Reading Time: 105 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
Artist Appreciation: Thank you so much for working with me! It’s my first time doing Quantum Bang and you were an excellent partner. I hope you enjoy the finished version. Your art is incredible!

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5. Gambler’s Den.

Walking the streets of Ghost City next to San Lang was similar to walking alongside his wraith butterfly. The crowd saw them and the crowd made room, gamely parting with respectful nods as they saw the swish of red robes and the chime of silver.

The city was awash in San Lang’s colors. Now that he knew the association, it was easy to see his hand in it. Most of the buildings were wood or stone, and if not red themselves, then lit up in the omnipresent light that seemed to float up from the flagstones themselves. Yellow or red hanging lanterns provided yet more ominous glow, either hanging from the storefronts themselves, or stretched out on lines that crisscrossed overhead.

The establishments themselves were well lit– equally split between vendors stalls out in the open and proper buildings housing their wares within, the welcoming glow shining through open doors or pulled-back curtains.

This was Xie Lian’s fourth time through Ghost City, and he’d begun to notice certain patterns about the layout of the shops.

“Each lane sells a different type of goods!” He pointed it out to San Lang with joy, before realizing– of course, the other knew. He might even have had a hand in designing it!

Xie Lian coughed and scratched his cheek, but San Lang merely beamed at him.

“Gege’s very perceptive.” He said, nodding. “Look, this entire section is devoted to ingredients, so everything on this lane is vegetables, and then herbs on another… meat, and then pantry stables and so forth.”

San Lang leaned across him to point as he spoke and Xie Lian took in the surprisingly sensible layout with starry eyes.

“So it’s different from the actual restaurants and street vendors?” He asked, and again San Lang nodded.

“Just so, Gege. Look, another section across the way– in this direction you can find handcrafted items. The lanes are divided by purpose.”

Xie Lian looked over in abject curiosity, a junk-collecter at heart, but just then his stomach betrayed him, growling loudly. More than one ghost growled reflexively back; San Lang leveled an unamused look their way and they became quite busy all of a sudden, scurrying away.

“I guess we’d better go to the food stalls, then…” Xie Lian laughed awkwardly. “Ah, that is, if San Lang wouldn’t mind?”

“This servant would follow Gege anywhere.” San Lang said, simply. He stepped a little closer, until their hips were almost touching, his arm hovering behind Xie Lian’s waist, and guided their steps until they were on the main thoroughfare, headed in one of the cardinal directions.

“This brickwork is really interesting,” Xie Lian said, noticing the colored paving stones underfoot.

“Thank you,” San Lang said absently, eyes ahead. “It took ages. By the time enough people were around to help, all they wanted to do was be the first ones to get their stalls and stores set up, and I had to burn half of them down just to get some fucking assistance.”

Rather than let his shock show, Xie Lian had to laugh.

“They tried to put up storefronts before the roads were finished?” He hid another laugh behind his sleeve.

“You don’t even know, Gege.” San Lang looked over at him, cheek dimpling. “It was awful. Before the city was up and running, it was pissing contest this, pissing contest that. I was always… Hua Cheng must have dispersed half the ghosts of the realm in the first six months, they kept trying to challenge him to rule.”

“San Lang must have been running around a lot. I didn’t realize you’d been around since then.” Xie Lian imagined black hair up in disarray, his carefully irreverent demeanor actually frazzled for once.

“I’ve been here since the start,” San Lang agreed. Then, under his breath, “For my sins.”

Xie Lian elbowed him, “You love it, really.”

Even he could tell. San Lang moved through Ghost City as if he owned it, with a familiarity that made perfect sense if he’d helped found the place– literally laying down the foundation. From the way he spoke of it, you could tell he really loved Ghost City, and was proud of it.

“More’s the pity.” San Lang sighed heavily, but a smile was playing about his lips, tugging one way and then another. “Eh, it’s alright, I guess.”

“Do you have a favorite place to eat?” Xie Lian asked, then coughed. “Ah, wait, I forget.”

“A few.” San Lang said, surprisingly him utterly. “The layouts change, of course– ghosts are fickle creatures at heart– but some restaurants have stayed more or less the same for decades.”

He looked over, quietly curious, and seemed to pluck the thought right out of Xie Lian’s head.

“Ah, did Gege think vampire ghosts could only drink blood?” He grinned wider, canines visible for a stolen moment. “We can eat human food, we just can’t live off of it. The taste is still nice.”

“San Lang is teasing me.” Xie Lian said into his hands, covering his face. He took a deep breath and chanced a look at his companion, who was… looking at him with the most unabashedly fond expression.

Xie Lian coughed into his fist.

“Not as nice as Gege, of course. If you’re worried.” The honeyed words played between them, eking flame higher in Xie Lian’s cheeks. He choked.

“San Lang.” He said, almost pleading, and the ghost mercifully turned his besotted smile away. Xie Lian tried to calm his racing heart.

“I’ll cut Gege a break,” San Lang laughed, eyes forward again but smile loud on his face. Laughing at Xie Lian. No–Xie Lian couldn’t keep the smile off his own face, either. Laughing with Xie Lian.

He did indeed take Xie Lian to a little restaurant, tucked into the corner at the end of one of the ‘lanes’. The outside appearance was normal wood, a little shabby, but the curtain acting as a doorway served as a portal into what Xie Lian almost took to be Paradise Manor, it was so familiar in decor. He shook himself, realizing it was almost impossible– however clever the winding magical hallways of San Lang’s residence, they were well across the city from it!

“I can see why you like it.” Xie Lian said at once, taking in the red, red walls.

San Lang tipped his head back and laughed, the low sound echoing off the walls. More than one person turned to look, and Xie Lian himself was held spellbound; his dark hair, so black it was almost red in the light, fell back from his forehead, and his eyes closed with mirth. His generous mouth and soft lips, strong nose–

Xie Lian pulled him out of the way from the next customer trying to come in through the cloth door, pulling him to an unoccupied table. San Lang followed, still chuckling, and his breathless appearance– it reminded him vividly of how he’d swept the other into his arms, and the ghost had merely kicked his feet, content to be carried.

“Do we need menus, or has San Lang memorized the offerings over the years?”

Laughter was still bright in his eyes, lines of it visible at the crinkle of his mouth and eyes, and he sat down and waved down a ghost who arrived as if actually summoned.

“Don’t be silly, Gege.” He said, voice deep and amused, propping his chin in his hand, elbow on the table. “You should pick whatever you like. Everything you like. This humble servant insists.”

The waiter choked, then gulped as San Lang’s eyes flicked over for a fraction of a second. He handed them menus and stuttered out that tea would be brought right out, then practically fled back behind the counter.

“San Lang shouldn’t bully his citizens.” Xie Lian admonished lightly, entirely too amused. He bit his lip to keep from grinning too obviously.

“Gege shouldn’t bully this San Lang by refusing his generous offer.” San Lang parried immediately, spreading open his menu so that Xie Lian could see, and leaning over to point out dishes that looked particularly good. “What if we just get one of everything? So you can try it all out.”

“We absolutely should not.” Xie Lian’s eyes widened with horror. The idea of wasting all that food! He couldn’t possibly eat it all, is the thing.

“Relax, Gege. We can pack up anything you don’t eat and give it away. Even Ghost City has beggars.”

Xie Lian, who had more often than not been the beggar grateful for spared food, relaxed into his chair. He hadn’t been fortunate enough to donate large amounts in… well, since he was a crown prince, probably. He’d most often been the one receiving pittances!

“You’re very silly.” He said to San Lang, but the idea– as ridiculous and extravagant as it is– sounds like a great deal of fun.

“I’m very lucky.” San Lang corrected, watching him with… again the besotted expression. “Let’s do it, Gege. You can try some of everything, and then we can make some people’s days.”

So they did. They ordered one of everything in the restaurant, Xie Lian taking no more than a sample portion here and there– with San Lang pointing out his own favorites, and shyly taking bites of what Xie Lian offered him– and ordered the rest packed up.

San Lang picked up the resulting trays by their binding clothes, knotted atop like the world’s largest work lunch packed by the world’s most powerful housewife, and headed toward the nearest grouping of beggar ghosts.

They didn’t scatter when they saw San Lang, by all reports a figure of authority in Ghost City since its conception, and that more than anything reassures Xie Lian. If he’d been having doubts…

But San Lang had given him no reason to doubt him, even if a more suspicious man might regard him with distrust just for being so mysterious or mischievous.

As the youthful ghost chose a representative among the beggars to start portioning out the veritable feast– they’d also ordered about thirty portions of rice extra– Xie Lian watched him with something like awe. No, he was an excellent judge of character, and he was struck most by his initial perception: that despite his playfulness, this was one of the most sincere people he’d ever met.

San Lang looked up at him, exchanged another quick word with the grandmother he’d assigned the gargantuan task, and smiled widely. He straightened up, burden relieved, and rejoined Xie Lian.

He held out a hand.

“So, now that we’ve eaten.” He said, almost coy. “Does Gege still want to see the Gambling Den?”

“Mm.” Xie Lian said, taking his hand. “Gege really does.”

San Lang’s wet mouth caught the light as his lips parted, filtered yellow sunlight that passed for sunset in ghost city– in these brief hours between the city’s perpetual twilight and dawn, the sky was painted with fire.

Their fingers slid together, palms clasping, and San Lang led the way.

The Gambler’s Den is a huge building, towering over the city. It sat on a large hill, the steps leading up to it steep and ominous. Despite the location, it was anything but dark and dreary. The walls and the pillars were all a bright, bloody red, with light pouring out.

It was inviting in its uniqueness, playful in its taunting. The signs that San Lang had written were likewise enticing; “Money over life!” and “Gains over shame!”

Laughter was pinned over the top of the building, reinforcing the idea to Xie Lian. Yes, humans may come here out of desperation and agony, but to the ghosts of Ghost City, it was a place for fun.

