblestone, dripping with yin energy– it had been nice.

It was like there was so much misfortune around– dead souls, lost souls, and all the cackling malevolence of their existence– that his cursed shackle was spoiled for choice on what to latch onto, and so Xie Lian had been spared any truly unfortunate experience.

And what a city it was! Large, sprawling, with such incredible character.

Looking around, Xie Lian could walk the streets for weeks and not see everything there was to see, so huge was the city, and so crowded, and changing. He was excited to visit again, even if he hadn’t sought it out; not that he didn’t want to return, but he just knew he’d not likely get the chance, especially because it didn’t seem to be the type of place one could visit on purpose.

He quickened his pace eagerly, only to pause.

Out of the mist, a gossamer shape emerged, glowing softly. It was a butterfly; speed slow, languid, and as beautiful as anything Xie Lian had ever seen. It followed the path, as though a resident pilgriming back from some journey. A spirit of some sort, perhaps.

Certainly a breathtaking one.

White wings seemed to push back the fog as it continued, unhurried. The clouds even moved out of the way of the moon, so that its light could shine down and silver everything, adding highlights and contrast to the landscape, casting them in stark relief against the dark.

It passed Xie Lian.

It was as though time slowed down. The brief moments it was eye level with him seemed to take hours, stretching like taffy. Then, it was passed, floating its way to the city.

Xie Lian took a step after it, unable to help himself. Then another. He forced himself to stop, wide-eyed and flushed. He put a hand to his chest, focusing only on breathing.

Then, he righted himself with an inhale, putting his smile back on. Such a poignant beauty, enough that he was utterly captivated! Ghost City had many wonders, and many curses– Xie Lian walked into it hoping against hope that his own curses would get lost amidst that large number, as Xie Lian got lost, and that he could escape them for a while.

He didn’t expect that to happen, of course.

But he could always hope.

—

Ghost City was one of the most interesting places Xie Lian had ever visited. No, that’s not true– it had the top spot by a mile. Not even heaven, with its palace after palace, could match it. When everything was perfect and made of gold, well, nothing really stood out, did it?

Among the streets of the dead, every stall stood out. There were residential areas, and surely more shops and grocers spaced out amongst those homes, but the main road took Xie Lian to a vast night market that claimed the city center.

Xie Lian understood that the contents of said booths was want to change, even more frequently than human markets, given that the proprietors were even more volatile, and the demands of the crowd more fickle.

He saw some places that were the same as last time, but most had changed since his last visit. Xie Lian took in the sights with awe, unable to suppress a wide grin at the mayhem.

Of course, Xie Lian didn’t have the coin to actually buy anything. Most recently his money pouch had acquired a large cut, and his meager funds had slipped out along the path, with Xie Lian only discovering it much later in the day.

He could still enjoy the shops, though! Window shopping, as it were, though most were pop-up stalls instead of properly doored and walled and ‘windowed’. Traveling the market was like attending a festival; a novelty all on its own.

Hopefully his lost coin had gone to someone in need, blessed with all the luck Xie Lian lacked.

Last time Xie Lian was here, he’d found a simple way to make money. The only thing was, he had no way of navigating the chaotic streets of ghost city! Everywhere he looked, people were jostling, jeering and otherwise loud.

It was wonderful, yes, but also incredibly difficult to get your bearings.

The crowd was thick. Even trying to avoid them, he still was knocked about, elbows hitting him, people stumbling into his space, and once or twice he nearly caught a fist when someone waved eagerly to a friend. Xie Lian was just about to give up and find a quiet alley to go down for peace– perhaps unwisely; he definitely felt like shady things happened in the alleys of ghost city–when a gap opened up in the crowd.

It was like the sea parting. Suddenly, there was nobody touching Xie Lian. Nobody even within striking distance. A wide swath had been cut through the crowded street as if a godly sword had come down, martial and terrifying.

When Xie Lian looked up, it was like the sounds of the world paused; muted, hushed, reverent. His butterfly friend from before, the small glowing spirit, was floating through the air!

All of the ghosts were giving it a wide berth, as if they could no sooner walk into the path of the tiny spirit than cross a wall of blazing fire. In fact, one shorter ghost wasn’t paying attention, glanced up at the last second, and boldly threw himself away and to the ground to avoid crossing it.

“Hello!” Xie Lian said to it, feeling no need to be afraid. If the spirit was that powerful, he couldn’t really oppose it anyway, bound as he was. Besides, it had been nothing but perfectly friendly to him earlier.

The butterfly drifted over to Xie Lian like a moth to a flame. It did a lazy circuit around his head and then torso, looking quite pleased with itself, if something without a face or a body could radiate such emotions.

“Were you looking for me?” Xie Lian asked. “I never did thank you for showing me into the city.”

The butterfly did a twirl. Finally, it veered off away, and Xie Lian tried not to let his disappointment show. However, to his surprise, the butterfly came back! It stayed near Xie Lian for a moment, before venturing off once more, in the same direction.

It went no more than three or four feet before returning back to Xie Lian.

“You want me to follow you?” He asked. It bobbed up in down in the air, in a makeshift sort of nod.

Xie Lian thought about it for a moment. Then, he shrugged.

“It’s better than getting knocked about, I suppose. You seem to have a way with the crowd. I’ll follow.” He assured it.

If a butterfly could look self-satisfied, this one would! Yes, yes, it was a very imposing spirit, despite its small stature. Xie Lian smiled at it and they began their journey.

The crowd parted for the butterfly like butter around a hot knife. It was good to see ghosts so thoughtful. He wondered if the spirit was an elder, or sacred in some way. He was glad he’d chosen to be respectful from the beginning, but to Xie Lian. Well, it was like this– if you started out courteous, you could always turn to rudeness or violence later; but if you started out rude or violent, you could hardly take back such a negative first impression!

And when given the chance to handle things civilly, even some monsters– however surprised they might be– would sometimes take you up on it. Not always! And not every malicious spirit!

But if you painted everyone with a brush of ‘monster’, everyone would be a monster, every time. If you painted everyone with a ‘friend’ brush, however! You’d only be disappointed perhaps seven out of ten times. Even nine out of ten times was an improvement on those odds!

Xie Lian was the type of person to give the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise, and he was rewarded for that kind nature when he started noticing familiar landmarks around him, and then a familiar sign on a storefront.

“How did you know?” He asked, delighted. The butterfly had led him to the same blood donation center he’d frequented last time. “You’re right, this is exactly where I needed to go.”

He could hardly find a room for the night without any money at all! Trust he may, but Xie Lian was no fool; like his healthy distrust of the alleys, earlier, he simply would not tempt fate by sleeping on the open sidewalks surrounded by hungry ghosts.

“Thank you.” He said, belatedly. “You’re a wonderful guide.”

Once more the butterfly seemed to puff up, gratified at the praise. It drifted over to the door, beckoning. Xie Lian entered, a small bell over the door ringing to announce him.

The ghost behind the counter looked up boredly. Immediately, her expression went wooden. The spirit butterfly flew in after Xie Lian, as though courteously allowing him to enter first. He got the sense it would have held the door open for him if it could!

Charmed, Xie Lian walked to the counter, where the ghost attending it has found a welcoming smile to wear, though it did seem the smallest bit strained.

“Welcome back, Daozhang!” The woman said, a bit too loud. She corrected herself, and bowed. “We’re honored to receive your patronage.”

Taken aback by the initial volume, Xie Lian’s hand hovered over his chest, abortedly reaching for a sword he hadn’t had in a century. He laughed.

“What’s this?” He asked. “I’m surprised Lǎobǎnniáng remembers me!”

At this, her expression became oddly fixed. She looked briefly over to the butterfly, which hovered in the air next to Xie Lian. Carefully, Xie Lian offered out a hand– no pressure, no pressure! But if it wanted somewhere to perch!

As delicate as a soap bubble, it alighted on his proffered finger.

The ghost, seeming more bloodless– though of course all ghosts were bloodless– in the brief glow around the creature, cleared her throat.

“Daozhang.” She said, then cleared her throat again when it came out as a croak. “That is to say, Daozhang was very memorable. In fact, the wine produced with Daozhang’s donation was extremely good. Notably good, in fact. I’m afraid we underpaid significantly, as the price was far too low for such a high quality product.”

And then, to Xie Lian’s poorly hidden shock, she reached under the counter and pulled out a heavy bag of metal coin, clinking together audibly as she set it on the counter.

The ghost bowed again, even deeper.

“A thousand apologies,” She said formally. “Please accept. Daozhang is welcome any time and would be appropriately compensated in the future.”

She would not let Xie Lian leave and absolutely insisted he take the money. Some five minutes later, Xie Lian found himself standing outside the door with the big pouch and a dazed expression.

With disappointment, he realized his butterfly friend had stayed inside, and the woman was treating it as she’d treat any other customer. The door shut behind him on her words:

“… pleases his lordship?”

Someone walked by, having to step around Xie Lian at the last second, and he realized he was holding quite a lot of money out in the open. He shoved it into one sleeve for safekeeping, face hot, and looked around to see if anyone had noticed.

Ghost City was crowded. Xie Lian had never seen it brightly lit, always with the air of twilight instead of dawn, and witchlights compensating for the weak sun(light). The sounds and smells were interesting and varied, and the crowd was dressed in all manner of attire.

Bright colors were everywhere, yet a flash of red drew his eye almost in slow motion. A melodious voice drifted out, catching his attention.

“Daozhang.” A young man smiled, stepping out of the crowd. The butterfly from earlier flew lazily through the door as if it wasn’t there, floating over to the youth and to his outstretched hand.

“Oh, does this little one belong to you?” Xie Lian asked, relaxing.

“You could say that.” The youth allowed, an air of mischievousness about him. “Did Daozhang mean to donate blood?”

“Ah, I was going to, but they’ve already met their quota for the day, it seems.” Xie Lian stepped out of the way of the door nevertheless. As soon as they were away from the door, a hand whipped out to flip the sign to ‘closed.’

“Oh, that’s too bad. Does Daozhang donate often?” He did not seem to be bothered by the closure, and shrugged.

“This would be my third time, actually.” Xie Lian was not one to turn away nice conversation, and fell into step with him. “Were you going to donate?”

“This one is more apt to receive the donations,” He said simply, smiling in a way that showed a tiny flash of what Xie Lian realized was a sharper than usual canine. The youth ducked his head with a smile.

Caught staring for that brief second, Xie Lian hurriedly looked away. He realized he was being quite rude for another reason.

“Ah, where are my manners? I’m Xie Lian.”

The youth rocked forward on his heels.

“Daozhang can call this one San Lang.” He said, dark eyes appearing bright with enthusiasm.

San Lang, hm? He certainly looked the part of a cherished third son, dressed in red outer robes with minimal embellishments. White hemmed them, trailing off into a playful embroidery of butterflies. His hair, black and sleek, was pulled up into a lazy side tail.

“That’s not very formal,” Xie Lian said with amusement, buying into the tone he so obviously wanted to set. What a playful individual!

“San Lang isn’t a very formal person, I’m afraid.” His lips curved up. He was quick with retorts, too, and proud of his own wit.

“Oh? And yet I’m called Daozhang instead of Daoshi. Do I look like such an elder?” Xie Lian teased back, a little rusty from lack of practice. He knew he didn’t, of course; his face was forever the seventeen of first godhood. It was only centuries of hardship that made him appear older.

“No, of course not.” San Lang backpedaled gracefully, bringing up a hand to his chin as though deep in thought. “Perhaps ‘gege’, then?”

Xie Lian felt his ears flush.

San Lang grinned like a shark, sensing blood in the water.

“Unless Zhenren finds that too personal?” He quirked a brow, challenging.

Xie Lian couldn’t help but laugh, loudly. ‘Perfect person’? Hardly!

(Although… literally, San Lang was correct. Xie Lian was ‘someone who cultivated perfection and attained immortality’… eh, that kind of rank was long behind him. Not applicable here, San Lang!!)

“So bold, so bold!” Xie Lian praised. “Have mercy on this old man.”

“No, Gege was right the first time.” San Lang said stubbornly, lips pursed and fighting a smile. “He’s not old at all, and this one begs forgiveness for the presumption. Does Gege have a favorite candy?”

“Hm?” Xie Lian blinked at the sudden switch. “It’s Bing Tanghulu, why?”

San Lang grinned at him, changing their path, and suddenly they were among the push and pull of the crowd instead of walking carefully alongside the flow of people. Despite the chaos, Xie Lian was not jostled, and San Lang never disappeared from his side.

How–!?

Then Xie Lian saw the same spirit butterfly from before, hovering a few feet in front of them. Where the butterfly turned, the crowd parted like water around a boulder, smoothly creating a clear space for them.

Xie Lian followed where San Lang led, guided with the occasional hand near his elbow– not quite touching– and loudly telegraphed turns.

Finally, the youth executed a showman’s bow, gesturing Xie Lian to their destination. No sooner had he stepped off the road than San Lang swiped a triumphant stick of candied fruit from a display stand, holding it out in offering. His face was flushed with youthful excitement, eyes positively glittering. A few strands of hair had escaped his messy tail, floating in front of his ear.

“San Lang!” Xie Lian laughed, clapping. “Well done, well done.” So smooth and confident!

“Thanking Gege.” He demurred, bowing once more. He rightened himself and held out the stick, undeterred.

Xie Lian’s hands came up immediately to deny the gift: “I couldn’t possibly! It’s your treat.” He laughed.

San Lang pouted.

“Gege, this one worked so hard. Does Gege prefer a different flavor?” His hand hovered threateningly over the remaining skewers, a variety sticking up from the display like stalks of ripe wheat.

“No, no!” Xie Lian hurriedly took the stick and took a large bite of what turned out to be candied strawberry, pulling one of the berries off and crunching it between his teeth. The rock sugar coating cracked like glass, dissolving into sugar on his tongue, and the berry was a burst of fruity sweetness.

“Mmm!” He praised pointedly. “See, this one is good. No need to buy another. Ha ha.”

So saying, he juggled the treat in one hand while reaching into his sleeve with another, careful not to spill the entire bag of coin. He pulled out a few and made to set them on the counter.

San Lang casually intercepted him, closing Xie Lian’s fingers around the coinage and gently easing his fist back.

“My treat,” He said firmly. “Didn’t I say? For being so rude earlier.”

‘Daozhang’ was hardly rude! So much more respectful than ‘Gege.’

But it had been a very long time since Xie Lian was part of a community enough to be addressed so casually. More often he was ‘Daozhang’ or ‘Daoshi’ or even the distantly polite ‘Xian Sheng.’ Rarely was he even ‘Shushu’, appearing young as he did– forever too old to be mistaken as a teenager, but certainly not a generation above the villagers he encountered.