“Ghosts are going to be mischievous.” Xie Lian murmured to his companion, taking in the details of the place.

“So we might as well give them an outlet, yes.” San Lang sighed, fighting a grin. “Gege sees right through me as always.”

“San Lang hasn’t tried to be particularly opaque with me.” Xie Lian accused and got a grin and a shrug in response. He almost laughed, but then they were at the doors, and San Lang strode across the threshold without hesitation.

Xie Lian was at once swept into the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Masked bouncers and croupiers directed patrons to various games and tables, dice clattering and cards flying. Some games used tiles, some more esoteric pieces, and Xie Lian– who has never gambled, of course– couldn’t even name them.

San Lang disappeared to fetch refreshments for them, immune to Xie Lian’s weak protests of “it’s fine, I’m not that thirsty.” During this time, unfortunately, Xie Lian was at the mercy of the curious onlookers.

Most minded their business, not wanting to risk their afterlife by prying into matters above their station, but a few drifted over and couldn’t help but stare.

One ghost was visibly building up the courage to ask who Xie Lian was, to be on the arm of San Lang, when a much ruder being bumped bodily into Xie Lian from behind.

The curious ghost shut its mouth with a snap and wide eyes, backing away.

“Oof!” Xie Lian was knocked forward, glad that he wasn’t holding anything. Surely one of those pretty champagne flutes would have snapped and shattered in the commotion.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” The offender slurred, and Xie Lian realized they were big, drunk and disorderly. Most concerning of all, they were not alone. The masculine ghost had a few buddies next to him, equally inebriated, equally rude.

One of them bared his teeth at Xie Lian, and he saw at once that he had sharp, pointed canines that made him break out into an involuntary sweat.

Xie Lian flushed.

“Excuse me.” He said, diplomatically. He tried to brush past them.

The third drunkard scowled, pushing at his shoulder. “I think you owe us an apology!” He said, projecting his voice loudly. “You must not know who we are.”

“My apologies.” Xie Lian said at once. Pride? Ha ha, he doesn’t know her. Pride was the first thing he lost in the ashes of Xian Le. The most worthless of his many layers stripped away.

“And who are you, then? Some human fuck?” The second of the men leaned forward, over his compatriot’s shoulder. “Try’na gamble your life away, huh? Well, I can bet all your sweet blood–”

The others were all closing in on Xie Lian now, leering and jeering, but the speaker was cut off with an aborted shriek and a gurgle. Silver flashed through the room, too fast to see properly. The hand that had rested so greasily on Xie Lian’s shoulder was pulled back nearly detached from the wrist, its owner sinking to his knees, howling.

Three ghosts jerked and flinched and screamed as they were slashed by a hundred invisible blades, light glinting as if from the same, but as Xie Lian turned and turned, no knives were visible. He raised his arms defensively, yet before he could determine the cause, it was over.

A handful of wraith butterflies were floating amongst the groaning vampires, who were bleeding from so many gashes– most of them shallow, save for the one who was forcibly made to unhand Xie Lian, who clutched the fountain of his wrist.

One of them flew so close to Xie Lian’s face that he felt the tickle of wings over his cheeks, and breathed a laugh despite himself. It landed on his hair, tiny forelegs moving loose strands to and fro.

“San Lang.” Xie Lian said, slumping in naked relief. Ah, but to cause such a scene– usually Xie Lian would be kicked out of an establishment, assumed to be at fault, and possibly chased out of town by an angry mob!

Probably he didn’t have to worry about that this time.

San Lang didn’t have a reassuring smile for him, however. The banked yin energy that usually accompanied his ghost was out in full force, almost choking in its power and malevolence.

Had the three fools not been on their knees already, they would have fallen to them under the sheer pressure. Around them, the noise and revelry shrieked to a stop as ghosts plastered themselves to the walls of the room, away from San Lang, or hit the floor in low, low kowtows of obeisance.

Cast in the silver light of his familiars, San Lang’s expression was twisted with rage.

“You dare?” He demanded, dark voice carrying through the entirety of the hall.

“Chengzhu, please!” One of the three vampires cried, all of their voices tripping over themselves to explain. “We didn’t realize he was yours!” and “Lord, we did not know!”

“You’re not worthy to breathe the same air as Dianxia, let alone lay your filthy fucking hands on him!” San Lang snarled, seeming so much larger– no, it was the aura of resentful energy around him, so concentrated it was hard to breathe through. “Beg for your miserable lives!”

“Please, Chengzhu!”

“Let me live, let me live!”

“Mercy! Mercy, Lord!”

The last request made San Lang’s lip curl even more. He snapped, “Granted.” And his sword left its sheath so quickly Xie Lian almost missed it.

The three ghosts were dispersed in a flash of silver before Xie Lian could so much as lift a hand to protest.

San Lang’s hand trembled around the hilt of his saber, sheathed at his hip. He squared his shoulders with a deep breath, and turned sharply on his heel to Xie Lian.

“Di– Gege, are you okay?” His eyes were full of concern, mouth twisted up with it.

“San Lang.” Xie Lian said, somewhat helplessly. “You didn’t have to kill them.”

San Lang huffed, unconcerned. “Gege need not concern himself with that filth. They’ll reform in a while.”

Oh, well– that was okay then.

Just then, a familiar figure arrived on the scene, sinking to one knee at once. Xie Lian recognized him as the kneeling figure from the manor, with the white mask.

“Lord,” He said hesitantly. “I don’t mean to interrupt.”

San Lang waved a hand imperiously.

“Out with it.” He said tiredly, with only a quick, sidelong glance at Xie Lian.

“There are more troublemakers out back.” He admitted. “It seems the kind of night where a statement must be made, my lord.”

San Lang sighed. Wraith butterflies began forming around him, silver striking light illuminating ghosts and furniture both. The clench of his jaw in the silver glow was mesmerizing and dangerous. A hush swept over the hall, as everyone made themselves scarce.

Xie Lian almost felt bad for the revelers outside.

But the man before him was above all things kind, admirable, and merciful.

He looked at Xie Lian, then, something almost helpless in his eyes.

“Gege,” He said, in the cadence of one trying to explain something and unsure how to begin.

Xie Lian held up a hand to silence him. San Lang fell quiet at once, but did not look happy.

Xie Lian smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, Hua Cheng.” He said. “I’ll be here when you return.”

Hua Cheng sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening. His jaw clenched and he nodded. He took several steps forward, before pausing– as close to Xie Lian as he usually was, when they walked tucked together in Paradise Manor.

He brought a hand up to tuck a lock of brown hair behind Xie Lian’s ear, one that must have come loose from his tie in the commotion. The butterfly climbed onto his finger briefly, before fluttering down to Xie Lian’s shoulder and bunkering down.

“Gege.” He breathed. “This one… much prefers being your San Lang.”

Xie Lian’s ears flamed red. He hoped his expression didn’t betray him too much, even as his eyes crinkled and his smile widened.

“Good luck, San Lang.” He breathed, very aware of the hand on his cheek, of their proximity. Of the dark power still swirling around the Ghost King who watched him so intently.

“I won’t need it.” Hua Cheng said, huffing a little laugh. “But you need not concern yourself– I won’t keep you waiting long.”

His eyes did not leave Xie Lian’s, who found himself only able to nod. Hua Cheng looked into his eyes for another long moment before nodding, himself and, steps full of urgency, swept out of the hall entirely, accompanied by his entourage of spirit butterflies, beautiful and deadly.

All but the one who stayed behind, content with Xie Lian– a silent, beautiful guard.

—

When Hua Cheng returned, his appearance was unchanged. He flicked blood off his hand, the only part of him to show any trace of violence. Such a small movement wouldn’t have cleansed the skin on anyone else, but for Hua Cheng, the red was burned away with spiritual power, leaving unblemished white behind.

Xie Lian watched his hand as he crossed the wide breadth of the hall, stride unpausing. It was not so much that the crowd parted for him as the denizens of the room ensured they wouldn’t have to, his path already cleared in advance of his steps.

He didn’t lower his hand, letting it guide the space in front of him, as though reaching out to Xie Lian. Indeed, when he reached him, Hua Cheng stopped just shy of touch, fingers lingering but not making contact above Xie Lian’s sleeve.

“Gege.” He said, relief and greeting in his tone, as though Xie Lian could have vanished or suffered in the time he was gone. It was so… Xie Lian felt his heart flutter at the concern.

How long had it been since someone cared whether he was to stay or go?

“San Lang.” He replied, leaning in despite himself. He watched the way Hua Cheng’s lips parted, mesmerized. “Did you have any trouble?”

“None.” Hua Cheng said, breathily. “Did Gege miss me?”

Something glittered in his tone, a hint of fey playfulness, and Xie Lian felt a now-familiar boldness rise in him to meet it.

His hands rose in front of him, not quite daring to rest on Hua Cheng’s chest, but certainly close enough to reach. He settled for fluttering them over his outer robes, as though making sure the other was uninjured, and unruffled from the excursion.

Hua Cheng did not lean away from him, did not capture his wandering hands. If anything, he leaned closer.

I didn’t have time to miss you, he thought, rationally, and then his mouth said, “Yes.”

He couldn’t even help himself, honestly!

Of course he did! The seconds had felt like the long, ponderous beats of his heart when he bleeds out, each feeling like the echoing strike to a gong. The exact opposite of the flittering thing in his chest now, pulse rapid with excitement.

Hua Cheng’s lips parted again, this time in surprise. He was rewarded with a wide smile, vermillion eyes wide and bright.

“Then… I should stay by your side from now on, to spare you.” Hua Cheng leaned in so close, the words were brushed against Xie Lian’s cheek. For some reason, the proximity lit a path of fire across his face.

Xie Lian looked away, his hands finding purchase on Hua Cheng’s shoulders for stability. Hua Cheng’s nose barely touched his temple, breath fanning out against Xie Lian’s ear.