‘Gege’, especially spoken as San Lang spoke– playful, but somehow already fond– felt warm in Xie Lian’s heart.

“If San Lang insists.” Xie Lian said helplessly. “Ah, but let me treat you, too. Pick one!”

It was so rare that Xie Lian had enough coin to feed himself, let alone another person. Even then, it was usually charity to someone somehow less fortunate than himself, never a friendly stranger, just wanting his company! How absolutely novel.

“Mm, it’s too late.” San Lang, with a flash of a fanged smile and a magician’s trick of hand, revealed several coins already on the counter, swept quickly away by the boar-headed ghost making the candy.

He looked over the options for a moment before grabbing one, swirling it up. He made a show of examining it all over before grinning over the edge of it at Xie Lian, and taking a small bite.

“Is it good?” Xie Lian asked curiously. He’d chosen a different flavor. San Lang paused. The pale, filtered sunlight of Ghost City glanced off the wet shine of his lip.

“Would Gege like to try?” He held out the stick.

Xie Lian’s face flushed red.

“Ah, it’s fine, it’s fine!” He waved his hand like a fan.

“If Gege is sure.” San Lang’s eyes crinkled with mirth as he took another small bite. “The flavor is good. It’s a blood orange. Not with real blood, of course.”

“Oh!” Xie Lian realized. “Just because they were done accepting donations for the day– did I stop you from getting a meal? You could have bought something if I didn’t hold you up.”

“Gege didn’t stop me from anything,” San Lang was quick to reassure. “I have more than enough of their wine. Gege needn’t worry about this one.”

“I’m glad.” Xie Lian smiled widely. He also was happy to meet this stranger, and to have a nice evening. He took another bite of candied strawberry, savoring the unfamiliar flavors.

“Still, I made a lot of money, you know! More than I ever expected. San Lang should let me treat him, too.”

“Ah, but Gege is a guest in the city. Shouldn’t I be his guide? This San Lang can surely afford to show Gege around, and make his trip one to remember.”

“I couldn’t possibly.” Xie Lian laughed at the mere idea. “San Lang is very silly.”

San Lang grinned, as though this was the highest praise.

“It’s true Gege can buy himself many things with his bounty. Does he plan on donating again tomorrow?”

“Ah, I haven’t decided yet.” Xie Lian scratched the bridge of his nose. “I could, but isn’t that too much of a good thing? I have more than enough money for a good long while, now.”

“They wouldn’t offer if they couldn’t afford it.” San Lang pointed out reasonably. “The blood donation centers are a lucrative business in Ghost City.”

“Oh?” Xie Lian asked. “I was surprised, you know. I’d never heard of something like that.”

“Well, as you know, ghosts come in many different categories. Too many to name. Some of us are just the type that have different, ah, dietary needs. Ghost City is supposed to be a place where ghosts can live, instead of being bothersome in the mortal realm, so it follows that they ought to have some way to eat.”

“That makes sense.” Xie Lian said thoughtfully. “It’s really admirable, I think. Finding a way to survive without necessarily hurting people.”

He looked up wistfully.

“I’ve always thought it’s not what you are that makes you monstrous, but how you choose to live. If you’re a demon, but kind, then I’ll like you. If you’re unkind, you could be a heavenly official, and I still wouldn’t like you. That’s what I think, anyway.” Xie Lian coughed a little. “Ah, listen to me going on!”

He turned to San Lang with an apologetic smile, only to find the other man hanging onto every word.

“Gege need not ever apologize to me.” He said. “I’m glad Gege likes it. It’s exactly like you say– some vampires do kill to eat, but at least they have the choice not to. And hunting other people is forbidden within the city.”

He frowned, picking at the bamboo skewer he still held. “Hua Cheng, the city lord, established the blood centers early on. ‘Now you have no excuse for not following my rules,’ he said. A donor has to consent completely, or the vampire is killed on the spot.”

“Really?” Xie Lian asked curiously. “Just like that, no warning or anything?”

San Lang’s eyes darkened.

“No mercy for those who prey on others.” He said, mouth thinning out.

Then, turning to Xie Lian, he offered a lighter explanation.

“Ghost City is a wild place, Gege, but not lawless. A lot of it is ‘an eye for an eye,’ and Hua Cheng allows it. However, there are limits. Attacking another citizen goes against the whole point of the city– here you can live without fearing for your life, or fighting for it constantly. It’s a refuge of sorts for ghosts who would be exorcized or killed just for existing in the mortal realm.”

“How noble.” Xie Lian found himself saying, wide-eyed.

San Lang looked up. “I suppose.”

Xie Lian took a breath.

“He must be a very kind person, Lord Hua Cheng.” He mused.

“What makes you say that?” San Lang asked. He’d finished his treat and started breaking the skewer into smaller and smaller pieces.

“Well, he wants people to feel safe, right? That’s very kind. Making a city for ghosts, that’s one thing– but making his people feel safe here? That speaks to good character.”

A kind ruler was rare, Xie Lian had found. He’d seen kingdoms rise and fall, and nothing signed doom for a place as readily as a cruel king.

“For a ghost king, I suppose.” San Lang agreed, then shrugged. “It’s a little self serving, of course. Hua Cheng is also a vampire type of ghost. He needs the blood, too.”

“Ah, so you’re saying it’s not a matter of kindness, but of selfishness?” Xie Lian laughed. “I see, I see. He must really like blood wine, then.”

“Gege.” San Lang pursed his lips, eyes dancing. “Blood wine just keeps well, and you can buy it right off the shelf, no negotiating needed. Most vampires consider it inferior to blood fresh from the source.”

He toyed with the empty skewer, waving it in the air.

“That’s why the rules have to be enforced so harshly. They all prefer human blood, but a willing donor can be hard to find, even in Ghost City. They’re high demand, high cost. Hua Cheng makes sure no one is taken advantage of in unfavorable contracts. If you think donating blood to the center pays well, you should see what personal donors make!” He laughed, then froze all at once.

“Is it that nice?” Xie Lian wondered out loud. “I hadn’t thought about it. Well, maybe next time. I always did say I’d try anything once.”

That was how Xie Lian had found the donation center to begin with. He’d been charmed by the whole concept. Like he told San Lang, it was admirable– getting blood from willing donors instead of unwary travelers or otherwise peaceful villagers.

Something about the practice had caught Xie Lian utterly by surprise. A good surprise, which was rare in his long, long life.

It gave him some hope for the world, that there were monsters out there who didn’t want to be monstrous.

He’d thought, ‘why not?’ It was just a little blood.

Xie Lian had bled so much it rotted through his coffin.

Xie Lian had bled so much it seeped through the earth under his grave, a century’s lifeblood watering the ground below.

He’d bled enough to soak the soil down the bedrock.

Opening a vein or two to sate a vampire’s thirst was nothing, compared to that.

Besides, someone might as well get a little joy out of his suffering for a change! It certainly beat bleeding out for no reason at all– which Xie Lian found himself doing distressingly often.

“… Is Gege serious?” San Lang had a strange expression on his face, half grimacing.

Xie Lian wasn’t, but he wanted to tease back at this person who enjoyed being so mischievous.

“Why? Do you know anyone looking?” He tapped his index knuckle against his chin. “I’m sure I could find someone. The center did pay an awful lot for my donation.”

He got the pleasure of seeing San Lang’s eyes widen comically. Then, the vampire blurted, in a strange hurry:

“This one has been looking for a donor!”

“Really?” Xie Lian blinked at him, owlish. He had just been kidding, but if San Lang really was looking– well, Xie Lian had bled out for less, and he probably wouldn’t even die this time!

San Lang seemed like a nice enough person. He was the first friendly soul Xie Lian had encountered in… a very long time. Not just courteous to a stranger, but actually talking. Reacting with interest. He couldn’t quite explain it, but San Lang didn’t speak like Xie Lian was someone he’d only meet once and then forget about.

It was… uniquely enthralling.

“If Gege really wants to try it.” San Lang said, eyes fixed off to the side, shoulders stiff. “I’d… rather it be me.”

“Ah, San Lang.” Xie Lian said, oddly touched. “I thought you said it was a nice way to make money?”

“There are still unsavory people everywhere.” San Lang huffed. “I said it had to be consensual, and they had to be well compensated. That doesn’t mean some people bother to make it painless, much less a nice experience.”

“I can handle a little pain.” Xie Lian laughed, amused. “San Lang is kind to worry, though.”

“No, no– Gege need not lower himself to that level. This San Lang would hire him. I can promise to pay better than anyone else in the city, if that’s the concern.”

It was not Xie Lian’s concern, but now he was curious.

“Really?”

“En. Gege could not find anyone else more sincere than me.” He took a deep breath. “So please, if you’re serious, don’t go anywhere else.”

Privately, Xie Lian bit his lip. It was incredibly silly, but… he didn’t want to say goodbye to this person! Such intelligent conversation, and he felt he’d barely scratched the surface. The way San Lang spoke to him, as if every word was interesting, as if he really cared what Xie Lian had to say… He didn’t want to give it up just yet.

He could be very brave, to have something so nice for just a little while longer.

“Okay.” Xie Lian said in a rush. “Alright, yes. I’ll try it. Now?”

San Lang choked, badly. He coughed and sputtered, but waved off Xie Lian when he tried to pat him on the back.

“I’m fine, I’m– fine. Just. Surprised.” He rasped, covering his mouth with a fist to cough just a few times more. “No, pray Gege’s forgiveness, now is not a good time. Perhaps… in the morning?”

Xie Lian hummed out loud.

“Whenever is fine. My schedule is empty at the moment.” He opened his arms out to display his wandering state, the dusty linen robes– he was a traveler, with no schedule to speak of.

“Then, Gege should allow me to show him around Ghost City tonight.” San Lang said firmly. “This one promises to make it a night to remember.”

“Really?” Xie Lian, who had just been willing to offer his own blood to continue this nascent acquaintance–which he cupped in his hands like a smoking piece of tinder–asked. It was a strange and unfamiliar hope, to try to cultivate the friendship into a bold little flame.

“Of course.” San Lang said, sounding surprised, but serious. “Gege is going to love it. He’ll be my guest of honor, and want for nothing.”

“And in the morning, I can meet you for… the other thing?” Xie Lian asked, just to check. A full evening of this sounded too good to be true, much less continuing to spend time together in the morning. It was incredibly rare for anything to go his way, let alone so many things in a row.

San Lang took a steady breath, as though bracing himself.

“… En. In the morning, this one will be waiting.”

2. First Bite

To say Xie Lian was nervous would be an understatement. He’d agreed to this exchange before San Lang had shown him around and proved to be a peerless companion.

They’d been so friendly, in fact, that Xie Lian never would have agreed to accept money for an– ahem– ‘donation’ if they’d met before the discussion. He was sure the price of the street food San Lang had continuously pressed into his hands more than covered the cost, anyway.

But as he ascended the steps to the golden pavilion San Lang had pointed him to, he reflected that at least the other man could afford it! Paradise Manor is easily as luxurious as any of the palaces in heaven.

Instead of being designed to be as ostentatious as possible, and threatening in their wealth and status, this manor is more subdued. However, what intimidation factor it lacked from over-the-top wealth, it more than made up for with a miasma of malevolent energy!

Xie Lian smiled despite himself at the sign that emitted such an intense aura of bewitchment. It was definitely a playful feeling, though Xie Lian had no doubt the warding arrays on such a building would bring grave harm to an intruder.

As Xie Lian crossed the threshold, they didn’t bother him at all. He was a welcome guest. His shoulders relaxed as he approached the large, ornamental doors– that opened before he could even get close enough to knock, let alone raise his hand to do so.

Quite curious, Xie Lian got his first glance of the interior. His steps sunk into carpet more plush and thicker than his usual sleeping mats.

He couldn’t get more than a glance, however, because then San Lang was there– and looking away from him proved impossible.

“Gege.” He said, gesturing in welcome. He was dressed this time in black and white, though the trousers he was wearing were a vivid, bright red. The color stole his gaze for long moments. It suited him.

The black of his outer robe was deep and dark, embroidered at the shoulder and cuffs with golden stitching in swirling patterns, striking in contrast. The under layer at his collar was a perfect white.

Belatedly, Xie Lian noticed the robes were folded right-over-left, and had to muffle a snort into his robe sleeve. This man! A ghost indeed.

Black eyes glittered at him.

“Did Gege find the place alright?” He asked, walking even closer. He came to a stop a respectful distance away and looked properly interested in Xie Lian’s answer, as though the answer mattered to him and was not just idle chatter.

Xie Lian cannot remember the last time someone cared enough to ask such questions of him.

“San Lang has a lovely home.” Xie Lian smiled, sliding both wrists into his sleeves. “It’s got an incredible personality– just like San Lang.”

San Lang beamed, then scowled a little.

“Gege, this is just somewhere I come to pass the time, when I’m not busy. It’s hardly a home.” He waveed his hand dismissively, the picture of an arrogant young lord.

“But it’s so grand! Surely anybody would be proud to call it their home.”

“Does Gege really think so?” Something flashed behind his eyes, a response that trembled on his lips. He blinked and looked away, but only for a moment. His eyes came back to Xie Lian and it felt like a topic had shifted, slightly; like he had changed the subject in a different direction to where he intended.

San Lang shook himself, not waiting for an answer.

He held out a hand, hovering around Xie Lian’s elbow without actually touching, and guided him with body language into a side passage. They began traversing a magnificent hallway, adorned with sconces and abstract portraits.

“Don’t you think a ‘home’ should have people waiting for you when you arrive?” San Lang said, lightly. “To me, a place can only be home if I have a family there.”

Does San Lang have family? Xie Lian wanted to ask, but politely caught his tongue before the sentence could escape. How utterly rude he wanted to be, just to find out more about this mysterious stranger.

Black eyes cut across to him, knowing.

“It’s just me here, I’m afraid.” He said, then laughed. “Well, me and the other servants who mind the hall for the city lord. There’s no loved ones, only ghosts.”

By this metric, Xie Lian hadn’t had a home in a long, long time. Since the fall of Xian Le.

But then, he knew that.

Xie Lian schooled his expression into a proper smile.

“It’s not too late, then. San Lang is a handsome young man, he has time to get married and make a family.”

San Lang blinked a moment before grinning.

“Gege thinks I’m handsome?” He positively dimpled, rocking forward on his heels– walking backwards recklessly to manage it– toward Xie Lian.

“Fishing for compliments?” Xie Lian chided. “You must know what you look like.”

“Ah, but Gege–” San Lang pouts. “– surely you know that ghosts such as San Lang can change their appearance. Who’s to say I’m not hideous?”

“San Lang could never be hideous.” Unfortunate in the looks department, perhaps, but no soul as playful and kind as the ghost before him could be anything other than fetching. The turn of one’s face was only 1/10th the draw of a partner, after all! Any young lady would be lucky to catch his attention.

At the moment, he seemed to only have eyes for Xie Lian.

Xie Lian could count on one hand the number of times San Lang had looked away from him, and those were always to cast his eyes over their surroundings, or to adopt a pouting moue.

They entered a new corridor, this one obviously an outward-facing wall; high windows arched toward the ceiling, letting in Ghost City’s twilight. Hints of greenery peaked through and Xie Lian caught his attention wandering.

“Has Gege eaten already?” San Lang’s voice floated over, the fast-becoming-familiar cadence of casual tone but serious intent.

Truthfully, Xie Lian had not. He’d been so nervous the idea of food hadn’t phased him, nor had his stomach protested the missed meal after such rich foods yesterday. It was an abundance he scarcely enjoyed.

It chose that moment to betray him, however, rumbling audibly at the thought of food. Ah, one day of treats and eating his fill, and it was becoming spoiled! It had been centuries since his banquets as a prince but it seemed his stomach had never forgotten.

“Let’s visit the kitchens, breakfast is prepared.” San Lang said smoothly, directing him at once to a different door. Xie Lian began to suspect the magic of the manor was not limited to just the powerful wards.

“Ah, San Lang!” he protested, laughing. He was not quite bold or rude enough to deny him, but his meager attempts at chastisement fell as he caught a sideways glance from the man, the soft way his lips were turned up as if he were pleased to be called such.

Too pleased to even register the complaint, actually, and who was Xie Lian to complain about free food? Remember our circumstances, his stomach told him sternly! Just because they had a bit of money from the blood bank donation to afford food didn’t mean they could just wave off offers!

Still: “I’m meant to be giving San Lang his breakfast.” Xie Lian pointed out, the barest undertone of chastening. Really, he was going to so much trouble, all for Xie Lian!

San Lang’s playful walk took a stumble. As graceful as the youth was, he was being very silly to walk backwards like that.

Xie Lian would have tripped and probably broken his entire neck two steps in.

The once god who had been, at that moment, crossing the threshold of the doorway after him immediately darted forward, catching his arm to right him.

San Lang’s cheeks were flushed, his overall countenance appearing almost breathless as Xie Lian straightened him with a grip on both forearms.

His eyes were bright, attentive.

“Gege…” He said tightly. Then, with a crooked little smile: “It seems this San Lang can’t help swooning for you.”

With a care that belayed his casual air, he leaned his weight into Xie Lian, as though faint. One of his hands went to his brow, knuckles brushing his forehead. Xie Lian’s grip did not leave his forearm so his arm trailed with him.

“Oh, literally swooning,” He purred, completely shameless. Xie Lian bore his weight easily, startled into laughter.

“San Lang!” He protested, and then– hardly believing his own daring– swooped him up into a carry.

He was surprisingly light. Or maybe Xie Lian just was stronger than he remembered, having had a few good meals in a row recently.

“Gege!” San Lang flushed a brilliant red, feet kicking a bit in the air. His very pink, wet mouth fell open in a display of true surprise, eyes wide– but pleased. So clearly pleased and making himself right at home in Xie Lian’s arms.

Xie Lian could not remember ever having the opportunity to be so playful with someone. In life, he’d had a role to play, always; in banishment, he’d had no one close. It rose warm in his chest, feeling fluffy and sun-kissed.

“M– San Lang is faint from hunger, I see.” He said, knowledgeably. He’d almost said “My San lang” which would have been entirely too much for such a joke, ruining the light-hearted bubble around them. In these moments it felt as though the horrors and hardship of life were far away.

“No!” San Lang laughed, leaning all his weight so trusting lying into Xie Lians arms. “That’s not it at all, Gege.”

His eyes burned somehow, like gazing into coal embers. He looked entirely content to be held, although still breathless– almost windswept, lips parted.

“Well, I did agree to be San Lang’s breakfast, didn’t I?” Xie Lian carried him in the direction he’d indicated earlier. Slowly, San Lang’s hands went from resting flush against his chest to winding around his neck. Xie Lian hummed in approval and San Lang ducked his chin briefly.

“Gege is… on the menu, I suppose.” San Lang conceded, as though it was a great forfeit. “But he has to eat breakfast first, or he might not be able to donate safely.”

“Mm, that seems fair.” Xie Lian agreed. “Is it this way to the kitchens?”

“Yes, Gege.” San Lang breathed, looking up at him with still-wide eyes. Something about it was strangely familiar, but Xie Lian didn’t often make a habit of carrying people.

San Lang probably hadn’t been carried much, either. For a moment Xie Lian was shocked by his own boldness.

… Well, it was already done, and neither of them seemed to mind. It was probably fine!

Still, as they came– not to an actual kitchen, but a dining room of sorts, with fine tapestried walls and a large wooden table laboring under countless full plates and exotic dishware– Xie Lian paused for a moment on how to put his companion down.

San Lang made it easy for him, slipping out of his arms with a content sigh. For a moment, his arms were still wound around Xie Lian’s neck, and Xie Lian’s hands tingled with the strangest urge to pull him back when he stepped away.

Ah, that’s definitely enough liberties taken for one day! For one hundred days, even. Xie Lian patted his own cheek smartly and averted his eyes, seeing as he did so the wealth of dishes.

“Ah, San Lang, surely this spread is reserved for the lord of the manor?” It couldn’t possibly be for guests, right!? Xie Lian had not seen such a banquet since the feasts in heaven.

“No, it’s all for Gege.” San Lang pulled out a wooden chair with a flourish. Too surprised to protest, Xie Lian sat.

San Lang pushed his chair in a little with no apparent effort, then took his own seat across from him. With no decorum whatsoever, he placed both elbows on the table and settled his chin in his palms, watching.

His expression was…

“Does the food not meet Gege’s tastes?” He teased, impishly. A smile played on his very pink lips. “San Lang can have something made for Gege specifically. What would he like?”

Abashed at the thought of creating yet more work, Xie Lian quickly began loading his plate with whatever was in front of him. He wasn’t picky, not after so many years! And he had just thought earlier, “we are not so well off as to turn away any free meal!” But this was testing his resolve. It was so excessive! Beyond what any one man could eat! Entirely too rich for Xie Lian of all people, who would be content with a stale bun!

San Lang laughed soundlessly across from him, pressing a smile into his own palm. His eyes never left Xie Lian. Such an attentive host!

Finally, when his plate was full, Xie Lian looked down to see what actual food was there.

It would be easier to say what foods weren’t there! Bowls of steaming congee were there, some sweet, some savory. Fried dough, fresh fruit– even some that were out of season, though Xie Lian didn’t exactly know what seasons, if any, Ghost City followed. Still, fruits from spring and autumn shouldn’t be next to each other, perfectly preserved!

Meat in neat rows, some on skewers, some sauced. Steamed buns, fried buns, dumplings, wontons. He had to stop taking it all in or he’d explode!

“San Lang, it’s far too much!” He protested, unsure where to even begin. Minding the threat, however, he quickly took up a bun– one of the safer options– and took a large demonstrative bite out of it.

Savory flavor burst on his tongue, nuanced and complex. Xie Lian moaned in surprise, eyes slipping closed. Not just abundance, but quality! Too much, far too much!

“I can’t possibly eat all this.” Xie Lian told him, fretting.

San Lang was too smooth for him, however, and already had his answer prepared.

“It won’t be wasted.” He promised. “Any extras will be donated or preserved with magic. So really, take whatever you like.”

And, well, put that way… Xie Lian’s stomach had very definite opinions on what it wanted to take.

He has to eat well to provide blood to San Lang, right? The notion of taking care of his body to provide for someone else… it was strange, a bit warm. Xie Lian shrugged it off for now and pulled the tastiest looking dishes to him, praying he’d be forgiven for the excess.

When he absolutely couldn’t eat anymore, after three times of San Lang offering him ‘just one more dish’, Xie Lian stood up from the table.

“I’ll burst!” He said, loudly. “I absolutely cannot eat one more bite.”

“Okay, okay.” San Lang held up both hands, as though innocent. It was like a thief showing his empty hands, however; Xie Lian had already seen you pickpocket someone, sleight of hand doesn’t excuse the crime!

Xie Lian squinted at him.

“You won’t try to give me just one more piece of dessert?” He asked suspiciously.

“Does Gege want another little cake?” San Lang asked at once, already reaching for one to offer. He froze. Yanked both hands behind his back, folded them there.

Xie Lian sighed.

“Really, really! No more bites.” He paused. “Okay, one more bite.”

San Lang perked up.

Xie Lian pointed at him.

“From you! Unless… you’ve changed your mind?”

Alarm crossed San Lang’s pretty features. He stood hurriedly, with none of his usual grace.

“No, I haven’t–!” He took a breath, tried for another dazzling smile. “I haven’t changed my mind, Gege. Let’s go somewhere… more comfortable.”

He led Xie Lian through a hallway that looked the exact same as the one they’d already crossed, but it ended differently. As though conjured by a distance-shortening array, it sprung up to connect the room they were in to where San Lang wanted to go.

The door opened to a cozy sitting room, with an unlit stone fireplace against one wall, carved in a half-circle. The walls were a mahogany wood where they weren’t draped in red curtains, candelabras rising strategically on either side of the hearth. Plush red couches framed a dark wooden square table, low to the ground. A large mirror framed in gold or bronze sat above the fireplace.

The carpet, like at the entrance, was decadently plush.

San Lang swept into the room ahead of him, throwing out an errant hand that had pale purple fire erupting in the fireplace without need for wood or kindling. Almost immediately, a cozy heat began to build.

A thought occurred to Xie Lian, awfully belated.

“How does San Lang usually do this?” He blurted, gesturing vaguely.

San Lang turned around and blinked at him, lavender light reflecting off his cheek, eyes bright as stars.

“Hmm?”

Professional! Xie Lian could be so professional at this, though of course San Lang knows it’s his first time. He’d seen Xie Lian’s surprise at the initial idea, after all.

“Does San Lang have a beloved?” Xie Lian blurted. Then: “Oh, I just mean… Will your previous donor get jealous of me being here? Aha, that is, who you usually… receive…from.” He finished lamely.

Was he stepping on any toes here, or not!?

“My…previous donor.” San Lang said, sounding surprised. “Hmm, no. Nothing like that.”

Something about that sentence, though. Not ‘there isn’t anyone currently’, but…

“Could it be that San Lang has also never done this before?” He asked, curious. And then threw his hands up, flustered, to explain. “It’s just you seem so knowledgeable!”

“No.” San Lang said, with an odd sincerity. “There’s never been anyone but Gege.”

He smiled, small and crooked as if to reassure, and Xie Lian felt his heart clench. Then, like the piercing sentiment was a freshly-budded cherry blossom, it vanished in the wind.

“So you’ll have to be gentle with this one.” San Lang said, playfully. He put his hands behind his back as he walked, shoulders twisting to and fro.

“Ah, San Lang! The pressure!” Xie Lian allowed himself to laugh. “I’d better not mess up, then.”

Xie Lian walked closer, entering the room properly, only stopping when he was within arms reach.

“Gege will be perfect.” San Lang said simply, looking over with a dimpled smile. “Pray this San Lang doesn’t ruin the experience for Gege! This one has never done it before, either.”

“Ah, I’m sure you’ll be fine!” Xie Lian reached out, hesitated, and then boldly patted San Lang’s arm anyway. They’ll be even closer than this soon! So a little reassuring pat isn’t too much! “It’s in your nature to… well.” He flushed a little.

“Di—Gege is too kind.” San Lang demurred, leading him further into the lounge. It was well lit, now, and properly warm, firelight from the ghostly hearth arcing through the room in gentle invitation. Along with the couches, there was a long chaise stretching along one wall, far too large for one person. Every bit of furniture was decadently embroidered with more than a fair amount of cushioning underneath—more so than even most beds Xie Lian had seen.

The chaise in particular looked so comfortable that Xie Lian’s feet immediately wanted to take him to it, but centuries of censure had curbed his taste for fine things and luxurious sensations. There was once a time when he assumed such finery was for him, like one knew water was wet. He chided his feet gently. That time had long passed.

“Does Gege have a preference?” San Lang’s voice was silk, but somehow… deeper than it had been. A dark purr that seemed like it ought to come from a much older or bigger chest.

A preference…?

“Oh!” Xie Lian startled. “Anywhere is fine. Aha. Sitting up, sitting down, standing here… All is fine. However San Lang wants me!”

San Lang’s mouth parted slightly, staring.

“Whatever is most comfortable for San Lang!” Xie Lian amended, realizing he was rambling. His cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

“Then—” A brief cough into his hand. San Lang looked away and then back, stepping closer. He took a moment in which Xie Lian only watched, in what he hoped was an encouraging and non-judgmental fashion, as San Lang worked out his ideal configuration.

Soon, they were right in front of one another, close enough for Xie Lian’s rising blush to heat the air. Of course he was close, he chided his rushing pulse. He was about to get even closer!

The room was very, very warm from the fire, all of a sudden.

“Is this okay?” San Lang murmured, eyes intent and serious even as they remained half-lidded. His hands slowly came to clasp Xie Lian’s forearms, stepping in until they were almost chest to chest.

“Y-yes.” Xie Lian cleared his throat briefly. This close, he could smell San Lang—the brief note of woodsmoke and incense, of something faintly floral. Or maybe herbal?

Xie Lian leaned in the slightest amount to parse it, then back with a softly bitten lip.

San Lang’s eyes burned up at him, gilded amber in the light of the fire. Almost red.

“Like this.” San Lang said, lips barely moving. He swept the curtain of Xie Lian’s long hair over one shoulder, baring the soft naked skin where his neck rose from his collar.

“Alright.” Xie Lian said back, hardly daring to breathe as San Lang leaned in until their noses almost brushed. His heart thudded in his ears, pulse horribly obvious.

He hoped San Lang didn’t think he was afraid.

“Gege.” San Lang’s voice trembled. Only the grip at his forearms stops Xie Lian from reaching up to cup his head, by some distant instinct. Wanting to give comfort, or something like it. He could not see the vampire’s face, but he could feel the warmth of his breath.

“It’s alright.” Xie Lian tried to laugh a little and did not even remotely manage, shifting his arms until his hands could clasp San Lang’s forearms right back, under his elbows.

A nose brushed his pulse, only once. Dark hair spilled like ink onto his collar.

“This San Lang has never done this before.” He breathed, shaky into Xie Lian’s skin. “So… Gege will have to be very clear. If something doesn’t feel good. Or… if something does.” Breath and skin, a promise of blood.

“Ah, San Lang!” Xie Lian laughed, perhaps a touch off center. He patted the vampire’s arms, assuring. “I’m definitely not here for it to feel good! It’s a meal for you!”