“San Lang shouldn’t say that kind of thing, I might take him seriously.” He reprimanded, struggling for air all of a sudden. He laughed, weakly. “You’d get so bored with me.”

“Never.” Hua Cheng promised, but a second later he swept Xie Lian out of the crowd with a deft hand pressing lightly against the small of his back, staying close.

They ended up near one of the few bare walls, devoid of the gambling tables or various furnishings, out of the foot traffic. It lent a hush to their little slice of the room, more private– especially with the wide berth the citizens give their lord.

“Does Gege want to learn?” Hua Cheng asked, lips almost catching on his hair, they were so close still, following Xie Lian’s gaze across the room.

“To gamble?” Xie Lian asked, surprised. He had to clear his throat, hands feeling like someone else’s entirely as they rested so comfortably on Hua Cheng’s collar. The closeness had him positively dizzy.

“Mm.” Hua Cheng agreed. “You were interested, yes?”

Xie Lian swayed, feeling light-headed– ah, yes. He should probably be breathing. He laughed at himself, and nodded.

“I don’t have anything to wager, though.” He found himself saying, amused.

“Gege has more than he thinks.” Hua Cheng disagreed, smiling. “But he doesn’t need anything for now. Not while he’s learning. It’s just practice, see?”

“Here?” Xie Lian asked, looking around their abandoned corner of the room. The closest game was a table of people playing cards, the table master shuffling them with the kind of poise and showmanship that sends them flying through the air in artful patterns.

“Let’s see.” Hua Cheng guided him once more and Xie Lian followed; his legs were so light it felt more akin to flying, stepping in time with Hua Cheng’s confident glide.

Hua Cheng’s spare hand reached out as they passed a center table, taking the cup and dice without so much as a by your leave, and no one at the table protested. The game-master reached under the table and produced another set without stumbling, continuing the game of chance with his patrons.

They alight up the steps dominating the far side of the room, across from the entrance, Hua Cheng taking him up to the gossamer red curtain with no hesitation.

“Is this really okay!?” Xie Lian asked, caught off guard, feet stopping for a moment on the steps. Hua Cheng made it a few steps above him, as far away as they’ve been since his return– and even still, his hand sat gently on Xie Lian’s back, keeping within that arm’s reach.

Xie Lian realized what a stupid question that was moments later; this was Hua Cheng’s city, Hua Cheng’s gambling den, Hua Cheng’s throne. He can surely do whatever he wants!

“Since it’s Gege, it’s fine.” Hua Cheng promised, a playful smile taking up his lips. His expression was mischievous, inviting– Xie Lian followed him up the steps and beyond the curtain, saw the large, ornate high-backed chair.

It was a throne, richly upholstered; it could clearly seat two.

Hua Cheng guided him to sit and followed immediately, their sides not quite touching but so close the distinction seemed meaningless. He tugged over a side table, clearly meant to house refreshments, its legs spindly and weight low.

Xie Lian was so very aware of where their legs met, thigh to thigh. Of his elbow grazing Hua Cheng’s. The red curtain settled down, previously disturbed by their passage and now cutting them off from the rest of the hall. The crowd of the den became an afterthought, a quiet murmur of voices.

“Just two dice?” Xie Lian asked, leaning half across Hua Cheng to see the stolen goods. They were housed in a fine wood and leather cup, Hua Cheng’s slender fingers wrapped around it.

“Yes, exactly. It’s a simple game.” Hua Cheng leaned the cup over to show him the two dice within, white against the dark of the instrument. “You place a wager, then shake the cup. Before the dice are revealed, the challenger claims either highs or lows.”

“So two sixes would be ‘high’, and two ones ‘low’.” Xie Lian nodded, understanding. “The challenger is the one who chooses?”

“Yes. It’s because the house– that is, the game-master or the establishment– has plenty, and the other party is challenging them for it. People come from across the lands to try to steal away my wealth and treasures.”

“But they could lose it all, too.” Xie Lian couldn’t help but note.

“And often they do.” Hua Cheng agreed. “But this is just for practice, Gege.”

His voice was a teasing reminder.

“So… am I the challenger?” He looked up, catching Hua Cheng’s eyes already watching him, light and amused.

“If you like.” He shook the dice in the cup, not enough to tip them but enough that they bounced off the sides, sliding against the soft, fabric-lined inside.

“It’s hardly good practice betting if I don’t make a wager.” Xie Lian said, watching the minute flex of Hua Cheng’s hand. “Shouldn’t I try practicing that, too? I have a lot more coin than normal thanks to my generous host.”

“Ah, but I’m afraid your money’s no good here.” Hua Cheng informed him mournfully. “Even after you learn the game, no croupier will take a cent from you.”

“San Lang.” Xie Lian protested. “I’m just like anyone else here.”

“If you ever come here alone, talk with a greeter.” Hua Cheng countered. “They’ll give you enough to play with, and more if you run out.”

“That seems incredibly unfair.”

“Does it? I don’t make the rules, Gege.” Said the ghost who absolutely did make the rules. His mouth was split in challenge, a grin with the hint of sharp teeth.

“Hm,” Xie Lian said, ignoring him for now. “If not money, then… you say you can eat human food for the taste?”

“Gege saw earlier.” Hua Cheng reminded him, and Xie Lian nodded, hardly able to believe his own daring. He fidgeted with the hem of his robe.

“Well then… I’m never… You see, I’ve only ever heard bad things about the taste, I’ll warn you now, but…”

“But?” Hua Cheng prompted. Xie Lian swallowed hard.

He forced a laugh.

“I’ve always loved cooking for people, and rarely had the chance to do so.” He said shyly. “Maybe I could bet a home-cooked meal for San Lang?”

As soon as he managed the words, he realized what he’d said, and clamped his mouth shut.

“Ah, never mind, ignore me, ignore me!” he waved his hands in the air. “You don’t even need food, why would you…”

“Deal.” Hua Cheng said, without preamble. “And I’ll bet the same, of course.”

“You already feed me, though!” Xie Lian’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve done nothing but feed me, actually, this whole time.” Every moment he’d spent in Paradise Manor, a veritable feast had been presented before him.

“And Gege has fed this one, just as well.” Hua Cheng countered, voice a low, dark murmur. His eyebrow raised pointedly.

Xie Lian felt his face heat up even more. He raised a finger to scratch at his cheek.

“Besides, those meals were prepared by the manor’s servants.” Hua Cheng said, moving things along. “This bet is for a meal cooked with my own hands. Pray Gege tell me his favorite foods, hmm?”

“You might not even win, San Lang.” Xie Lian chastened, jerking his gaze away from the other’s hands– but not quite daring to look at his face again. His eyes settled on the curve of Hua Cheng’s throat, the jut of it as he swallowed. “Shouldn’t I also be asking about your favorites?”

Something passed between them, electric. Xie Lian followed the long line of his throat up to his strong jaw, the dangerous lips– and up further, finally meeting his eyes.

Surely he’s not so shameless as to…?

“Gege already is my favorite.” Hua Cheng said, smiling so much it shows all his teeth as he teases. “But that’s not a prepared meal.”

The side of Xie Lian’s neck burned, where he’d fed Hua Cheng.

“Better than your blood wine?” He asked, curious and unable to help himself. Hua Cheng’s breath caught, as he moved a little closer.

“Yes.”

His pupils were wide and black, overtaking the red like an eclipse. For a moment they just stared, equally captivated, and then Hua Cheng swallowed raggedly and looked away.

Xie Lian felt like a weight had been removed from his chest, and the atmosphere became a lot lighter, as Hua Cheng knocked his knee purposefully against Xie Lian’s.

“Highs or lows, Gege?” He asked, clearing his throat. “Don’t worry, this round is just for practice. We’ll use the next round for the real bet.”

Xie Lian took a moment to catch his thoughts. Now Hua Cheng was properly shaking the cup, palm capping it, his long fingers reaching down the sides.

“Lows.” He was pretty confident, actually! Xie Lian had only ever rolled snake-eyes in his entire life.

Hua Cheng’s hand shifted, releasing the cup. The dice poured out onto the table– Alas! His bad luck was stronger than the game of chance. When Xie Lian needs a low score, he naturally receives a high one– the only way Xie Lian can ever get strong numbers in a game of chance.

A four and a five look back at him, the pips sitting innocently.

“So four and above are ‘high’, right?”

“Just so, Gege. I would have won, if this were a real round.”

“What happens if they’re very different– a one and a six, for example?” His shoulder pressed a little into Hua Cheng’s chest as he leaned across him and the other man opted to remain reclined.

“We rely on the sum. If there are two dice, the maximum is twelve. Therefore, a low number is a total of six or below.”

“So, a one and a six– that’s seven.”

“Yes, Gege. A seven would be ‘high’.” His clever hands scooped up the dice, securing them back into the shaker. He swirled them around uncovered, to and fro, to and fro.

“Let’s do another practice round, hmm?” Before he could say anything, Hua Cheng covered the lid and gave it a thorough toss. Once, twice, and then they spill again. This time he left the cup covering them, the clatter against the wooden table the only sign that the die had been cast, and waited.

“Highs.” Xie Lian said, realizing what Hua Cheng wanted. The other dutifully lifted the cup and revealed the play.

“Rats.” Xie Lian laughed, amused. “If I want low, it’s high. If I want high, it’s low. My luck is at least predictable.”

“And my luck is usually quite good.” Hua Cheng told him. “Actually, when we get to the wager, I’m not sure if it would be lucky to win, or lucky to lose. Either I get to cook for you, or I get to eat Gege’s cooking. No real downside here.”

“A beggar has better luck than me.” Xie Lian said, shaking his head. “So whatever you like more, that’ll be the outcome. Betting against me is a sure win.”

“With the terms of our wager, there’s no way to lose.” Hua Cheng pointed out, grinning again. “Does Gege want to try shaking them?”

“I don’t think it will help.” Xie Lian said, jaded.

“Just for fun, then.”

Laughter was startled out of Xie Lian. His hands moved forward to take the cup, and his breath caught when their fingers intertwined briefly. Hua Cheng stroked along the back of his knuckles, encouraging. Xie Lian shivered.

“You’ll have to show me how.” He insisted.

“Of course.” Hua Cheng breathed, sitting forward a bit. Their shoulders touched and stayed, leaning a bit of weight into each other. From hip to thigh, they were touching. It was– distracting.

Xie Lian was so distracted.

Hua Cheng’s hands came around his, tethering him to reality. They were a bit cool, and very soft, but warmed up the longer they were touching Xie Lian’s. Slowly, they guided Xie Lian through the motions, how to tilt the cup to get the best rattle of dice, how to cover the opening so nothing spills out.

His thumbs slid up and down Xie Lian’s, reassuring and damning all at once. Xie Lian looked up at his eyes, his fair face, and was so caught that he didn’t remember the game until Hua Cheng’s fingers guided him into spilling their bounty.

“High or low, Gege?” He asked, quietly.

It didn’t really matter. Xie Lian would love to cook for him, but to have someone else– to have loving hands make a meal for him, when he has known so much hunger and loneliness, to have someone set a place for him, to want him around, to open a home to him–

Hua Cheng can’t feed Xie Lian as directly as Xie Lian can feed the vampire, but it doesn’t stop the image from jumping to mind, of his long, pale throat under Xie Lian’s teeth, a harsh groan as Xie Lian bites, the sweet rush of blood.

“Low.” Xie Lian said, as he was brought low by impossible longing, and Hua Cheng guided Xie Lian’s hands away from the cup but did not release them, their hands twined together in the air above.

They had to lift the cup to check the score. It was the natural conclusion of this, the logical next step. He didn’t know how to move forward if they didn’t.

But, abruptly, he didn’t want to.

In the past, what Xie Lian wanted hardly mattered. Not wanting a thing had no effect on what would happen. Actually, it increased the odds– if Xie Lian let himself want, he’d be disappointed. If he begged for mercy from fate or fortune, he’d be subjected to every torment.

Staring across from Hua Cheng, throat tight, he felt something dangerous kick in his chest. His lips trembled with it.

“Gege?” Hua Cheng murmured, no hurry in his tone. His thumb stroked smooth and slow over Xie Lian’s knuckles, as though he would pause in this moment forever if Xie Lian wished.

As if Xie Lian’s wishes mattered.

As if he would give Xie Lian anything he wanted, if only Xie Lian would dare voice the desire.

Believing that, standing firm in the face of it, was the hardest thing Xie Lian had done in a long time. Part of him wanted to run in terror. The rest of him was already speaking.

“What if we don’t look?” He asked, in a rush. His hands trembled. Hua Cheng’s grip tightened slightly, not painful but comforting instead. He didn’t try to move or pull away.

“Then we don’t look.” Hua Cheng said simply. “Whatever Gege wants.”

A corner of Xie Lian’s brain started screaming, gibbering like a traumatized child, and he forced himself to take a deep breath.

The words still rushed out of him.

“San Lang, what if we– what if we do both?” He would have wrung his hands if they were free. Instead, he looked down, hardly daring he could be so bold. Xie Lian didn’t ask for things! Life had taught him what the answer would always, always be.

No winning, no losing. Not up to chance. Doing something just because they want to, because they can. Having his cake and eating it, too.

Hua Cheng’s hands were warm. Xie Lian’s heart pounded in his chest, loud, demanding.

“Gege, that’s fine.” He pulled away, a little, and Xie Lian couldn’t help but tense– yet Hua Cheng was only shifting their grip, sliding his fingers in between Xie Lian’s until they were holding hands properly, the other dropping to his lap.

Xie Lian squeezed and Hua Cheng squeezed back, without hesitation. Hua Cheng glanced over, and his eyes flared briefly red. When Xie Lian followed his sightline, he saw– nothing.

No table, no cup. No dice hidden beneath. Just empty space and their legs stretching out, swathed in red and white and so close their knees bumped.

“Don’t worry,” Hua Cheng said, entreating. He brought their joined hands up until the back of Hua Cheng’s hand was in front of his face, knuckles brushing Xie Lian’s cheek.

“It’s okay. Praying Gege doesn’t think me selfish to offer to cook first.” He grins. “Then I get Gege’s handmade food.”

“Both?” Xie Lian asked, just to be sure.

“Mn.” Hua Cheng agreed. “Tonight? Gege just needs to tell me what he wants.”

“Nothing special.” Xie Lian managed, voice still hushed and a bit hoarse. It was a whisper between them. “Something simple. A stirfry, maybe.”

“Done.” Hua Cheng said, leaning in. He kept the back of his hand to Xie Lian’s cheek, but rose the unencumbered hand to brush hair back from Xie Lian’s face, tucking it behind his ear.

6. Comfort Food

Watching Hua Cheng cook was like watching a master chef putting on a show in a high-class restaurant. He played it up for his audience of one, embellishing his movements and adding extra flourish whenever possible.

It reminded Xie Lian of his time busking, and the more skilled street performers, of their enviable showmanship, and masterful sleight of hand making it look more like magic.

Hua Cheng looked at Xie Lian more than his own actions, blindly cracking an egg by tossing it up and catching it with the blade of his knife. He winks.

If Xie Lian tried that, they’d be having Egg Shell Soup! He laughed, which only seemed to encourage the ghost king. He was cooking on a large slab of metal or stone, more akin to an unusually large anvil than any stove Xie Lian was familiar with.

No wood or gas seemed to be powering it, yet Hun Cheng had several separate piles of food cooking at clearly different heat settings.

“I can barely stir-fry in one wok.” Xie Lian told him, head propped on one hand as he watched from the adjourning counter.

“Gege sells himself short,” Hua Cheng disagreed, shooting him a flirty glance. He bent back to his work and applied a hearty amount of some liquid. Before Xie Lian could divine its properties, Hua Cheng looked up once more. His lips quirked in a flitting, offered smile–

–then he blew a kiss.

Fire rushed along the path of the kiss, flaring up a brilliant blue on its way to Xie Lian. It overcame a selection of seared vegetables, sizzling audibly, and the edges of it almost reached Xie Lian’s arms before dying down.

“Silver, sunlight, now fire…” Xie Lian reached out to see how warm it was, or if the flames were more illusion than substance. To his surprise, it was plenty warm, but didn’t burn. The flames rose a few inches to meet him as if eager. “Does San Lang have any normal ghost weaknesses?”

“Mm, not really. Like I said– the ashes, and the eye.” He held up one hand and covered his right eye with his palm, grinning. Xie Lian’s stomach rumbled. “Not too much longer now, Gege.”

He flipped a healthy serving of rice with one large spatula, over and over again to prevent it from sticking.

Xie Lian leant more of his weight forward on his hand, the sleeve of his robe falling down to pool around his elbow. He drew his fingers playfully through the fire the way he’d tease a kitten, the flames chasing them.

“Are you really blind in one eye? It doesn’t look any different.” Xie Lian kept his eyes ducked to save face, even as he warred with his own curiosity to the point of rudeness. The person across from him was so interesting. Days of companionship had not taken the edge off; worse, time seemed to have made him more alluring, more tempting.

“I wouldn’t lie to Gege.” Hua Cheng said simply. “This form I’m wearing… isn’t my true appearance.”

His lips pursed briefly.

“In my true form, I wear an eye patch to cover it. It’s unsightly.”

Xie Lian made a noise before he could help himself. He drew his fingers away from the fire and looked at them, inspecting for hidden burns. Nothing; pure unblemished skin. The fire disappeared as if it was only there to entertain him.

“You’ve said before that you’re a shapeshifter.” Xie Lian recalled. “Does your true form look very different?”

Hua Cheng did not seem disturbed by this line of questioning. He continued cooking with a casual ease.

“… Not too much.” He admitted, a touch wry. “I’m smaller in this skin. Shorter. My hair is lighter and thinner, too.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Xie Lian looked away, face heating a little as he imagined… A ghost king several inches taller, wider about the chest and shoulders. Darker hair that would not be confined in such a small elastic as Hua Cheng used in this form.

“No, I don’t mind.” Hua Cheng said. The casual way he tossed the food around, with as deft a hand as any street-food performer, abruptly reached a crescendo. He flowed from one quick snap of the wrist into another, and suddenly the rice and meat and vegetables were plated onto a steaming dish and displayed to Xie Lian with a dramatic tilt.

It allowed Hua Cheng to leave the area of the stove without worrying about the food burning in his absence, which was a bit alarming; suddenly, Hua Cheng could move with ease, and was no longer confined to one space.

He danced around the counter and placed the food in front of Xie Lian at the counter, sliding his own meal to the spot adjacent like an afterthought. Hua Cheng produced a pair of chopsticks out of nowhere and slid them carefully into Xie Lian’s hand. His touch was warm from the heat of the stove and the steam from the fresh plates wafted up.

“I’d show you, if you asked.” Hua Cheng said, leaning in. “If you want to see, then I want to show you.”

“San Lang.” Xie Lian breathed, as the ghost adopted a crooked, inviting smile. “You don’t have to do things just because I want them.”

Hua Cheng hummed noncommittally, easing back and settling into his own stool. He wasn’t close enough to touch on accident, but their sleeves would brush when their elbows moved.

He produced a pair of chopsticks of his own and took a pointed bite, making a small noise of appreciation. His eyes did not leave Xie Lian’s, twinkling. Xie Lian took his unsubtle meaning and dived into his own food, heart feeling warm and too big for his chest.

—

They ate together, not in silence but in good food and better company, while Xie Lian spoke excitedly of what he could prepare when it was his turn to cook.