A soft feeling, fleeting pressure, a butterfly wing sensation of movement—Xie Lian’s breath hitched as he knew it for a kiss.

He had never been kissed before, except perhaps his mother’s lips to his forehead when he was very, very small. He can’t quite remember it.

He was certain it felt nothing like this.

Every line of his body was tense, taut like a bow’s string. Since San Lang couldn’t see, he drew his lower lip into his mouth, the sting a welcome respite from the eruption of tingling along his neck, damp from San Lang’s breath.

A half-there sigh of air that might be laughter, the movement that might be San Lang’s mouth trembling with it.

His voice, emerging somewhere near his usual playfulness, and yet leagues away from it. Still oh so very deep.

“Mm, no, Gege…” Fingers tensing for half a breath against his wrist, the sensitive veins there.

“It’s supposed to feel very good for the recipient.” The words pressed as kisses into his skin, breathed hot against him. “That is, if I’m doing it right.”

Xie Lian’s grip tightened despite himself, his entire abdomen mimicking the motion— clenching up, even as his toes curl. His body was anticipating something— pain, the bite? It’s an unfamiliar current in him, sparks lit along his nerves from the attention at his neck.

“Ah—ah, ha.” Xie Lian tried to laugh but it came out as long vowels reaching with yearning toward San Lang, clipped and panting. His head tipped back, unconscious but representing a gilded invitation. Sweat beaded at his temples from the overwhelmingly sweltering heat of the fire.

San Lang drew soft, soft lips along the curve of Xie Lian’s neck, purposeful this time, yet as careful as someone stroking a rose without disturbing a single petal.

Hands tightened, holding Xie Lian very, very still. As if he was going anywhere!

“Gege. May I?” The words were a caress and yet sounded a touch strangled, as though his throat was tight. With eagerness, or perhaps the strength of his hunger.

Of course, it was only natural that he would… that he was eager for his meal. Hadn’t Xie Lian felt saliva pool in his mouth earlier, to see an entire feast set aside for him?

“Yes,” Xie Lian sighed, letting his eyes close softly. His hand twitched with the urge to— no, Xie Lian decides to be bold, bringing his hand up San Lang’s arm and shoulder until it can slide into soft raven hair, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him impossibly closer.

“Di—” The pressure moved San Lang’s mouth more firmly into his skin, burying the words, and his frame endured a full-body shiver.

Then, he inhaled very raggedly, and oh so carefully bit down.

“Ah!” Xie Lian gasped, in spite of his previous resolution to bear this silently. He was prepared for pain. He could have handled pain.

But the twin pinpricks of sensation were quick like pinching out a candle’s flame, more flash of heat than pain. On the scale Xie Lian was used to, it didn’t even register.

Instead, San Lang’s teeth moved in him, catching on flesh, and the sensation was… was…

Xie Lian had no name for it. Sightless, his eyes—which had flown open immediately—stared at the ceiling of the room, struggling to stay still as his breath stuttered in his chest and lungs rattled. He was panting to get in enough air, breaths short and shallow so as not to alert San Lang of the sudden difficulties.

Subtle, he could be subtle!

Every rocking pressure of the bite licked through him, as shocking as if lightning itself had entered his veins. As invigorating. He had to fight not to shuffle on his feet, body restless—wanting to move.

It was the blood-pumping adrenaline of a good fight, of a spar that pushed the body to breathless, glorious extremis, of pure physicality.

Nothing in him wanted to stay still for this.

It felt good.

Finally, San Lang pulled his teeth away. Xie Lian thought he could feel every millimeter of the small fangs as they pulled out of him. San Lang did it so carefully, it might even be slow enough that he really could feel it.

Then his lips slid in a sensual kind of kiss, moving along his fevered skin, and the wet muscle of his tongue slid across the twin punctures, bright sparks of tenderness that tickled with the sting of it.

It wasn’t true pain, not to Xie Lian of all people, but the… well, the bite of it, like nails across a cut. Like accidentally touching a fresh bruise. A skittering of nerves flaring alert, signaling to Xie Lian’s brain. Loud, distracting in their brevity, pulling his attention no matter how minor.

Pinpricks of bright, eager sensation, deepening into something that whites out his vision as San Lang closed his mouth around the wound and sucked.

“Nng!” A sharp intake of breath as Xie Lian’s hand tightened reflexively in San Lang’s hair, a harsh counter to the slow, hot pull of his mouth. Oh, oh–!

Xie Lian’s veins ached with it, his entire body clenching rhythmically in time with the slight bob of San Lang’s head, the gentle suck repeated over and over again as blood was laved from the wound and pooled on his tongue, and San Lang swallowed carefully before sucking again.

His lips parted around helpless sound, gasping properly now. He found his fingers echoing the rhythm, following the dance whose steps were coordinated by San Lang’s mouth, by the way he drank—the bright flash of initial pain, dulled to welcome fire as he pulled blood into his mouth, and Xie Lian’s entire body tensed up for the duration, to relax only as the pressure released and San Lang swallowed, his own body moving against San Lang’s in a constant wave of tension-release, tension-release.

Xie Lian found his thoughts growing fuzzy, indistinct around the edges. There was a rush at his cheeks, his temples, his wrists and his chest. He was hyper aware of the places of contact, where San Lang was pressed against him, the line of his body unmistakable, so warm and solid.

He was hot just from the contact and the fire in the room, as if he’d fought a dozen hard-won bouts back to back, working up a sweat as surely as if he’d been pinned down, wrists held to the arena floor, aching and straining to escape the hold, to be released—

But Xie Lian didn’t want to escape this, as restless and confused as his body was. It felt good, so unbelievably good. Lazy pleasure coursed through him, centering from San Lang’s bite, and each pull of his mouth sent the coals raking into embers, into startled, blazing fire. The rhythmic nature only served to build up to some unnamable point, the blaze never quite dying down in the brief respite.

In fact, there was less and less time between the flares of sensation, until it felt like no pause existed—like there was no reprieve from pleasure before that thrilling pressure returned, that deep pull of teeth and lips—

He was steadily burning now, with no need for the billows, an established flame that could only be coaxed hotter and hotter until it could forge the most stubborn steel!

Then, at no signal Xie Lian could determine, the rhythm broke like a sword quenched, water dousing heat at speed; San Lang paused for a long moment before his lips moved again. Cautiously, carefully, he moved tongue against skin, and the next sucking pressure at the wound was far softer, and much slower, his throat continuously working as he swallowed around extremely small sips of blood.

Finally, with a sound like something was hurting him, San Lang jerked his head away, panting and breathing as if he’d run a hundred miles.

“God,” He gasped, trembling. “My god.” He rested his forehead against Xie Lian’s robe, far enough away from the site of his meal that no blood streaked his fine, angular features, now rosy with borrowed life.

Xie Lian tried and failed to contain his own shallow breaths, and recover from the extremis which his body had just been pushed to—glorious, adrenaline-filled action, the kind in which nobody died or was even injured, and he could exult in the thrill of his own flesh.

Gradually, Xie Lian became aware of the dust motes floating softly in the firelight, of the weak light filtering in through stained glass. He took stock of his own body. Firstly, his hand in San Lang’s hair, which he hurriedly unclenched. The vampire was still shaking faintly, so Xie Lian chanced to start petting it in what he hoped was comfort.

Fortunately, it worked! San Lang stilled briefly before leaning into it, seemingly more relaxed where his weight met Xie Lian’s.

Secondly, aftershocks of pleasure sizzled through him, like drops of water on a hot skillet. They rolled through his gut and legs and torso with tingling pulses of excitement. Xie Lian didn’t think this was that kind of situation, at all, but found himself mentally reciting the ethics sutra out of pure reflexive memory.

Hopefully it would help with the blush in his cheeks, and to catch his breath!

After only a few stanzas of recitation, his body felt more under control, less like a heaving wild animal and more like his own. Though– better than it had felt in decades, at least.

Xie Lian brought a hand up to touch his neck wonderingly. There was still no pain, and under his fingers, he determined the twin punctures he’d received were no more than fading pricks, smaller than splinters.

It didn’t even ache!

“It will be fully healed in moments.” San Lang said quietly. Xie Lian startled to hear his voice, low and beset with gravel. He was looking up at Xie Lian, two garnet eyes intent. The vampire moved a thumb over the site, which was pristine and entirely devoid of blood, yet broke out into gooseflesh immediately.

It was damp from saliva, catching cool in the air, which made Xie Lian’s cheeks flare with heat. Ah, wasn’t that kind of…?

He turned his thoughts away forcefully, breathing in harshly through his nose. Well!

He adopted a shaky smile.

“Pray San Lang enjoyed his meal?” He tried. Red eyes widened fractionally, before he tucked his forehead back into Xie Lian’s robe– expression no longer visible.

“Gege.” San Lang pouted. “How will this disciple learn to drink properly without feedback?”

Feedback? Oh!

“San Lang.” Xie Lian couldn’t help but laugh. “You were serious, that you wanted me to say whether it…?” He couldn’t say it!

“Did it feel good, Gege?” San Lang tipped closer, until his nose brushed the opposite side of Xie Lian’s neck. Briefly, the god was overcome with the image of a matching bite there– of doing it all over again.

Grasping wildly for the words he’s kept close his entire life, Xie Lian’s mind screamed: KNOW HONOR, YET KEEP HUMILITY! BE THE VALLEY OF THE UNIVERSE!

He tried and failed to speak. San Lang, of course, waited patiently.

“It didn’t hurt.” Xie Lian settled on, finally. “San Lang had, ah, very good… technique.”

He patted San Lang’s head awkwardly, then rushed to disentangle himself.

“Ah, but surely San Lang has other things to do today!” He cleared his throat, then dusted off his robes. Well, they were more dust than fabric at this point, but who was judging?

Didn’t the sutra say ‘be at one with the dust of the earth!?’

He was succeeding! Terrible as a god, but okay as the wandering cultivator he presented himself as. He’d certainly lived up to the tenet of ‘accepting misfortunate and disgrace’, hadn’t he?

A very humble taoist. Xie Lian smiled at his mysterious benefactor, who watched his fumbling about with an unreadable expression.

Deciding to save his host face, Xie Lian nodded sharply to himself, put on his best smile, and began a quick march in the direction of the exit. Yep, job all done here! Better head out before he overstays his welcome! That was Xie Lian’s motto.

If he doesn’t overstay his welcome, he might even come back one day!

He had made it almost to the front doors of the manor when the scurrying of feet reached him, and San Lang caught his arm. When Xie Lian turned, his pupils were blown in garnet eyes, and he was breathing heavily– strange, for a ghost, but then again he had just run after him!

“Gege, wait!” San Lang said, frantic. “Please, I haven’t asked– have you somewhere to stay in Ghost City?”

As Xie Lian watched, he caught up Xie Lian’s hand less recklessly, drawing it between both of his as though a penitent supplicant at a temple.

“Ah, that is to say–” Red darted up San Lang’s neck and cheeks until they were a matching pair, the god and the ghost in the foyer.

“No.” Xie Lian said, something funny warring in his chest. “I mean, I don’t have anywhere to go. I was planning on leaving before… well, I have terrible luck, you see.”

San Lang looked up at him with wide, wide eyes.

“I’d hate for something terrible to happen to this manor.” Xie Lian continued.

San Lang took a deep breath.

“This one… has very good luck.” He said, wrestling with the words. “There’s more than enough room.”

It took Xie Lian a moment before he realized what was happening. San Lang wanted him to stay. Xie Lian hadn’t been a welcome guest– as opposed to a tolerated one, or a begrudging one– in longer than he could remember. Perhaps even ‘never’– when he was a prince, to whom would he be a ‘guest’?

In his exile, there were always kind people, but few taking it to such an extreme that they’d open their home. Their porch for the night, perhaps; a warm bath and fresh bread, if they were especially kind. But though he was a guest, he was not an honored one; the wandering cultivator who had nothing was not served tea, merely given charity in accordance with the villager’s own karma.

And Xie Lian was not ungrateful.

But the warm hands cradling one of his own, the hopeful eyes beseeching, were irresistible. Though his host was a ghost, he had made no indications of a trap, or any malevolent motive.

In fact, Xie Lian found the person before him to be one of the kindest and most sincere souls he had ever met.

“Does San Lang not need permission to invite guests?” Xie Lian asked, curious. San Lang’s shoulders lost all their tension, relaxing thoroughly.

“Mn.” San Lang said, a small smile playing about his lips. “This one has the authority to extend such invitations.”

“Well, if it’s truly not a bother…”

“Gege could never be a bother.” San Lang said, and his voice was so sincere that Xie Lian had no choice but to believe him.

3. Paradise Manor

Xie Lian woke to a room resplendent with expensive rugs and finely carved furniture, blankets upon blankets on the bed around him, and a fire blazing merrily away.

On the table closest to him, visible through yards of translucent chiffon draping the bed posters, was a bag stuffed full of coin.

For a moment, he boggled at it. Then it occurred to him that he had offered San Lang blood for payment, and San Lang– of course– was not the kind of renege on such an agreement, even if they had foolishly not discussed the terms. Xie Lian approached the bag like a poisonous serpent.

He didn’t even need to count it to know it was too much, far too much! What payment Xie Lian should receive for the donation would not even cover a single night’s stay in a room so fine, much less the meal he’d received the day prior, so really he was owed nothing at all! Equal, their ledgers were equal!

If anything, the scales were tipped far too heavily in Xie Lian’s favor! Even without accepting a cent of money! So Xie Lian picked it up fully with the intention of handing it back to its master, words of chastisement on his tongue! He would not be swayed!

… He got lost.

Xie Lian had the brilliant idea to hide it in a side table in one hallway, except he got stuck, and when he finally extracted himself he fell flat on his back and blinked up at the ornate ceiling.

“Gege?” San Lang’s face floated into his vision, naturally upside down at this angle. His dark bangs fell forward, reaching down.

“Ah, San Lang.” Xie Lian said, as though it was perfectly normal to be on the ground. Xie Lian had lost so much face over the years, this is nothing. “Fancy meeting you here.”

San Lang’s lips twitched, fighting a grin.

“Gege, I live here.” His eyes were maple today, cheeks dimpled like round apples. “Should this one lie next to you and contemplate life?”

“No, no. I’m getting up.” Xie Lian made no move to do so. Laying on the floor was strangely appealing. It had been a long time since he was able to lounge around in a house. The closest he’d come over the years was the occasional cheap inn, and the innkeep tended to be concerned if you laid face down on the floor, however therapeutic.

“Here.” San Lang offered a hand, thin-fingered and pale. Xie Lian stared at his fine bone structure for a moment before taking it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet smoothly.

He came to his feet awfully close to San Lang, and was incredibly aware of the soft, dry hand in his– of his free hand coming up instinctually and hovering over San Lang’s chest without quite touching, of looking up in a moment of surprise to find them so close together.

Xie Lian should move; he shouldn’t hesitate at all, it should be a seamless motion. He was helped up, he found himself close, he disentangled with a little laugh, removing himself from someone else’s personal space at once.

Instead, he caught San lang’s eyes and time stilled around him, a young face looking down at him with–

He couldn’t name it. But he’d pulled Xie Lian to his feet, and he didn’t seem to mind the proximity at all, a flicker of surprise but not unhappiness– not disgust or bother. He looked at Xie Lian like…

Maple eyes watched him without any worry at all, and Xie Lian’s golden ones stared back without any decorum at all, searching. For what, he didn’t know, but he followed red to the edge of San Lang’s iris, to the whites of his eyes, the dark masculine kohl of his lashes.

As if he couldn’t help himself, he looked further– attention catching on the hint of widow’s peak, the silky dark hair that should be impossible for a ghost, and then the strong ridge of his nose, the soft round curve of his cheeks, and his gently parted lips–

Xie Lian tried to tear his gaze away. He was distressingly unable. Instead, where decorum fails, he invites curiosity in, leaning into the wandering eyes. San Lang’s jaw was strong, unmarred– one could trace the line of it. His ears were faintly pointed, pierced at the lobes.

His neck was long, straight, interrupted by the Adam’s apple and the bold metal of his jewelry– gold and ruby today, to complement the bright statement of his robes. They were shameless enough that Xie Lian really couldn’t look at them, once he realized the color scheme, and his eyes snapped back up to warm red with a gasp.

“Gege.” The parted lips said, corner tipping into a smile.

“San Lang.” Xie Lian said back, helpless with it. He squeezed the hand holding his and San Lang’s breath caught, eyes widening slightly.

San Lang brought up the hand still holding Xie Lian’s, and for the first time Xie Lian noticed a red string tied to his middle finger. Looking at it would mean seeing the bright flare of his sleeves, though, so he obviously couldn’t look further!

He kept his eyes on his own hands, trying not to focus on the fingers that clasped it, as San Lang’s other hand came up as well– both of his framing the one of Xie Lian’s own, and tugging it up to San Lang’s mouth.

Xie Lian could feel his steady breath, the warmth of his exhale.

Slowly, eyes slipping shut, San Lang pressed the barest brush of lips to Xie Lian’s knuckles.

His eyes opened, the red-orange of fallen leaves. San Lang’s head tilted to the side, the beginnings of a small smile on his lips.

“Let’s have breakfast, Gege.” San Lang said, his hands warm around Xie Lian’s single one. He hadn’t moved back from their unexpected proximity, either, nor stumbled when Xie Lian’s feet landed so clumsily between his.

Xie Lian didn’t once think about blood, or the last time they were so close; he forgot about their arrangement entirely, and wasn’t surprised when San Lang drops one hand– one, but not the other, which fell carefully and smoothly down with Xie Lian’s, until his fingers were loosely holding on, and their clasped hands rest between them– and lead him again through the manor’s ever-changing halls, to a spread of breakfast laid out like a king’s.

It should have occurred to him, that by ‘breakfast’ San Lang might have wanted to drink– from Xie Lian– and that their closeness in his stumbling rise to his feet mirrored their last– his last–

The way he’d fed San Lang, voice dark and hungry and playful, but… It didn’t. He forgot about vampires entirely until San Lang, after long moments watching Xie Lian eat, deigned to accept a full goblet from a half-there wisp of an invisible servant.

He kept looking at Xie Lian as he drank in small sips, the wine inside dying his lips red. They’d been stained from Xie Lian’s blood, too, though he had barely caught a glimpse before he’d fled.

Xie Lian wasn’t running, now. He wondered if he could feed his host again, so soon, and how he could manage it without a bag of gold appearing in his room.

Well! It was hardly his room, was it? And speaking of, shouldn’t Xie Lian be on his way? He could hardly continue to impose on his really-too-generous hospitality forever!!!

What Xie Lian didn’t know, however, was that trying to make his leave based on any of the usual claims was futile. San Lang had a counter for every polite fiction, every excuse that people used to walk out the door.

In fact, the moment Xie Lian brought it up, it became a fight for his life!

They entered into a battle of wits not unlike two very fat uncles, shamelessly eyeing the last meat cutlet on the wedding buffet plate, chopsticks poised and ready to strike first. But when the faster uncle reaches out, his strike is blocked! Again and again they exchange blows, fighting for the last juicy morsel, parrying blows and clashing with the speed of two martial gods exchanging strikes.

It’s verbal, of course, but for a moment Xie Lian– and his fantastic stubborn streak that has outlasted empires– was breathless with the faintest tease of what San Lang might look like with a sword in his hand, eyes smoldering like coals and hair in sweaty disarray. What’d he’d look like in a proper spar.

He wanted it.

And, it should be said, Xie Lian didn’t actually want the morsel he was fighting for. In this case, the last juicy cutlet was– Whether or not Xie Lian stays at Paradise Manor!? For another night? For as long as he wants!?

Breakfast itself was lovely, a slightly more refined affair from the previous day– but only slightly– and perfectly calm. San Lang lounged across from him, seemingly content not to partake, and– well, he’d already had a meal, hadn’t he? It’s just that the meal was Xie Lian.

His thoughts kept drifting back to the knowledge like a forbidden scroll, and Xie Lian shoved another bite of food into his mouth to distract himself. He couldn’t think about it if he was focused on the amazing flavors!

They talk, but not about anything important. San Lang explained the origin or the cooking method of a food Xie Lian was interested in, Xie Lian provided the ample praise due for such an incredible meal, and things were good! Wonderful, even! Xie Lian soaked up the good company, knowing it was soon to come to an end, as all good things must.

Eventually, he was once more stuffed to the gills, and when he could eat no more, not even the slow nibbling of a bun he’d been doing for the last several minutes to prolong the meal, he stood from the table and made to leave.

That’s when the battle began. The priceless cutlet glinted between them, hanging in the balance!

Xie Lian said, “I should really be going now.”

San Lang stood as well, the gold on his sleeves moving like painted lanterns, rich against the bold red, posture elegant– the picture of a perfect host.

“Why not stay?”

The question caught Xie Lian completely off guard. Hasn’t he already stayed longer than he ever planned, enjoying San Lang’s company and platter after platter of fruit placed into his hands late into the evening? Hasn’t he slept in a bed far too fine for him, and woke up to an offering of gold?

“I couldn’t possibly.” He said, dusting off his robes. A fine shimmer of dirt from the path scattered into the floor and he grimaced. Perhaps, he should stay just to steal the sheets he slept on, and ferry them off to be laundered!

He’d painstakingly placed his outer layers on the ground on the furniture he’d thought least likely to stain (a lavish wooden writing desk), and slept only in his white inner robes, yet even those were in a state of disarray, and had surely left their mark in the sheets.

If San Lang wanted him to stay to clean up what he ruined, that’d be one thing!

“I’ve got plenty of room.” San Lang countered, charming and confident. He slid his hands behind his back. Today he was dressed as the richest young lord in any kingdom, as lavish as if– Xie Lian had to look away every time his eyes dipped his gold collar– it was the exact day of his wedding.

Vivid, red fabric swept him up in extensive layers, pale gold embroidering his collar, sleeve-cuffs and torso. He’d seen San Lang in red before, but mixing it with this much gold… It wasn’t just a small amount of the rich embroidery, and wasn’t anything Xie Lian could ignore, try as he might.

The color threaded through his chest and shoulders with beautiful designs. It rose in elegant phoenixes, teased down in beaded tassels, and loudly bordered the bronze leaves that brushed against countless flowers in all dawn’s colors: red, white, and pink, repeated over and over again throughout the garment.

Xie Lian, once termed Flower-Crowned, and depicted with every fresh bud of spring, kept feeling his eyes wander along the petals and stems. Nobody knew of that old association; nobody would understand the strange sense of possession such a display implied.

Xie Lian himself did not even understand it.

He was, however, once a martial god– and though words of warfare were the arena of his civil counterparts, he could make a good showing. He wouldn’t go down without a fight!

“Nobody likes a guest who overstays their welcome.” Xie Lian said, tearing his eyes away from the ornate outfit. San Lang made it so easy to spar like this. Like stepping into familiar steps of a dance he’d never learned before.

San Lang, the third of his family, had much more practice with his chopstick thievery than Xie Lian. He fought dirty for the morsel.

He brought a mother-in-law to a newlywed fight!

“It’s lonely here.” He countered, applying to Xie Lian’s sense of propriety. “I’d like for Gege to stay, if he’s willing.”

He drew the finger of one hand idly around the rim of his empty glass, the finest sheen of red staining its bowl.

Then looked up.

“Gege can leave whenever he likes, but not on my account. I’m enjoying his company very much.” A small smile curving his lips, as though secretive– or just shy. His finger left the glass and Xie Lian tracked it all the way to the wrist, with brilliant gold contrasting so fetchingly against pale skin.

And what was Xie Lian supposed to say to that, huh!? It would be the height of rudeness to refuse, and more and more Xie Lian was admitting it: he didn’t want to leave. The same as when the offer of blood first crossed San Lang’s lips, however inadvertent, he’d latched onto the chance to spend more time in his presence.

Of course he stayed.

San Lang was gracious in his victory. Though his chopsticks were fast and the morsel eaten greedily, never giving Xie Lian the chance to recover from his defeat and make another pass, he did not gloat or tease. Instead, he looked very pleased with himself.

As though, instead of the uncle who got the last piece of meat at the wedding, he was the farmcat who snuck in while everyone was distracted, and helped himself to a leftover bowl of cream.

“San Lang.” Xie Lian said, quietly, struggling to articulate the reality that threatens to slide in despite how playful his host was being. “You want me to, but…Won’t someone else get… Is it really okay for me to stay in this lavish manor, sleep in the grand room, and eat all this food?”

“It is.”

And Xie Lian wanted so badly to ask how San Lang could offer this all so freely– but wasn’t that too much like looking a gift horse in the mouth? He realized he was quite literally looking at San Lang’s mouth, once again, and raised his eyes.

San Lang’s were once more waiting for him, maple transmuted to mulberry in the light of the torches. His eyes willed Xie Lian to believe him, that he was sincere, that it really was that easy.

“San Lang must be someone very important.” Xie Lian said helplessly.

“What makes you say that?” Simple curiosity colored his tone like the wine colored his lips.

Xie Lian could count on his fingers; he had quite the list by this point! But that too would spoil the game, so he merely smiled.

“Ah, no matter.” He said, waving his hand at the wrist like a fan, as though to dismiss the evidence weighing heavy around them. The food, the careless ease with which he strides through the manor, the offering of a princely room for Xie Lian to lay his head at night as easily as a farmer offers a rough patch of hay in his barn–

(–Easier, even! Xie Lian has met many, many suspicious farmers who are loath to let a stray cultivator sleep so close to their livelihood, and nevermind that Xie Lian wouldn’t hurt a fly if he could avoid it, much less a sheep or a goat–)

–the cheques his host writes as though he can cash them all.

Pointing any of that out really would be inviting misfortune, popping this delicate soap bubble of a good thing. Xie Lian knew anything truly nice would fall through his fingers like so many grains of sand.

But San Lang didn’t look away, attention avid, so Xie Lian felt his breath catch, and spoke anyway, like a spirit sliding through a single smudged character in a binding circle.

“San Lang probably has a high rank, to speak with such authority. That’s all.” Xie Lian demurred. “Do you have duties to attend to?”

“A few.” San Lang waved a hand, dismissive.

“What will San Lang be doing with his morning, then?” Xie Lian asked. “Tasks for your Lord Hua Cheng?”

Curious, that he hadn’t seen the lord of the manor in all the time he’d been here. Not too strange, though– the place is huge, and noblemen are notoriously either incredibly busy in their territory, or secluded in their residence, with little in between.

(Xie Lian couldn’t talk, of course. He himself had been absent from his palace for three-hundred odd years, after all. Ah, but that’s for different circumstances entirely.)

“Whatever Gege would like to do with his morning.” San Lang answered immediately, not even pausing to consider it.

It was so unexpected Xie Lian laughed before he could think to stifle it.

“San Lang.” He protested, delighted at the cheek and unable to hide it. “Be serious, please.”

The set of the ghost’s mouth was stubborn even as he smiled beautifully.

“This one is always serious, Gege.” He said, eyes glittering like smooth river rocks.

“Won’t your lord need you?” Xie Lian countered, moving things along. San Long didn’t protest his playfulness being thwarted, but he did stack several more dumplings onto Xie Lian’s plate, chopsticks flashing mahogany in the ghost light, cast cheerfully from sconces lighting the room.

Those eyes flicker in the same light, watching him, holding his gaze for a long moment.

“My lord is generous.” San Lang demurred almost absently, ducking his chin with the quiet words, then paused where Xie Lian had fully expected him to continue. His lithe fingers curled around the stem of his goblet and he took a demure sip instead.

It piqued his curiosity.

So mysterious, this Hua Cheng.

A thought occurs to him then. Ah, but surely someone so high-placed has access to many…. Ahem… but then again, San Lang clearly held incredible rank in the lord’s household, and he hadn’t had… That is to say…

“Does Hua Cheng need a blood donor?” Xie Lian blurted out.

San Lang promptly choked on his wine, setting the goblet down forcefully; his free hand came up to cover his mouth even as the cough spilled blood over his lips.

They were already ruby. They were already–

The sight of a single red drop sliding down San Lang’s chin was impossibly arresting.

Xie Lian couldn’t look away. During their… feeding… San Lang had been so, so very careful to not waste a single drop of blood. It hadn’t smeared on his mouth, or– if it had– he’d made sure to lick it away before pulling back from Xie Lian’s nape.

Seeing him with blood on his chin now– with the red of his robes– it was. Heat rose in Xie Lian. He couldn’t look away. He wanted to feed San Lang again right now.

The brief outrage he’d first felt when San Lang accepted the drink– as though he were still thirsty, as though he hadn’t taken enough from Xie Lian— and yet had asked for his sores instead of more right from the fresh source!– returned with a flare.

It was a petty, childish feeling he thought he’d left behind in Xian Le; the urge to kick his feet and scowl about not getting his way. It startled him, to feel it now.

Of course, San Lang could drink his usual wine. Of course he wouldn’t switch to solely sipping from Xie Lian’s veins when he got… thirsty. It was ridiculous to expect something like that!

Yet, Xie Lian wanted it. Wanted the absurd scenario of San Lang waying against him, lips pursed dramatically, eyes bright– “Gege, I’m so hungry.”

Xie Lian flushed and tore his eyes away.

Of all the inane, foolish–!

He patted San Lang’s back even as the other stopped his minor coughing fit, finally drawing himself upright with a ragged inhale, thumbing away the red on his chin and– to Xie Lian’s complete shock– pressing it against his own lips.