“Do you want breakfast, San Lang?” He asked, eager for the morning if it meant feeding his host. Well– not like that! Hua Cheng’s voice saying ‘Not as nice as Gege, of course’ struck through him like a bell. Xie Lian took a hurried drink of water, draining half of his glass in one go.

“Breakfast, lunch, dinner.” Hua Cheng waved a negligent hand. “Whichever Gege prefers is fine.”

“What if I’m a terrible cook?” Xie Lian asked, amused. Really, some of the reviews of the years had been…. Less than favorable.

“It’s fine.” Hua Cheng said. “Really, if it’s Gege… if it’s made by your hands, I promise I’ll love it.”

The words from the gambling hall again. If it’s Gege, it’s fine. And before, too! When gentle hands brushed his damp hair and pressed secrets into his calloused palms. It’s fine if it’s you.

Unprompted, another image came to mind. Xie Lian’s protests about the quality of the meal and Hua Cheng’s words taken another way: if it– the meal— is Gege… then it’s fine. Hua Cheng in his mind’s eye sliding hair away from his throat with a hungry, half-lidded gaze.

Xie Lian shoved a large serving of rice into his mouth and chewed. The true Hua Cheng across from him, dappled in spring’s youth and autumn’s colors, laughed gaily.

“Slow down, it’s not going anywhere.” Hua Cheng gestured and Xie Lian’s water glass was refilled by a wispy ghost, gone again before Xie Lian could turn his head fully. “What did Gege want to make for breakfast?”

Something about it… eating dinner, going to bed, waking up and cooking together again…. Wasn’t it too much? Xie Lian knew better than to press his nonexistent luck, and yet he was fully leaning into all that the ghost king offered.

“I don’t even know what ingredients San Lang has on hand.” He said, drinking more. If his fingers were tight on the glass, well. At least they weren’t trembling.

“We can look together in the morning, then.” Hua Cheng promised. “If you need something extra, a servant will fetch it.”

Xie Lian sputtered, already trying to talk him down from excess: “Whatever’s already here is fine!”

Hua Cheng smiled at him.

Sometimes, it seemed like no matter what he did or said, Hua Cheng was smiling at him.

What a happy, easy going person…

But that felt disingenuous. And untrue. It was unfair to Hua Cheng, who clearly had more facets than even a princely cut ruby, complex and captivating and… interesting.

Xie Lian was helplessly interested.

“You’ll have to tell me your favorite… I mean, what you like.” Xie Lian swerved hard at Hua Cheng’s raised eyebrow, the smoky voice in his memory teasing: Gege already is my favorite.

Shamelessly said, without a hint of embarrassment, and now bringing it up again!

“Human food doesn’t nourish me, so the taste is kind of…” Hua Cheng swayed his hand back and forth. Xie Lian’s eyes caught on long, clever fingers… He pulled his gaze back up. “The more interesting the taste, the better. Texture, as well. I like when it leans to extremes. Spicy, sweet, sour, salty… strong contrasts are good, too.”

Xie Lian stared at him, and couldn’t help but laugh loudly, delighted.

“You might be the only person in the whole world who’ll enjoy my cooking, by that metric!”

“Good.” Hua Cheng said, somewhat savagely. His grin showed teeth. “If I’m the only one… that’s good. More for me.”

Hua Cheng exhaled sharply, taking in Xie Lian’s rapt attention. His fierceness dimmed. He offered a small smile.

“Ah, Gege. You shouldn’t cook for people who don’t appreciate it, anyway. For me… food cooked from the heart is holy.”

“‘Bad’, ‘horrible’, ‘surely poisonous’…” Xie Lian ducked his head. “People say a lot of things about my cooking, but never anything like that.”

“People are stupid.” Hua Cheng proclaimed, immediately dismissive of all such opinions. “I can’t wait to try food cooked by Gege’s own hands. It’ll be the highlight of my existence.”

“Surely not.” Xie Lian laughed at the obvious hyperbole. Then, peeking up under his lashes, he grinned: “Besides, if it’s bad.. You can always have me for dessert.”

The sconces flared, ghostly fires jumping up.

“Nnrg.” Hua Cheng’s chopsticks snapped in his hand, wood splinters raining over his plate. He visibly tried to say ‘Gege’ but managed only “Guh.”

Xie Lian did not wave his hands nor apologize, because the mischief was for once intentional on his part. He simply grinned, triumphant.

“Mean.” Hua Cheng accused, when he could speak again. “Gege is so cruel to his San Lang.”

His voice lilted mournfully, but the words were pink and soft in Xie Lian’s chest.

Xie Lian took another sip of water, lips turned up around the rim of his glass. He hummed without comment.

“Killing me.” Hua Cheng decided. “Killing your poor ghost king.”

Your. Xie Lian curled his hands around his glass, pleased.

Xie Lian snorted. He bit his lip to keep from teasing back, perhaps something about a ghost already being dead.

“I see how it is. You already got your meal out of me, so now you have no need of poor San Lang anymore.” He put a pale hand over his heart.

“San Lang.” Xie Lian finally said, pressing laughter into the side of his hand. He set the cup down but kept his hand over his mouth, giggling.

Hua Cheng leaned over, tugging Xie Lian’s hand away to see his face– his smile. He did not lean back when his task was accomplished, nor did he let go of Xie Lian’s hand, now his prize.

He slid their fingers together instead, tugging lightly as he stood.

“Is Gege done eating?” He asked.

Xie Lian looked down in surprise to find that, yes, his plate was empty.

“If you’re still hungry, you can have the rest of mine.”

Looking back, he saw the Hua Cheng’s portion of the food only half eaten. Xie Lian shook his head, allowing himself to be guided onto his feet.

“Oh, you didn’t finish? It was so tasty, though, didn’t you like it?”

“Well enough.” Hua Cheng shrugged. “Like I told you, it’s not really food for me.”

To Xie Lian, however… knowing he’d just ate his fill and yet Hua Cheng could stand up from the same table and still be hungry…

It was intolerable.

“Then, shouldn’t I–?” Biting his lip, Xie Lian did not drop Hua Cheng’s hand; instead, with the other, he began gathering his hair to one side.

“No!”

A strong hand captured his wrist, stopping him at once. For a heartbeat they stood, one set of hands clasped together, fingers loosely interwoven, and the other a firm shackle.

“No.” Hua Cheng said, quieter. He inhaled sharply and stepped back, dropping Xie Lian’s wrist.

He tried to pull his other hand away as well, but Xie Lian held fast, and instead let himself be pulled close again by the tug to their clasped palms. He dropped his other hand to Hua Cheng’s shoulder, stepping into him further.

“Why not?” He demanded.

Hua Cheng met turmoil with sweetness, lifting their joined hands until he could kiss the back of Xie Lian’s chastely, a dry, soft brush of his mouth.

Xie Lian wet his lips, feeling weightless.

“No need.” Hua Cheng said, gently. “What you already gave me was enough.”

“You don’t want any more?” Xie Lian asked, blinking stupidly.

Hua Cheng’s eyes flashed very red, a crimson so deep it suddenly wasn’t hard at all to see how he got his moniker. His jaw went tight, and the torches burned brighter for a long moment. He swallowed.

Xie Lian’s eyes traced the bob of his throat.

“I don’t need blood so often as you need food, Gege.” He murmured, squeezing Xie Lian’s fingers in assurance.

The ghost fire lighting the room flickered in dawn’s hues on pale skin, phantom pinks and purples dipping down into the vibrant colors of the ghost king’s collar.

Xie Lian bit his lip, looking away. Isn’t it… kind of sad, to only eat when you need to? He has known hunger as vast and as all consuming as anything. These past few days, eating at his leisure, eating side by side with San lang… hasn’t something unraveled in him? Some hard note of wretchedness that had settled into his bones, in the endless stretch of days knowing the times his belly would be full would always be few and far between?

It’ll surely come back, the cold and practical knot of expectation that steels him against the horrors of immortality, that allows him to face misery without flinching, but for now… for now he could allow warmth into his bones, the tight pinch of a clamped-shut flower cautiously unfurling into the sun which briefly peaked through the dark clouds.

It hadn’t been easy, building up a sort-of numbness to the daily horrors, but it had come as a means of survival. Well. Mental survival, at least. There’s an important distinction to make regarding Xie Lian’s eternity:

It’s not that he can’t die. It’s that he always comes back.

And so finding these moments to let down his guard, to care about things and people, to find beauty in the world.. to allow the pseudo-feeling of safety where he can… it’s just as important as the defenses he’s built up against pain.

Every stale bun is a blessing, the burst of flavors on his tongue; every drop of rain creating sweet smells in the dust, quenching more than just thirst when he turns his face to the sky, every innocent creature making its nest and its home, every flower growing with no other care than to be a flower and be beautiful in the sun.

It’s all so very, very important, when you will live forever.

Xie Lian blurted out: “Immortals don’t need to eat, either. Most immortals. I need to, because of my… circumstances.”

Hua Cheng’s eyes darkened, and Xie Lian couldn’t help but lay a hand on his cheek, saying, intently: “But San lang, we still eat. For the pleasure and for the company of it. Like you and me at the shop earlier. You can eat human food for the taste, right?”

“Right.” Hua Cheng acknowledged. “So, San Lang can just enjoy human food that way in the future. For the taste, not the nutrition, same as the gods. Gege need not worry.”

But for Xie Lian… that wasn’t not enough. Conflicted, and very aware of the hypocrisy, he said: “Why deny yourself? Isn’t it… nice?”

San lang sighed softly, reading the question behind the question there. He leaned into the hand cupping his cheek, like a cat into a sunbeam.

“Gege. It’s so nice.” He said, eyes fluttering closed before opening once more, latching onto Xie Lian’s in their fiery light. “But… not necessary.”

Xie lian stepped closer, breathing the same air. His voice was quiet. “It’s no way to live, only doing what’s absolutely necessary to survive.”

He would know.