It parted them, thumb catching against San Lang’s lush bottom lip. The motion was quick, thoughtless. Over in an instant.

Xie Lian had two simultaneous thoughts.

The first, wordless consideration; a vision spilling out like a dream:

His own thumb rising to swipe the blood off, instead– pressing it just as unthinkingly to San Lang’s lips, soft against skin, a hint of tongue and teeth; eyes bright as he watched, half-lidded; as Xie Lian pushed his thumb, now clean of blood, yet further in; and San Lang’s mouth dropped open to accommodate, a soft moan on his tongue that Xie Lian could feel.

The second thought, on the heels of the first, was desperate chanting: The space between heaven and Earth is like a bellows!! The shape changes but not the form!! The more it moves, the more it yields!! More words count less!! HOLD FAST TO THE CENTER!

The chanting of the ethics sutra grew louder and more frantic the less it worked, until Xie Lian’s internal voice was near hysterical with it.

Unfortunately, Xie Lian had recited the ethics sutra every bit of the 8,888 times his communication array password ‘called for’, and he was dismayed to find it barely captured his attention at this point. It certainly didn’t distract him from the thumb now leaving San Lang’s mouth.

It’s San Lang’s own thumb, of course, though the Xie Lian in his vision overlapped reality for a long, burning moment, hand pulling back in perfect time as the ghost’s, and for that long, burning moment, Xie Lian’s real hand tingled as if dumped in a river of ice.

Xie Lian shivered. He jerked his gaze up.

“No, Gege.” San Lang finally answered, sounding dazed as he met Xie Lian’s eyes. How long has he been looking, while Xie Lian stared at his mouth and thought indecent things!?

“Hmm?” Xie Lian said, deceptively casual as his brain tried to– recalibrate. Cope. Something.

Maybe, his brain told him wildly, If we recite the sutra twice as fast and three times as forcefully, it will work.

San Lang straightened with a little smile, a tad self-recriminating for his slip-up.

“Hua Cheng doesn’t need a donor.” San Lang said, leaning in slightly. “He’s just recently acquired an excellent one, in fact.”

His elbows found purchase on the table as he closed the distance between them.

“This San Lang will have to keep Gege all to himself.” He murmured, eyes half-mast, a picture stunningly close to Xie Lian’s brief– hallucination.

The sage stays behind, thus he is ahead!!! He is detached, thus at one with all!! Through selfless action, he attains fulfillment!!

He cast his mind out for a different train of thought– YIELD AND REMAIN WHOLE! BEND AND REMAIN STRAIGHT! BE LOW AND BECOME FILLED— and managed, only slightly breathless: “What does he look like?”

“Hm?” San Lang’s palm came back to rest under his chin. He was still– close. Leaning forward so that Xie Lian could count his individual lashes if he were so inclined.

He considered it– he found himself distressingly prone to such flights of fancy around this person– but his thoughts were scattered like air, and he couldn’t concentrate. His thoughts were like foil palaces crushed, their walls knocked down, gilded sheets lost in the wind, and for once he didn’t even mind that it fell.

“Hua Cheng.” He said, slightly desperate– hopping and jumping to catch enough scattered foil sheets of thought to form a coherent sentence. It didn’t help that San Lang’s eyes widened at the name, his lips parting softly. Xie Lian rushed through the question out of self-defense: “What does he look like!?”

His heart sprinted like a runaway stallion. He nearly gasped the words, red like the Miao Flower Mountain Festival across his cheeks.

San Lang leaned even closer, skin glowing rosy, lips parted pink on a breathtaking smile. Golden foil fell slowly around them, forgotten.

“How do you want him to look?”

Xie Lian couldn’t breathe. He stared, absolutely transfixed.

Eventually, San Lang eased back with something rueful on his lips. He settled his hands in his lap, pale against the ruby and gold.

“Hua Cheng is a shapeshifter, Gege. It’s said that nobody knows his true form, since he always appears differently.”

“Oh.” Xie Lian didn’t know why he was disappointed. If his servant dresses so finely, how must the lord look? Surely a vision in rich color and accouterments.

“Then, nobody knows what he looks like?” Xie Lian mused. He sighed. “How unfortunate. He must have his reasons, I suppose.”

“Long black hair, pale white skin.” San Lang offered abruptly. “Those are pretty consistent.”

“Ah, San Lang!” Xie Lian laughed. “That could apply to almost anyone.”

San Lang pouted at him.

“Gege.” He protested. “I wasn’t finished. Hua Cheng often wears red; it’s his signature color, and they recognize him by it.”

“And he does live here?” For again, Xie Lian had not seen hide nor hair of the city lord.

“I built him a room.” San Lang said flippantly. “He doesn’t always use it, though.”

“You must have known him a long time.” Xie Lian marveled.

“Yes, you could say that.” San Lang dimpled at him.

“Wait, San Lang, you built this place!?” Xie Lian exclaimed. Such a fantastical claim!

Unexpectedly, the ghost snorted.

“Ah, sorry Gege. It’s just– I built so much of Ghost City. It was hardly anything when I started.”

Forget high-ranking, San Lang had practically been around since the beginning of Ghost City! No wonder he was so confident.

“Would Gege like a tour?” San Lang pressed, like a shark sensing blood in the water. Xie Lian laughed awkwardly. Such an important person, showing him around?

“Of the Manor or of the city?”

“Gege can have both. The Manor for now, though.” San Lang stood fluidly, offering a hand. It was pale white, not unusual for ghosts. Xie Lian found himself taking it before he’d even considered otherwise, drawn as if by some unknown force.

San Lang curled fingers around Xie Lian’s palm gently, tugging him to his feet. For a moment, it was a mirror of earlier in the morning– two souls held close for several slow heartbeats, before stepping away.

—

“What’s the history of this place?”

“I needed somewhere to sleep, and thought I might like to have room for one such as Gege, should someone so radiant deign lower themselves to my company.”

“Ah, San Lang, I’m nothing special! I’d be content with a mat on the floor. In fact, more often than not, I don’t even have that.”

“Gege.” He complained, mournful. “Don’t tell me that, I may not let you leave. Here, you have to put up with me, but at least you have your own bed.”

“It’s no trial to enjoy San Lang’s good company,” Xie Lian insisted. “This is the best time I’ve had in… I can’t even remember.”

He marveled at time past. Belly full, warm bed in a stately room, exquisite manor he has the run of? Although he waved a hand to dismiss San Lang’s exaggeration, the words were really true.

He hasn’t had such accommodations since Xian Le, or perhaps his first palace in heaven, which he’d rarely seen.

No, even then, Xie Lian lacked good conversation and company. Heaven was cutthroat, and nobody would really speak to him when he was a prince. Not as a friend.

So, really this was the best Xie Lian had ever had it, and he told San Lang so, in a tone he hoped conveyed honest praise.

“Good.” San Lang said simply. “Then my efforts to build it have payed off exactly as intended. You’ve done me a great favor in achieving such a longstanding goal of mine. Pray Gege stay here as long as he likes, and make this drafty old house worth living in.”

Surely he was taking things too far! It almost sounded like he wanted Xie Lian to stay forever.

“Ah, if only I could.” Xie Lian laughed ruefully. “I’ve got the devil’s own luck. The place would burn down around us if I even dared to stay a week.”

“This one did notice the cursed shackle.” San Lang said, after a moment. Xie Lian’s heart leapt into his throat. He looked as though he were going to continue, but shook his head simply, adorning a small smile.

“San Lang has notoriously good luck.” He said instead. “Even stronger than Gege’s cursed misfortune, I’d wager.”

“San Lang, you can’t bet your whole house on that.” Xie Lian protested. This man!

“They’re just walls.” San Lang said quietly, in a moment of bald emotion. He gestured around. “It’s just a place. It can be rebuilt.”

“Still, what a gamble!” Xie Lian’s pulse was racing. He laughed awkwardly, shook his head. “I’m not worth that.”

“Gege is worth that and so much more.” San Lang corrected, eyes narrowing slightly. His expression relaxed, and he grinned, boyish. “Besides, gambling is a hobby of mine. Gege should see the Gambling Hall of Ghost City. It’s a major attraction.”

“A gambling hall?” Xie Lian asked. “Is that the big building with the illegible signs?”

“Ouch.” San Lang put his hand over his heart. The shape he wore was so young and carefree, Xie Lian began to suspect it wasn’t his true form. “Gege wounds me.”

“Oh, did you make those signs?” San Lang sure got around Ghost City! He had a hand in every pot, it seemed. “I just meant… they’re very clever. It’s a unique style.”

“You can say they’re bad, Gege.” San Lang did not look offended. He leaned forward as if to goad Xie Lian into a proper series of insults.

Xie Lian would not be tempted, however.

“I like them.” He said stubbornly. “Anyone can make perfect calligraphy with enough practice. Not just anyone can infuse so much character and fun into a sign.”

San Lang blinked at him, head tilting. A small smile crept onto his lips.

“Alright, Gege.” He finally said. “If you say so.”

“I do say so. And I’m the guest, right?” Xie Lian did not have anything to win, here, but he got the same sense from earlier– the same playful click of chopsticks, trying to steal a dessert this time, perhaps.

Or maybe the playful swipe of the couple at the wedding, feeding each other with teasing bites that threatened to miss the mouth they aimed for!

The thought was too much for Xie Lian, who looked away with an awkward laugh. It was the wedding robes, he was sure. How anybody could have such a thick face wearing such raiments in–!!

But of course it was his own home, and San Lang could wear whatever he liked. In fact, it was endearing– his preference for brightly colored robes.

“Gege is the guest.” San Lang confirmed, a trace of smugness shining through. “But this San Lang has been remiss in his duties as a host, I’m afraid. Dragging you all through this dusty house without offering you a bath, or a change of clothes. The tour can wait. Shall we?”

“San Lang!” Xie Lian sputtered, smothering laughter, as he was ushered through a door that surely hadn’t been there a moment ago. “I don’t need–”

Well.

Xie Lian was many things, but he tried not to be a liar! Aha-ha. He most certainly did need a bath, and to say otherwise… well, San Lang was already being a very good host indeed to allow Xie Lian to besmirch his fine furniture.

He coughed into his hand, trying to thicken his expression.

Truthfully, a bath sounded nice.

“I can wash these as soon as I’m done, and return the lended robes.” He assured San Lang, whose expression cycled briefly through a few expressions.

“Ah, no need.” San Lang said. “I happen to have multiple sets of spare robes in Gege’s exact size. They were at risk of moths in this drafty old place, surely Gege wouldn’t mind airing them out? If he likes any, they will of course be Gege’s.”

“Far too generous!” Xie Lian protested as he was led down a curiously warm corridor. “Ah, San Lang– you forget. I know two things that make what you just said quite unlikely.”

“Oh? Pray Gege correct this humble one’s mistakes.” San Lang looked back so earnestly, Xie Lian almost felt bad calling him on his misdirection.

“Firstly, San Lang himself told me he can change his shape. Surely the robes would fit him then?”

“An understandable conclusion.” San Lang said, nodding. “However, Gege must understand– these robes were not tailored for me, but for someone much closer to Gege’s measurements. In fact, I’d wager they’d fit you quite well.”

“And San Lang likes gambling.” Xie Lian recalled. “Well, there’s still the second matter. You forget– I’ve seen San Lang’s spiritual butterflies. What drab moth could bear to exist in the same place as something so beautiful? Even the most handsome moth would flee in shame.”

They passed by a torch lit with ghostlight, just a few shades too close to pink, and Xie Lian was gifted by the sight of San Lang’s jaw dropping open.

A rush of color pooled ruddy at his cheeks, visible for only a moment. Ghosts didn’t have blood; it was Xie Lian’s.

The thought was fantastically distracting.

“Gege.” San Lang finally said, after working his mouth with no sound for several seconds. “Gege thinks they’re beautiful?”

“Mn.” Xie Lian’s ears touched pink, but he nodded.

A sweep of dark hair, flashing in front of the torchlight. San Lang swept in front of him and pulled open a heavy-handed door.

Past him, steam wafted out, warm enough to lift the hem of Xie Lian’s robes.

“Di– Gege has the bath to himself, of course.” San Lang said quietly. “This one will go get clean robes for him to change into.”

Xie Lian had the strangest urge to lean into his space. He remembered the patting of yesterday, the physical reassurance. His hand hovered in the space between them for a moment before disappearing into his– admittedly filthy– sleeve.

San Lang’s eyes tracked the motion, hooded by shadow in the doorway. He nodded.

“Gege can leave his old robes to the side. A servant will collect them later.”

“They need not wait on me.” Xie Lian said, tongue clumsy in his mouth. He could not enter the room without passing San Lang. He could not step closer to San Lang without passing through the doorway.

San Lang reached out, with deliberate slowness, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Xie Lian’s ear. He looked as if he wanted to speak, but thought better of it.

“Perhaps some more light.” San Lang said abruptly, turning just a little into the room. Xie Lian followed, aware of how it put them side by side.

“What–?” He started to ask, eyeing the torches on the wall, and then his eyes caught on the large pool taking up the majority of the room. Stone benches rose out of it, little dips and divots along the edge that had functions Xie Lian could scarcely imagine, and most miraculously of all, steamed curled around the surface of the clear water.

It was hot. Hot enough that the surface tinged white from the steam, obscuring his vision when he tried to ascertain how deep a bath it really was.

Shadows clung to the corners and there were no windows in a bathing chamber, of course. The only light was the flickering purple torches, aligned along the wall in even intervals.

At least, until San Lang held out a hand, and silver butterflies emerged as one across the room, wings dipping low in the curling steam, as bright as stars reflected in the surface of a black lake.

“Since Gege likes them.” San Lang said.

Xie Lian could only stare at the sight before him, like a painter’s vision come to life. Like a fairy tale scene, from a children’s story. In Xie Lian’s experience, hot springs held vicious fire spirits wanting to cook and eat him, and dark tranquil lakes reflecting the night sky held the same that wanted to drown and eat him.

In Paradise Manor, and with San Lang’s butterflies there to welcome him, he could only feel safe. It was so foreign a sensation he barely had time to recognize it, and by then he was already hurriedly disrobing, tossing his outer garment onto the bench by the wall and reaching for the next.

“Gege!” San Lang exclaimed, turning sharply around with a gasp. He covered his eyes with a fine-boned hand, for good measure. “I haven’t even shut the door yet.” He finally said, laughing.

“Ah, sorry, sorry, I just– it looks so inviting!” Still undressing, Xie Lian reached up and pulled out the raggedy tie holding his hair up. He let Ruoye slither discreetly off his wrist.

“I– will leave to get your robes. Very quickly. Pray Gege allow this one to explain the soaps?”

“If you like.” Xie Lian said with amusement. He stepped one naked toe into the edge of the water, and watched a butterfly wander over to him, one silver flower among a meadow of them, drenched in moonlight.

“In the interest of full disclosure.” San Lang sounded choked. “This one can choose to see through their eyes– but of course has refrained.”

News to Xie Lian, but– well!

“I trust you.” He said simply. He slid his foot in, down to the ankle and shivered as the godly heat immediately seeped into his skin, the dry bottom of his foot crying out in relief, the curved line of the arch tingling with it.

“Gege will…” A harsh breath, an inhale. San Lang muttered something, then exhaled noisily. “Soap here, oils there. Gege can, of course, feel free to use every drop.”

“I don’t think I’m that filthy.” Xie Lian sat down on the lip of the pool, lowering both calves into the perfectly hot water, amusement lacing his tone. He tipped his head back and sighed as pure heat uncoiled decades of clenched muscle.

Close, but not quite to that level. He very purposefully did not watch the grime slide off into the water. Well. He’d be sure to leave ample amounts in each container, at least.

“Gege isn’t–” San Lang shut his mouth with a little click, spun away, and took a few steps towards the door. He paused with his hand on the frame as Xie Lian’s soft laughter floated after him, carried by the wafts of steamed air.

“This one will return with fresh robes.” San Lang repeated, voice unreadable. His hand tightened on the door for a long moment before he left.

Xie Lian slipped into the bath fully until his smile was submerged.

 

4. A flower by any other name

The last time Xie Lian had a hot bath, it was in a mountain spring, and the giant centipede spirit claiming the spring as territory took great exception.

Xie Lian had been lucky to escape with his dignity intact, just managing to grab up his outer robe as he fled down the unforgiving slope. He’d been picking twigs and dirt out of his hair for days, far dirtier than when he’d went into the hot spring.

The robes Hua Cheng brought him, silently coming and going when Xie Lian’s eyes were closed, are hell and gone from the scratchy linen he was used to.

For one, they were clean. That was already a vast improvement. Few things were as profoundly unpleasant as pulling dusty robes over freshly-washed, wet skin.

Xie Lian opened his eyes, after soaking for a time, to find the neat square of their resting on the lip of the pool. San Lang had not disturbed him, not even with soft steps along the stone, and Xie Lian, despite the preternaturally heated bath–that hadn’t cooled at all– and the luxury of soaps and oils, couldn’t help but be disappointed.

The heat had seeped so deep into him that he felt cooked throughout, like a dumpling in hot broth. He was relaxed all over. Even Ruoye had been seized and scrubbed until it was spring shining white.

He was so warm and so clean and so… comfortable, knowing there seemed to be no hurry, and no spirit waiting to eat him, that it was not even hard to stand and exit the bath.

Xie Lian cannot remember the last time it was.. easy to do something. No pep talk required, no carefully pruning his thoughts to the positive, no quiet mourning as he has to give something up.

But he stood, before he had even really considered it, and he’d had his fill of the bath, and was ready to get out. That simple. Xie Lian looked at his own naked arms like a stranger’s, turning them to and fro.

Water sluiced down his shoulders, torso, and thighs. It was still clean, despite the literal years of filth he washed off. What lovely magic.

Ruoye wound about his chest and upper arms, lines of stark white against the deep tan of his skin. He was still built like a swordsman, even as lean times had eaten away at the places where muscle used to swell.

A human of his stature would be skin and bones, but immortality had left him a healthy– if thin– appearance, despite that routine hunger, and his skin unmarred. He ran a hand over the soft, pristine skin of his sternum, which by all rights should be inches of twisted, ropey scar tissue. His back and arms should be a tapestry recording hundreds of sword strikes, lashes, and every type of human cruelty.

But Xie Lian had a young, healthy body, now freshly clean, and his belly was full of good food, and the stress of eternal life had temporarily fled from his shoulders.

He was… relaxed.

One of the wraith butterthes drifted over, crossing in front of him to land on top of a soft, fluffy, towel, folded next to the robes.

There was a large, gilt bowl, its surface curling with wisps of steam. Xie Lian’s lips parted softly.

He took up the bowl and held it above his lead, letting hot winter cascade over, muscle and shin alike. It seemed to flow forever,

When he lowered it to take up the towel, he noted at once that there were actually two for him there, and that both were as warm as if they’d just come from in front of a fire.

They felt… beyond luxurious on his damp skin, slightly chilled from the difference between the bath and the air.

Xie Lian used them both as intended, one for the upper body, one for the lower.

His hands carry the cadence of a long forgotten ritual, adopting a care he hadn’t ever used… on himself. It spoke of ceremonial cleansing, of the reverent touch he once received from his attendants.

In the quiet dark of the bathing chamber, lit only by silver butterfly wings, the ghosts of Xian Le were so present, Xie Lian could hardly breathe around the weight of them.

The robes were as soft as starlight on the water, whiter them Ruoye and delicate enough to cost a fortune despite their relatively simple cut. Xie Lian, used to undyed linen, spent several long moments running his hands over the cloth.

The inner robe was silver and silky; the outer pristine as freshly fallen show embroidery cuts through the sleeves and collar matching them as a set.

Xie Lian traced subtle designs in the fabric.

On the breast, right over his heart, a perfect replica of a wraith butterfly sat, immortalized in silver thread.

The silk sliding against his skin as he dons them was bone-deep familiar, like stepping into a well-worn pair of slippers, like sliding into your childhood bed.

He was so caught up in the past that he turned without thinking, looking for the tea and light meal that accompanied the end of a formal bath.

There was a table in the corner.

Xie Liun stilled, inanimate as one of his old statues, all broken to pieces and buried in the ruins of Xian Le.

There was a table in the corner, and on it was a fine silver tray, and a finer silver butterfly, wings fluttering leisurely in and out, as though inviting him over. As though proud of itself.

Xie Lian stepped over on silent feet, hands cupping the warm, already-poured tea. It was a subtle jasmine bend. The delicate pink cakes were sweet on his tongue.

Xie Lian felt unmoored, a white-clad ghost floating through the room, the sound of his breath echoing over still water; like a stiff breeze would cast him away entirely.

Next to the door were fresh new boots, not unlike his old ones in style. Inside, they were lined with impossibly soft white fur– rabbit, perhaps, or something similar.

Pulling them on makes Xie Lian feel more grounded, at least– even if his steps in them were akin to walking on clouds.

When he left the bathing chamber, the quiet went with him. So do a few butterflies. Though the torches cast plenty of light, three of them form an advance guard, guiding him like will o’ wisps through a ghost-story castle.

Fanciful. He was being very silly, even as his breath was heavy in his chest, as if the palace was a fantastic illusion. It didn’t feel real.

A fourth butterfly came into Xie Lian’s field of vision, crossing over his shoulder from behind. He held out a hand thoughtlessly and before he could pull it back, it perched there without hesitation.

The guard ahead hesitated, flight pattern rippling. The butterfly on his hand radiated triumph.

“Oh, they’re jealous.” Xie Lian realized, shaking his head in disbelief. “And aren’t you smug.”

He addressed the one on his hand, but it was just as shameless as its master, almost preening as it slowly opened and closed the gossamer fans of its wings. Showing off for him.

“Yes, yes. You’re very beautiful.” He allowed, and it tapped its forelands– like strands of woven light– against his palm in what Xie Lian realized was pleasure at the attention.

He raised his hand to eye level.

“And where is your master, hmmm?”

He half expected San Lang to melt out of the shadows, “Right here, Gege” on his petal-soft lips, but the shadows of the hall were conspicuously absent his host.

The butterfly walked to and fro on his palm, as if debating.

“Oh, you don’t want to leave? Not even to show me the way?” Its antennae twitched in answer and Xie Lian sighed. “Perhaps your brothers will guide us.”

The three ahead move lazily through the air, gliding up and down in their path. Xie Lian took it as the agreement it was, and together they moved with a purpose.

The halls of Paradise Manor lead Xie Lian to a large room, accented with furniture made for lounging.

San Lang was standing in the center, his back to Xie Lian, whose steps quickened without permission at the sight of him, pulse speeding up. He forcibly slowed himself, in time to notice the dark figure kneeling at San Lang’s feet.

A ghost with pitch black hair drawn up in a severe tail– and a white, smiling mask.

As Xie Lian approached, he heard the tail end of the conversation.

“– dismissed.” San Lang said, already turning to Xie Lian.

“–r will be done, Lord.” The ghost at his feet seemed to melt away into the shadows of the room, as Xie Lian had imagined San Lang himself doing earlier.

“San Lang.” Xie Lian began, planning to thank his host for the entirely unnecessary raiments. Of course, he didn’t think Paradise Manor had any proper attire for him, if the servants were all dressed so finely. Even the kneeling ghost in black seemed high-ranking, as if the noble he served could afford to dress even his subordinates as kings.

San Lang himself had only been seen in robes as princely as Xie Lian had worn during his time as actual royalty.

But he didn’t get a chance to start that conversation, because San Lang’s eyes lit up to see him, and a smile tugged at his mouth as he flowed over, and raised a hand almost to cup the side of Xie Lian’s head as he beholds him.

“Gege.” He said, as if he wants to say… something else. It was breathy and… Xie Lian could not detect what all it was, save that it made blood rush to his neck in a way he hoped could be attributed to flushed skin fresh from the bath.

“San Lang.” Xie Lian repeated, feeling awfully off-balance. He didn’t know what to do with that look, and all it implies, but he need not figure it out– San Lang eyed him slowly, taking in his robes and his boots and his fresh clean skin, and he was visibly pleased.

“Oh, but your hair is still wet.” San Lang said, stepping that much closer. They are not– quite– touching, but Xie Lian felt the aura of him as powerfully as he’d feel a human’s body heat.

Water fell from Xie Lian’s unbound hair. He’d tried to wring it out, of course, but it was still damp and loose and getting the collar and shoulders of his fine robes wet. A drop slid down his neck; it had been fine in the hallway, more-or-less the same temperature as his skin, but now it was as if the water was ten times colder or he himself was somehow ten times warmer, and he shivered to feel it.

“Let’s get you taken care of at once.” San Lang said decisively. “I have just the thing.”

“I can brush it out on my own, if you’ve a spare comb.” Xie Lian said quietly, just to see what would happen. San Lang affixed him with a wounded look.

“Gege.” He said reproachfully. “You would deny this one the satisfaction of being a good host?”

“San Lang is an exemplary host.” Xie Lian said back, amused despite himself. “Too good, one might say. A little ridiculous, even.”

“Better to offer too much than too little.” San Lang said, confident in himself and his walk as he held out a hand, gesturing to the door Xie Lian just came through with a flourish. He had seen no appropriate venues in the hallway, nor did it end in anything but the bathing chambers, so this more or less confirms Xie Lian’s theory about the twisting, ghostly halls.

“Pray San Lang guide me, or I’d surely get lost a thousand times.” Xie Lian said, eyes bright and laying his hand demurely on the pale gesturing one still in the air.

San Lang does not– quite– stumble, but his skin does fetch a lighter pink in the light of the torches, and his lips part for a moment in surprise.

He recovered swiftly, drawing his arm in with Xie Lian’s hand still atop his, and smoothly arranging things until his fingers were intertwined with Xie Lian’s, their arms at a more natural angle between them.

“Come, Gege.” San Lang said, smiling, tugging gently to take Xie Lian with him, eyes never leaving Xie Lian’s. “This servant will comb out your hair.”

“San Lang isn’t anyone’s servant.” Xie Lian protested, and San Lang shrugged easily.

“For tonight, I’m yours.” He promised, and the words seemed so much more than the sentiment merits. Underneath the playfulness, he was utterly sincere.

And when faced with that, Xie Lian can’t help but follow.

San Lang led him through the twisting halls until they were back in the room Xie Lian used last night. Instead of opening the door, however, their clasped hands bring him to the door adjacent.

San Lang opened the door and gestured for him to go through first– which was utterly ridiculous, when he didn’t drop Xie Lian’s hand. The ghost flowed through afterward, quick on Xie Lian’s heels from the tether, and still smiling.

Xie Lian took in the room around him with surprise. It was quite fine; easily as fine as his room, which was absurdly lavish. This one was bedraped in red with mahogany wood furnishings, tracing out numerous cabinets and chest-of-drawers. The carpet was twice again thicker than the comforter on Xie Lian’s bed; he could feel it even through his furred boots.

“San Lang has expensive tastes.” Xie Lian noted teasingly, and San Lang pouted, though his eyes lit up at the play.

“Gege, San Lang didn’t even design this room.” He gestured pitifully with his free hand. “These are to Hua Cheng’s taste.”

“Oh?” Xie Lian perked up, taking in the room in a new light. “And does San Lang have similar tastes to Hua Cheng?”

“Is Gege curious about the lord of the manor?” San Lang teased.

“Of course!” Xie Lian laughed, and was surprised to see his companion blink in surprise. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“Perhaps.” San Lang allowed. He led Xie Lian to a red-upholstered chair, at the feet of which was a pillow. If such a lavishly decorated piece could truly be called a “pillow”– it more closely resembled the cushion of a palanquin, richly embroidered, and big enough for Xie Lian to sit on comfortably.

“Gege need not wonder,” San Lang said, guiding him to sit. “This San Lang can tell you anything you want to know.”

His hand, slim and confident, lowered Xie Lian’s down until he was sitting with his legs folded under him. Even then it lingered, Xie Lian’s arm raised above him for a long moment before his fingers moving over San Lang’s palm, and then his fingertips– the separation lingering for several heartbeats, a drop of dew sliding off a delicate flower petal.

Finally, Xie Lian’s hand landed in his own lap, and only then did San Lang move away, busying himself in a nearby cabinet. It took him a moment to parse the offer.

“Oh?” And why was Xie Lian breathless, as San Lang unearthed a full set of jade combs, nestled like jewels in a velveted wooden box?

“Mm.” San Lang agreed, selecting a fine-tooth comb that surely wouldn’t be ideal, with the state of Xie Lian’s hair, catching on every massive tangle, but Xie Lian kept his mouth firmly shut.

“What would Gege like to know?” San Lang asked, taking a seat and devoting his entire attention to Xie Lian. Gentle hands guided Xie Lian back, until his shoulders were resting against San Lang’s knees, and every inch of his body was keenly aware of their proximity.

It took him a while to gather his thoughts. By the time he did, San Lang had divided his hair this way and that, adjusting the part of his hair, and brought the comb up to divide it properly.

He relaxed bonelessly when San Lang began to brush at the very bottom of Xie Lian’s hair, teasing out the smallest of tangles instead of yanking such a fine comb through it at the top and making a mess of things.

Xie Lian hummed to himself, letting his eyes fall shut.

“What kind of person is Hua Cheng?” He finally asked.