“Gege.” San Lang nuzzled into his touch, seemingly at a loss for words, but still protesting.

“Don’t you want to feel good?” Xie Lian challenged, a bold softness right in Hua Cheng’s face, the tones of dawn soft across his cheekbones and eyes fixed to Hua Cheng’s.

Hua Cheng was stricken, mouth dropping to a soft part.

Xie Lian, abruptly, flushed a bright red and leans back. Hua Cheng almost stopped him, kept him close– but as always, he lets Xie Lian go where he will, even if it’s leaning away from him. He simply makes sure to follow.

He followed now, taking a step to keep them close while allowing the distance Xie Lian wants.

“Ah, I’m so silly. You must think… well, all the things you said last time.” Xie Lian could hardly think about it without feeling breathless. The bite itself had been euphoric, but the words afterward…

“Gege need not be afraid of his reactions.” San Lang murmured in his sweet, lilting tone, voice like a caress. “It felt good for us both last time, didn’t it? Your body’s physical response is only to be expected.”

“Physical response?” Xie Lian said back, uncomprehending. Then, with horror: “San lang!”

Mortification was strong in his tone and his hands scrunched in San lang fine robes.

A soft chuckle.

“Didn’t I say? It’s natural.” San Lang said simply, without judgment or leering. “Just part of being human, Gege.”

Not for me! Xie Lian didn’t shout, didn’t allow the words to escape, but hysteria rose in him. Not for four centuries!

“Neither of us are human” He managed to choke out.

Hua Cheng brushed hair behind his ear, watching him with the slightly fond expression and softness around his lips that was too relaxed to be a smile.

“And yet we both are.”

That struck Xie Lian somewhere behind his ribs, a dazzling sentiment, and his lips pressed together to keep from saying anything too foolish or idealistic. He could only look back with wonder at his companion. His eyes drifted over his face, taking in his fine and familiar features, and finally to the plush redness of his mouth, twin strokes of bold vermillion painted by a master’s hand.

They parted around a dazzling smile as Hua Cheng spoke.

“Gege can’t possibly think I mind.” He demurred, rubbing his thumb across Xie Lian’s cheek, still in that unhurried tone, no trace of censure in his expression. Only open and curious conversation, as though anything Xie Lian said or did was fine.

Gege minds, Xie Lian thought reflexively, again with the high pitch of desperation or maybe hysterics, but he clearly didn’t mind enough to protest. The little glimpse of teeth he saw was enough to make his breath catch, to lean in a little. He remembered how it felt. How he’d… wanted that again.

He could have it now.

The thought was dizzying. He was sure he had reasons not to but he couldn’t quite recall them. It all seemed so simple in Hua Cheng’s arms like this. Everything was possible, all things permitted.

Like no paths were bound.

It was so novel, so inviting a feeling he found himself halfway down the path before he had even considered it, hand slipping down until it trailed over neck and dark hair to rest on Hua Cheng’s shoulder, the other coming up to lie across his forearm.

Like it was that easy.

“Then,” He said, releasing his lip from the shy press of teeth and leaning closer, “Ah, San Lang. If it would feel good for both of us, shouldn’t we…?”

His courage ran out halfway through, feeling awkward.

The brush of knuckles against his cheek turned into a press of thumbprint, Hua Cheng cupping his face, fingers wrapping into his hair.

“Dianxia.” He said, voice dark silk. “Do you want it?”

Xie Lian had faced so many centuries of not getting what he wanted, of forcing himself to find joy in what little he stumbled upon, the little wonders he sometimes had to claw, kick and scream to appreciate. To make it enough.

Wanting was so very dangerous when you couldn’t have anything, when everything you dare to love slipped through your fingers like ashes.

“Yes” Xie Lian admitted, heart pounding sforzando in his chest, and closed his eyes tightly.

Hua Cheng rewarded his whisper with a quiet, ragged inhale. His fingers trembled against Xie Lian’s skin.

His hand slid down very slowly to caress Xie Lian’s neck, perfectly opposite the last bite. Remembering how that had started, the initial flare of heat…

Xie Lian bit his lip again.

“Here?” Hua Cheng asked, almost too quiet to parse.

“That works.” Xie Lian managed over the clench in his throat, the tension when Hua Cheng stroked the site with his thumb.

Goosebumps slid over his entire body. Last time, he hadn’t thought to notice how Hua Cheng’s lips feel against his skin beforehand, too focused on the bite itself. Now it was all he could think about.

He’d thought it innocent, then. Just feeding someone who was hungry. Just the necessary price to stay with San Lang a few hours longer, to enjoy his company. Now… knowing that they’re doing this for the sheer pleasure of it…

It didn’t feel like that. It felt…

Xie Lian couldn’t lie to himself, when they drug it out into the open. He’d never done anything like this.

Hua Cheng didn’t ask him if he’s sure, for which Xie Lian ws grateful. He took the yes for what it was. And when he pressed closer, their faces coming close enough to almost touch, he looked as overwhelmed as Xie Lian felt. That was somehow reassuring. That was… yes, this would feel good for both of them. Yes, it was also new for both of them.

That knowledge was what made it easy for Xie Lian to swallow and nod, encouraging. If they stepped off this cliff together, then it wasn’t scary any more, was it?

Hua Cheng’s vermillion eyes shut as he exhaled, and Xie Lian could feel the breath mingle with his own, felt it, cool, against his lips. He stopped breathing for a long moment.

He leaned in just a little closer, nose trailing down Xie Lian’s cheek, and then along the line of his jaw. From one ear to the other, until his mouth was above Xie Lian’s neck; then lower, until it rested right where his thumb had traced.

His lips were like a trail of fire the whole path down, brushing almost without touching the column of Xie Lian’s neck. When he replaced his thumb with his mouth, Xie Lian was so tense he could hardly stand it.

“Relax, Gege.” Hua Cheng implored, a rumble of smoke. His lips teased against skin with the words, and Xie Lian could feel every syllable. Relax!? It was all he could do not to chant the ethics sutra aloud, in the strong, droning voice of his first teachers!

“I don’t know how.” He laughed, and the laugh was an awkward, bobbing thing, a newborn duck capsizing on its first swim.

Hua Cheng’s hot breath sent a fresh wave of shivers over him, the corner of his neck and shoulder suddenly the most sensitive part of his body. Hua Cheng was still holding his shoulder; he’d moved his hand out of the way, but not far. His thumb now rubs small, reassuring circles into Xie Lian’s trapezius.

“Breathe.” Hua Cheng suggested. “With me. Like this.”

Xie Lian thought he was going crazy before, but Hua Cheng’s purposeful, exaggerated breath hitting his skin, as burning and life-altering as a brand… He couldn’t quite match the pace, at first, because it took him a half-second to shiver and react before he remembered he was supposed to echo the ghost.

He could feel the curve of Hua Cheng’s smile, pressed into his skin, and it somehow became his favorite thing; better even than seeing it so close; to actually feel it!

“San Lang.” He complained, absolutely breathless despite the meditative breathing.

“Does Gege want to pull my hair again?” He teased, pressing a soft kiss purposefully as punctuation. Xie Lian’s breath caught, but then his hand was winding into the dark hair, unable to resist the invitation, the urge to tease back.

It was worth it for the way Hua Cheng inhaled unsteadily, for the way the light grip suddenly had Xie Lian moored steady, centered and strong.

“San Lang, bite.” He ordered, unsure if he could take any more of this teasing, and gave a little tug to make himself known. Hua Cheng made a small sound, all vowel, and laid another kiss like a flower at Xie Lian’s feet, like an offering at his altar.

He didn’t make Xie Lian ask again.

A sharp gasp drew out of him and his hands clenched tightly, but Hua Cheng didn’t seem to mind. Teeth parted his skin and Xie Lian’s mouth dropped open, suddenly breathless.

Hua Cheng groaned into the bite, noise pressed into Xie Lian’s neck and into his blood. It felt good.

“San Lang, it feels so good,” Xie Lian gasped, toes curling. He half-bent around Hua Cheng, holding him down, pulling his hair. He’d stop, he really would, but Hua Cheng shuddered against him and made a desperate little sound, pressing closer. One hand stayed on Xie Lian’s shoulder, keeping him close, and the other wound around his waist, pulling his body into Hua Cheng’s.

Xie Lian laughed, entirely winded, like he’d been rolling in the grass like a child. Like a teenager, maybe, with the slender body of Hua Cheng rolling around with him, sweet grass in their hair and wind carrying it and the sound of their joy. He wanted to push Hua Cheng into the soft meadowed carpet, keep him still with his body, taste the summer on his lips.

“Oh,” Xie Lian gasped, “Oh, oh, San Lang.”

It took work but Xie Lian gentled his hands, turning the desperate clench around dark hair into something sweeter, more cradling than anything, and was rewarded with Hua Cheng trembling against him.

He felt every millimeter of the fangs drawing out of him, of Hua Cheng pulling back from the bite and not going far. The first suck left Xie Lian jerking harshly, panting. He grit his teeth and whined.

It was so good, how was it so good? The mouth at his throat was like a brand, changing him, marking him. Fire licked along his nerves, stroking up and down his spine like a lover might, sending harsh notes of pleasure all through him.

His lips burned and his throat burned and his chest burned, like carelessly tossed embers setting his sweet glade on fire, and the lines of it converge down his belly and…

Xie Lian felt it, this time. It was a slow process, despite the overwhelming heat, the pleasure that slammed into him like a blow as Hua Cheng’s tongue and mouth pulled, one decadent mouthful after another. He arched into it, supported by Hua Cheng’s arm around his waist, pressing the front of their robes together.

It was slow, but color flooded Xie Lian’s cheeks because it was also inevitable. He could only gasp and swallow and burn, as Hua Cheng drank, and Xie Lian got hard from it.

Mortification rocked through him, carried by fire. He was torn between yanking Hua Cheng closer and pushing him away in his embarrassment. At least last time he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t had to be aware, every single second.