“Oh?” San lang said, amused. “Didn’t Gege already have his own opinions– kind, admirable, fair?”

“Don’t forget ‘generous’.” Xie Lian smiled, teasing. “He must be very generous, to give San Lang such a nice room, and to allow guests to be treated as I have been.”

The comb barely paused.

“It’s really the bare minimum, Gege.” He admonished.

Xie Lian laughed, feeling the tug and pull as he did.

“What does San Lang think of Hua Cheng?” He pressed, feeling daring. Always so daring around San Lang, who let him get away with far, far too much– and dared him in turn to take more.

He was so very dangerous.

“Hm.” San Lang tapped his comb. “Let’s see…”

“San Lang is stalling.” Xie Lian accused, stifling a grin. “Don’t you have nice things to say about your lord?”

“My lord…” A loud breath, and then a sigh. “Hua Cheng is alright, I guess. He keeps a leash on the wilder spirits in the city.”

“He must be very powerful.” Xie Lian said.

“Oh yes.” A grin curling into San Lang’s voice, something like shy pride in the words. “Doesn’t Gege know? He’s not only the ruler of Ghost City, but a Ghost King.”

“You mentioned that, once.” Xie Lian said, remembering their discussion of the blood banks. “I thought he was King of the city, but you say it differently. What does it mean, to be a ghost king?”

“Does Gege know the ranks of ghosts?” San Lang asked, idly separating a new section of hair. His hands were gentle yet confident, and he appeared to be in no hurry at all.

Heavenly officials were meant to stop ghosts from mucking about in the human realm, but Xie Lian hadn’t had much opportunity to do so when he was a god.

“Fierce, Malice, and Wrath, right?” Most ghosts minded their own business, so it was relatively rare for heaven to be called on to handle one. Few had a ‘reputation’ or were known by name, which was part of why the civil gods had to do so much research among the living when such situations arose.

“Just so.” San Lang agreed. “However, there is a fourth rank: Devastation.”

The word in San Lang’s voice sent a shiver down Xie Lian’s back.

“Mosts ghosts are just ghosts,” Xie Lian remembered. “A Fierce ghost is capable of taking a human life. Malice, a few lives at once. Wraths are dangerous yet rare, capable of massacring entire cities at once.”

What could a Devastation do?

“Mm.” San Lang agreed. “Devastations can destroy an entire country as easily as a Fierce ghost kills one man. It makes heaven… nervous.”

“I bet Hua Cheng terrifies them.” Xie Lian laughed, unable to help it. He had no great fondness for the gods, and the small pang of sympathy that welled up in his heart was quickly overtaken by amusement at how much panic such a powerful ghost must have caused.

“Oh yes.” San Lang grinned. “He caused quite the stir. Mostly, though, there’s the story of the thirty-three gods. The smart ones remember and leave him alone.”

“Thirty-three gods?”

“Mn. Hua Cheng challenged thirty-three gods, civil and martial alike, and bet his ashes to their divinity on his victory.”

“He won.” Xie Lian said, hardly daring to believe it. “But there’s no way…”

“That they’d hold up their side of the bargain?” San Lang asked. “Mm, no, they didn’t. So Hua Cheng burned down all their temples in one night, and with no believers…”

“They faded completely.” Xie Lian finished quietly. “Well, nobody forced them to agree. It had to be sheer arrogance.”

“Yes.” San Lang agreed, amused. “And he’s been the terror of heaven ever since.”

“I can imagine.” Xie Lian said, able to do just that: picture heavenly officials, especially the weaker gods, packing up and running in fear of the ghost that could kill them so easily.

The gods were used to being invincible. Or, if they were to lose a fight, still immortal at the end of the day.

“Are the ghosts that live here afraid of him, too?” He didn’t think Hua Cheng ruled through fear alone, but it had to be said that most ghosts would not behave for just anyone, let alone follow laws set down.

A brief pause.

“They don’t live in fear.” San Lang finally said. “They like living here. They fear his wrath, should they break the laws. They follow the rules out of fear for what he’ll do to him, but… the blood banks compete to see which vintage he likes best. They cheer at his gambling hall, and…loudly tell stories of his victories over the gods, when they’ve had too much to drink.” San Lang sounded exasperated, yet fond.

“They love him.” Xie Lian said simply, picturing the rowdy crowd pressing trinkets and flowers into the King’s hands. “They love the city.”

“I… suppose so.” San Lang said, sounding surprised to consider it that way. “Hmm.”

“What do they call him?” Xie Lian prodded.

“Chengzhu.” San Lang answered immediately, voice softening. “They call him Hua Chengzhu.”

“See?” Xie Lian said. “They have nothing but love and respect for him. What does Heaven call him?”

“Heaven doesn’t have a rude name for him, Gege.” San Lang laughed. “They wouldn’t dare. They use his official title.”

His voice was like a caress, softer than the glide of the comb:

“Crimson Rain Sought Flower.”

Xie Lian’s mouth dropped open.

“It’s beautiful.” He said. “How did he get such a name?”

“I’m glad Gege thinks so.” San Lang said. “It’s a silly story, from long ago. He was dealing with an upstart, annoying ghost, and in the aftermath, as blood fell like rain from the sky, Hua Cheng saw a pristine white flower growing close to the ground. He tipped his umbrella over to spare it.”

Xie Lian could imagine it so easily. It had been hundreds of years since he was a god of flowers, yet he also felt very touched. The only part he could not visualize, however, was the appearance of the ghost. In his mind’s eye it was San Lang sparing the small flower, smiling gently.

Xie Lian shook his head to clear it.

“Does he wear a lot of red, then?” Xie Lian hazarded a guess, based on the decor of his current dwelling.

San Lang’s laughter echoes out, soft and sweet.

“Yes, Gege. He’s the red ghost, after all. The black ghost, Black Water Sinking Ships, is the only other ghost king, and he calls Hua Cheng Crimson Rain.”

Another ghost king? But Xie Lian would not be distracted! He imagined he’d notice the man based on aura alone, but wanted to be able to recognize his host!

“Any recognizable features?” He tried, remembering the last time he asked.

“I told you earlier that Hua Cheng is a shapeshifter, and he is.” San Lang continued. “He’s a vampire type of ghost, but a very powerful one. He can control blood in all its forms and is undamaged by fire or silver. In fact, he carries a wicked saber made from silver. However, sunlight still weakens him slightly, and attacks of yang energy do more damage than anything else. He’s also blind in one eye, so if you fight him, come from the right side.”

“San lang!” Xie lian said, stricken. “You can’t just… saying these things, isn’t it giving away Hua Cheng’s weaknesses?”

“If it’s Gege, it’s fine.” San Lang said simply.

San Lang combed through his hair, gently teasing out tangles when he came across them. Xie Lian had been thorough in the baths, but years between proper care took its toll.

Still, San Lang hummed.

“Gege has a lot of questions.”

Xie Lian blushed.

“Just curious, I suppose. Your lord seems like quite the person.”

“Mm.” San Lang said. “My lord is without equal.”

“He’s lucky to have you.” Xie Lian said

The comb dragged through his hair, slow, methodical, mesmerizing. He goes over sections he’d already brushed and doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“Does San Lang do this for Hua Cheng?”

A pause.

“Sometimes.” He said quietly. The comb brushed away hair from Xie Lian’s neck, which he gathered neatly aside. It’s silk over silk, gentle fingertips brushing the side of Xie Lian’s neck. Xie Lian can’t see but can imagine his smile, a small thing playing over his lips.

His thumb stroked the spot where he bit, the touch eliciting goose bumps. It took long, infinite seconds, and Xie Lian’s mouth fell open, though he knew the wound had long since healed, leaving perfect skin behind.

“But if you really want Hua Cheng’s weakness.” San Lang breathed into his ear, with an air of playfulness, “Like any ghost, it would be his ashes.”

“His ashes?” Xie Lian asked, hardly daring to breathe as San Lang’s lips came close enough to almost touch.

“Mm, has Gege heard the stories? They’re very romantic.” San Lang pulled back, sounding pleased with himself. He ran one hand slowly through Xie Lian’s hair, letting strands slip and slide over his fingers.

“Will San Lang tell me?” Xie Lian asked, feeling bold. He tipped his head back, San Lang’s hands lifting in quiet surprise, until he was leaning back on the ghost’s knees– and able to look up at him, the top of his head brushing San Lang’s chest.

San Lang’s hands fell to his shoulders, and his face was right there– looking down at Xie Lian with surprise, his lips parting softly. He was no less handsome upside down, especially when his rose petal lips turned up in a curl of a smile.

“Always.” He said, fingers of one hand trailing inward a little, lines of warmth on Xie Lian’s shoulder. He reached Xie Lian’s neck and stole a lock of hair around one finger, twirling it idly as he spoke.

His eyes crinkled with the smile, looking fondly at Xie Lian. The once-god felt still relaxed and warm from the bath, and boneless here in the draped finery of San Lang’s room.

San Lang’s other hand came up and began petting his hair again, even as the other stayed put– playing with a single lock, his knuckles every so often touching Xie Lian’s neck.

“A ghost’s ashes are his greatest weakness.” San Lang began, with the air of a story teller. His voice was deep but almost careless, which brought a fun sort of whimsy to his tales, even as they were very matter-of-fact and reflected his high level of knowledge.

He waited for Xie Lian’s acknowledgement, red eyes glancing down at him; from this angle, his lashes were so dark and long, the cut of his chin a distraction.

“Every ghost?” Xie Lian asked, just to keep the conversation going.

“Mm. Even your San Lang.” San Lang agreed, sliding his fingers in a little deeper. His nails moved ever so gently against Xie Lian’s scalp, and Xie Lian slumped boneless against his lap.

San Lang looked pleased. Xie Lian, surprising even himself, let his eyes fall shut. San Lang’s voice seemed even more hypnotic like this, painting a scene with pastel pigments and broad, careless strikes of ink on a scroll. It was like a fairy tale.

“When a ghost’s ashes are destroyed, he is forcibly removed from this world. Therefore, they are his greatest weakness.” San Lang let go of the little lock of hair, following it to the root, to Xie Lian’s temple. He brushed the hair back from Xie Lian’s face, looking at him from above.

“A ghost’s ashes can take many forms.” San Lang continued, like a teacher– if a teacher had such a knowing tone, amusement drifting deep. “Sometimes jewelry, sometimes forged into a trinket or keepsake. Less common, still in the urn of cremation.”

“You’d want to keep something like that close.” Xie Lian guessed, wondering at the jewelry San Lang wears; currently, the aureate chain holding his collar together; the metal in his tassels, draping off the finery; his earrings, ruby and gold.

“Mn.” San Lang said, agreeably, but Xie Lian could feel his every breath, his shoulders braced on San Lang’s knees. Basically draped against his lap. Xie Lian thought about correcting that, about moving; but San Lang seemed just as comfortable as he was, leaning in to tell his ghost story with an air of something quiet, special, just between them.

Moving away would create so much distance, and Xie Lian was invested. He couldn’t pull away from the cupid’s bow mouth passing him sweet knowledge.

“No?” Xie Lian called him on it, tipping his face slightly. A soft inhale from the lungs under his ear as he turned his cheek into fine robes, the chain looped between his high-necked collar tickling Xie Lian’s nose. His hair, loose and unbound, slid to follow.

“Sometimes.” The subtlest indication of movement, of air displaced. San Lang’s hand hovering uncertainly above Xie Lian’s cheek before he lowered it anyway, curved knuckle drawing along his cheek. Individual strands of hair were moved back into place, tucked around his ear.

“Sometimes?” Xie Lian encouraged quietly, eyes slipping shut once more, leaning into the sensation.

“Sometimes,” San Lang said, voice dropping to echo Xie Lian’s volume, fingers so softly stroking his cheek, “Well, there’s a tradition in the Ghost Realm. Ancient, actually. Probably older than both of us.”

Many things were. Xie Lian liked old things; things that had been around before he was born to mess everything up, and would be around long after he was finally dust.

“Is it a nice tradition?”

“I like to think so.” San Lang nearly whispered, close enough now that Xie Lian could feel the words against his skin. “Certainly, a romantic one. A ghost will voluntarily give up their ashes to their love.”

Xie Lian gasped, hand twitching in his lap with the urge to cover his mouth. “And what do they…”

“What does the lover do with the ashes?” San Lang’s thumb stroked slowly across Xie Lian’s cheek as he offered a crooked smile. “That’s the beauty of it, Gege. ‘Whatever they want’.”

The tone was flippant, but the words were so quiet Xie Lian could barely hear him, the low murmur of a secret.

“You shouldn’t be telling me this.” Xie Lian said again, lips barely moving.

The story pulled back the veil between living and dead, offering Xie Lian a glimpse of the secret culture of ghosts. It felt… dangerous.

Hauntingly beautiful.

Beguiling.

Like San Lang himself, holding out a hand to welcome Xie Lian into Ghost City, not as a tourist, but a beloved guest. You’re allowed, every gesture said.

“It’s fine if it’s Gege.” San Lang said, again, dismissive. He did not look away.

“Isn’t it scary?” Xie Lian asked, searching the face above his, the maple eyes. Surely there were tales upon tales of betrayal and loss, with such a tradition.

“No,” San Lang said simply. “If it were me, if I loved someone that much– wouldn’t it be a comfort? If they scatter my ashes, so what? If they cherish them forever, that’s fine. Command me? They already own me in all the ways that matter, what’s one more?”

“Reckless.” Xie Lian admonished, but couldn’t help the small smile, nor the way his heart thundered in his chest. He hoped San Lang couldn’t feel it– but ah, a vampire could probably…

San Lang’s pupils dilated a little, and the skin under his thumb lurched up a few degrees.

“Maybe,” San Lang said, lashes dipping as he leans closer. He hummed.

“But life is too short not to take risks for the one you love, don’t you think?” Said one immortal to another, the space between them charged and electric.

A strand of hair fell over his cheek, brushing his neck. He realized, all at once, that his hair was dry. It had also been thoroughly combed, oiled and probably nicer than it’d been since he actually was at the palace of his birth.

“Is San lang finished?” He whispered, looking deeply into endless red eyes.

“No.” He whispered back, nonsensically. “But Gege’s hair is done.”

He slowly pulled his hands away from Xie Lian, and leaned away.

Xie Lian was left blinking up at the ceiling, the ghost removed from his line of sight, and still draped over San Lang’s lap. He sat up in a hurry, cheeks flushed but unable to help reaching up to feel his hair.

It flowed over his fingers like silk, like Ruoye at its cleanest, and he couldn’t help being oddly touched at the care that went into it. The way San Lang had brushed it without complaint, answering all of his questions. The way he’d lingered after the job was done, as if he enjoyed Xie Lian’s company just as much as Xie Lian enjoyed his.

 

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