Just as it was reaching a fever point, as he really thinks he couldn’t handle one more second, and his worry that Hua Cheng would feel it, as close as they were, overcame the pleasure of the bite itself–

Hua Cheng ripped himself away with a raspy inhale and said, “Gege, me too.”

His voice was like gravel dragged across an open wound, willing Xie Lian to understand, and suddenly the hard line of his excitement was not so terrible, because Hua Cheng was just as hard against his thigh, a hot heavy pressure that stole every breath of air from Xie Lian’s lungs.

Xie Lian melted into it. A wrecked sound trembled out of his throat, and he pulled Hua Cheng back down to drink. It was like wanting the bite in the first place, wasn’t it? Like having the gall to ask for it: if it felt good for both of them, shouldn’t they let themselves have it?

He moaned and Hua Cheng groaned into the mess at his throat, cleaning it up before latching on again. Somehow, it was more, so much more intense when his blood was already pumping with static jolts of pleasure and raw adrenaline.

Hua Cheng tried to pull away and Xie Lian didn’t let him, unwilling to stop again, greedily held his head close. Hua Cheng groaned into his skin and it vibrated through Xie Lian and his eyes were wide, wide and his breathing was ragged with it.

“It’s good.” He gasped, reassuring. “Don’t stop.”

Hua Cheng slurred “Gege,” into his skin, a complaint and a prayer, half begging, and Xie Lian tightened his fingers in Hua Cheng’s hair, pressing his mouth closer.

Fangs touch against the wound again, not quite biting but agitating the edges, and the next suck is heavenly, sets Xie Lian’s every vein alight. Sound falls from his mouth in helpless waves, reactionary and invocative.

“Yes, San Lang– yes.” Xie Lian heaved him closer, chasing more, pressing their chests tight together. Their legs tangled. Xie Lian was– perhaps too enthusiastic.

Hua Cheng jerked against him, lips smearing (red, red, red) against his neck and catching against the corner of his robes. It would probably stain. They overbalanced right onto the nearby couch. It was really more of an oversized settee, perhaps, but such considerations were rather beneath Xie Lian at the moment.

His elbow and then shoulder hit hard, taking his weight, and he shifted and rolled until his hips were righted and his back flat against the cushion. It was just as soft as he imagined.

“Oh,” He gasps, as within instants of landing, Hua Cheng fell too– or, really, they fell together. His weight hit just as awkwardly as Xie Lian’s had, yet instead of the soft fabric of the couch, all his sharp angles hit Xie Lian.

To any martial god, his weight would be negligible. To Xie Lian, the harsh edge of a knee or an elbow was not even bruising. His weight, however, was sweet. Xie Lian softened what bits he can, absorbing impact.

“Unf.” A deep grunt from the ghost king, echoing and probably going to haunt Xie Lian’s dreams at night.

Hua Cheng’s hands came to rest on either side of Xie Lian’s head, catching himself before their faces could knock together painfully, and holding their chests mostly apart. The rest of him, though– the rest of him was cradled by Xie Lian’s body, a weight both welcome and comforting, and he had only a moment to admire the ruby smear of blood across his fine mouth, the wide black pupils outlined in rose.

Xie Lian reached without thought, sliding impatient hands from the fabric of Hua Cheng’s robes to the smooth column of his neck, thumbs sliding against skin, pressing into the hollow of his jaw. His fingertips slid against Hua Cheng’s hair, familiar silk.

And he pulled him in, dragging Hua Cheng’s nose along his cheek and down, until his mouth touched the line of Xie Lian’s jaw, and the man got the idea. He shivered under Xie Lian’s hands and went where the god wanted him, pliant to his touch.

Hua Cheng pressed a kiss to Xie Lian’s jaw, reckless with wanting. His red-painted mouth slid obediently lower, at the urging of insistent hands. He bore his weight on his hands, and the shift of muscle to accommodate the movement was a veritable wave of gentle pressure where they touched– everywhere they touched.

“Dianxia.” Hua Cheng breathed, reverentially. He gasped against the wet area of the bite, and it was Xie Lian’s turn to shiver.

Hua Cheng didn’t pull at the wound itself. Instead, the ghost took the spilled blood with hot, open-mouthed kisses, closing his lips around the tender surrounding skin. Over and over again, he left no place untouched. The soft suck each press ended on was maddening; Xie Lian’s toes curled.

He was so focused on the mouth on his neck that he barely noticed the heat curling in his belly, until his hands found their way to either side of Hua Cheng’s ears, and his hips rolled up, seeking contact. He gasped.

Hua Cheng broke away from him with a curse but didn’t go far, burying his forehead in Xie Lian’s neck with a wet groan. Xie Lian gasped again, rocking his hips. Hua Cheng’s body was a firm line against him, already close, already captured between Xie Lian’s legs. They closed on either side of the ghost, keeping him trapped, and his ass rose from the couch as he–

“Fuck.” Hua Cheng spasmed against him, arms trembling. He lowered himself to his elbows, wrists and forearms both propped up on and holding down Xie Lian’s shoulders. It was perfect; the weight of him was perfect.

Hua Cheng undulated against him in a sharp wave, starting at his arms, which tightened and flexed with the muscles working. His hips slid against Xie Lian’s, grinding them together. Xie Lian rocked clumsily, sloppily into it, nowhere near as graceful. It was decadent, otherworldly. He wanted to flip them around and lose all sense of rhythm, wanted to rub sweaty and hot against the other man until he lost his mind, chasing the pleasure that was ratcheting up in him like a pot set to boil.

“Oh, oh, San Lang!” Xie Lian shivered through a harsh wave of it, clutching back. His fingers had slid a scant few inches back to tangle forcefully in the thick black hair, and Hua Cheng gasped roughly at a tug, thrusting hard against Xie Lian.

The way they fit together was absolutely perfect, the bruise-hard press of cock to cock, the way Hua Cheng settled into the vee of Xie Lian’s lips like twin statues purposefully carved from matching stone.

But stone could never be so animate, alive in the thrill of motion. Xie Lian could not stay still, nor did he want to.

“Lord.” Hua Cheng bit out, moaning in such a low cadence that Xie Lian immediately wanted to hear again and again. He was warm, so impossibly warm against Xie Lian. His lips touched the tender skin of the fresh wound, kissing the ragged edges, and the whisper of pain somehow softened the harshness of the pleasure, made it real, made it something Xie Lian could live through.

He adjusted his grip, treading soft strands until he could find the base of Hua Cheng’s neck and grip there, pull him closer until his hot breath was right to the curve of Xie Lian’s jaw, whine for more.

“Again,” He gasped, choking after a particularly good thrust between them, lost in the slender, mesmerizing body above him, how good Hua Cheng’s muscles felt and looked moving this way–

Hua Cheng stilled against him, inhaling raggedly, and rested his head on Xie Lian’s shoulder. A fine trembling went through all his muscles, so recently admired. He just breathed for long seconds, loud in the room, before he finally pulled away.

“I’m going to go draw Gege another bath.” He managed to say, voice absolutely wrecked, and removed himself to do just that while Xie Lian sat there, dazed and unseeing and harder than he’d ever been in his life.

7. The You In The Mirror

Eventually, he was able to sit up. He straightened his robes.

He could believe himself. Across the room, a fine mirror reflected the state of him: disarrayed, littered with red marks and a faint hint of blood against the side of his throat.

Somehow, when Hua Cheng said “your body’s physical response is to be expected,” Xie Lian doubted he meant that.

However…

Xie Lian’s fingers smeared against the red stain, pulling away a faint pink– very little blood actually remained, so to speak, but last time Hua Cheng had healed the wound completely and left nothing behind.

To think he’d all but fled the room. Xie Lian looked at his wide-eyed reflection and tried to get his thoughts in order, but they were petals in the wind.

It was too much, he thought firmly, waiting for embarrassment to surface, to fill him with regret, or at least shame for how lost he was– how absolutely eager–

But.

Me too, Gege.

Hua Cheng had been just as affected. Just as… hard.

The deep sounds of his pleasure echoed in Xie Lian’s memory, bringing a fresh flush to his skin, and he inhales as carefully as he can.

It was hard to feel ashamed when they were both so wrapped up in how good it felt… so wrapped up in each other.

Xie Lian’s fingers on his neck turned into a caress, ruminating on the sensations, all new and bright. On the way a kiss pressed to the bite-mark had given teeth to the pleasure, made it real, grounded him in his body.

After centuries of death and loneliness, Xie Lian was no stranger to pain. Pleasure like that, however, he’d never met. Sweet, like a dream– and in dreams, all consequences of his actions vanished.

He’d gotten silly on it. It hadn’t felt real.

Until it very much was, and he still didn’t want it to stop.

Xie Lian didn’t look away as the flush rose to his cheeks; he forced his gaze to take in the creature in the mirror, to accept it as himself; a new version he wasn’t familiar with.

Eyes bright, robes wrinkled, cheeks painted as if with the finest rogue, hair coming loose from its arrangement. His lips were even a little swollen from how he’d bitten them!

The full-body sensation of Hua Cheng nudging right into his space, taking all air with him, hit Xie Lian like a sledge hammer; he could imagine it so freely, right down to the the perplexing heat of his skin, the warmth of his breath and lips as he kissed Xie Lian hotly, his teeth tugging instead–

Xie Lian jerked his bottom lip out of his mouth, realizing he’d mirrored the– the fantasy— without thinking. The hand at his neck– his own– had been Hua Cheng’s for just a moment, his already-flushed body willing to believe he was once more engaged in the closeness he’d just lost…

The door opened quietly, a body sweeping through. It was Hua Cheng, of course.

For a moment, Xie Lian thought it was another rush of fantasy; that he’d wanted it so much his mind took another unauthorized trip into the surprisingly vivid realm of waking desire.

“Dianxia.” The ghost said formally, an unfamiliar tightness to his jaw. It was the same address he’d used earlier, as equally overwhelmed with pleasure as Xie Lian was, but spoken now, in this tone… it sounded miserable by comparison.

Xie Lian’s heart fell like a ton of stone.

He was holding a stack of white cotton from which warm air wafted, steam barely visible, the door still open behind him. His body was absolutely stiff, drawn up to his full height, and the tight set of his mouth…

For a moment, their eyes met, and Hua Cheng’s widened noticeably. Xie Lian remembered the creature in the mirror. The embarrassment he had sought earlier slammed into him with the force of a siege weapon, and he looked away sharply, jerking his robes all the way shut.

Humiliation was an old friend. Xie Lian felt more himself than he had in days as he stood and let the familiar self-deprecating smile twist his lips.

Ah. How could he have forgotten? If he’d pulled himself off the ground once to keep walking despite his shameful circumstances, he’d done it a thousand times.

This was much better than most of his life, actually. He was dressed nicely, he was well-fed, he was well-rested… he even had good company, though at the moment facing that ghostly companion was hard.

Paradoxically, it was also easier; looking someone in the face when they’d seen him at his lowest, well, that was normal. It was easier than facing the open strangeness of a fond smile, the unfamiliar joy with which he was usually greeted with.

Who was ever happy to see Xie Lian?

Yes, it was easier, by way of habit, to deal with someone disappointed and disgusted with him; so why did he want that easy openness back? Why did he want to see those lips turned up in happiness, at seeing Xie Lian?

He knew why.

Still, he took a bracing breath and walked over to Hua Cheng. The smile he usually wore in such situations felt forced on his face.

“Ah, San Lang.” He forced a little laugh. “Sorry about that…”

He jerked the smile wider, aware he probably looked deranged.

Hua Cheng dropped the linen. It landed at their feet. Xie Lian caught sight of a robe and two very fluffy towels.

Then he saw red, red eyes as Hua Cheng’s hands reached him, palms warm on his face. His thumbs brushed Xie Lian’s temples.

The smile fell from Xie Lian’s face. He stared.

He couldn’t figure out the expression on Hua Cheng’s young face.

“Gege.” He said, brow wrinkling, and something in Xie Lian’s chest unclenched hard. He almost swayed with it.

“I’m sorry.” Xie Lian gasped, like coming up for air from deep water. His hands flew up to hold onto Hua Cheng’s. What was he doing?

“I don’t. I didn’t. Please stay.” His words didn’t make sense, but desperation stilled his tongue. He’d ruined everything he’d ever touched, but Xie Lian couldn’t tolerate ruining this.

“Gege.” Hua Cheng said, voice cracking. He swallowed. “It’s fine, it’s all fine. I’m right here.”

This time Xie Lian really did sway with relief. Hua Cheng stepped closer, grounding him. Xie Lian closed his eyes against the wave of it.

“I thought I scared you off.” He admitted.

There was a small pause.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Hua Cheng said, and his voice was full of emotion. “Gege. Believe me. I’ll always be right here.”

Xie Lian laughed without humor. He tipped forward and Hua Cheng allowed it, releasing his hold to catch Xie Lian around the shoulders– embracing him, even as Xie Lian pressed his forehead into the ghost’s shoulder, all the energy drained out of him.

“You can’t promise that.” He whispered, utterly exhausted all of a sudden. Then, burying his face further: “Ah, listen to me, being silly.”

He tried to backtrack, but Hua Cheng only hummed into his hair.

“There isn’t a banquet in this world that doesn’t come to an end.” The ghost said quietly, and began a gentle swaying, the rocking carrying them back and forth.

Xie Lian’s breath caught. He’d caught the trace of poetry in Hua Cheng’s words before, the cleverness and intelligence to rival any Civil God. This was different.

“But I will always come back to you.” He murmured, whisper-soft, and stroked the back of Xie Lian’s hair. They moved together for a long time, until Xie Lian’s heart no longer felt like it would squeeze itself to death if he stopped being held, and until he was almost calm.

“What if you didn’t leave to begin with?” Xie Lian dared ask, then.

“Hmm.” Hua Cheng’s voice was more like its normal self, a hint of playfulness returning. Xie Lian had to bury his face deep into the other’s robes to smother a smile. “Well, I’ll try my best.”

Xie Lian realized, at some point, that he’d wrapped his arms around Hua Cheng’s slender waist. Now that he’d noticed, he couldn’t help but squeeze tighter.

“Gege. Gege I’m not going anywhere now.” He managed, laughter undermining his voice.

“Stay forever.” Xie Lian protested, heart thundering anew at his own audacity to voice its unspoken desire.

A brief pause. Xie Lian worried he’d overstepped. Then Hua Cheng tucked his face into the side of Xie Lian’s hair, pressing tight.

“Okay.” He said, with startling ease, and took another little breath. “If you’ll have me.”

Xie Lian could only nod, forehead tucked against collar bone. He wanted to step closer and closer until they were one being, neither able to leave the presence of the other– a true, impossible closeness, without even brief respites to sleep or eat or bathe.

But since it was indeed not possible, and because the thought reminded him, Xie Lian braced himself and stepped the smallest step back.

Still within the confines of Hua Cheng’s arms, and still holding the other man; he was a martial god, but he wasn’t that strong. Perhaps no one was.

“Did you really run a bath while you were gone?” He asked.

A few things flashed across Hua Cheng’s face; his hands moved with the way Xie Lian moved, until they were clasped at the small of Xie Lian’s back.

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go before it cools too much,” He said.

“It won’t cool,” Hua Cheng said. “It’s enchanted.”

“So is the whole Manor.” Xie Lian said wryly. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Hua Cheng laughed.

“Let me show you the way, then.” He offered, tone oh-so-very soft. Xie Lian nodded at once.

Once more, the ghost-fire lanterns were not enough; Hua Cheng lit the halls with glowing wraith butterflies as they passed through, lighting up the air as they sprung into existence, like fireflies at dusk, or stars peppering in through the twilight sky.

“Beautiful.” Xie Lian said, sincerely, and was rewarded with the faintest hint of pink in his ghost’s cheeks, illuminated from above in the light of silver wings.

“Through here.” Hua Cheng said abruptly, gesturing at a doorway that certainly didn’t exist a moment before, shortening their trip on a whim. Xie Lian’s soft laughter filled the hall until he stepped through.

It wasn’t even the same bath chamber as before.

“San Lang is extremely wealthy.” Xie Lian observed, already reaching for the tie in his hair.

“San Lang’s manor is deeply haunted.” Hua Cheng countered back in a murmur. “Allow me…?”

It had been so long since Xie Lian had another’s help dressing or undressing, that he genuinely couldn’t remember it, however formative the memories.

“Okay,” He breathed, and warm hands danced closer, hesitating only briefly before they slid into the clasp of his robes. Hua Cheng’s touch was slow and reverent, but not prurient.

It was as chaste as the fresh snow on the mountain, thorough yet not lingering unduly. Xie Lian relaxed into it, eyes sliding closed.

Soon enough, the last of his layers pooled at his feet, and Hua Cheng made to step away.

Lightning quick, Xie Lian snatched out a hand and captured his sleeve.

Hua Cheng made a choked sound.

Xie Lian’s eyes fluttered open. He slid his fingers from hem to wrist and encircled Hua Cheng’s, pulling the errant hand up to his face. With only a breath of hesitation, he brushed the knuckles against his cheek.

“Stay?” He breathed, summoning all his courage to look at the ghost in his wide, red eyes.

Hua Cheng didn’t respond for a moment, conflict painted clear across his face.

“Please.” Xie Lian said.

“Of course.” Hua Cheng murmured, strangely subdued, and began the clinical and irreverent process of disrobing himself. The difference with how his hands touched Xie Lian and how he handled his own things, his own skin, was night and day.

Xie Lian bit his lip and was moving forward before he could help himself.

“…Dianxia?” A politely confused question, but he had obligingly stopped moving. Xie Lian realized he’d placed a hand on Hua Cheng’s forearm, now divested of his outermost robe.

“Let me.” Xie Lian managed, aware of his cheeks.

Hua Cheng swallowed hard. He nodded mutely.

Xie Lian took his time, mimicking the touch he’d received. He folded each article he removed; he carefully removed every tinkling bit of jewelry, fascinated by the affixation. He was unhurried, respectful… It wasn’t hard to find his hands just as deferencial as Hua Cheng’s had been.

Uncovering Hua Cheng’s body from the many layers was…

It was thrilling and intriguing and incredible all at once. The trust involved was staggering. The person under his hands was someone he respected a great deal. The body he revealed…

“You’re definitely a swordsman.” Xie Lian said, only to flush harder a moment later. “Ah, ignore me.”

“Thank you.” Hua Cheng murmured, eyes closed. “It’s not as evident in this form, actually.”

Xie Lian traced hands over familiar muscles; though Hua Cheng was taller than him, he was built using the same blueprint; wiry and lithe, with the kind of slim musculature that drew the attention of anyone with eyes, even ascetics like himself.

Well.

Xie Lian wasn’t feeling very ascetic, these days.

Anyway!

“I’d like to see it.” He hummed, quietly, curving his hands around a bicep.

“You wouldn’t.” Hua Cheng shivered as his smallclothes were removed. He didn’t move from under Xie Lian’s hands, still and malleable like unmolded clay, ready to take shape at his direction.

“Hm?”

Hua Cheng cleared his throat.

“You wouldn’t like to see. I… my true form is not… the most pleasing.”

“How do you know what pleases me?” Xie Lian countered, a touch waspish, before groaning. “That was out of line, forgive me. I’m sure San Lang is handsome.”

Hua Cheng paused carefully. His hands curved around Xie Lian’s forearms in turn, until they were both standing there, bare and waiting, as they spoke.

“I’ve never been beautiful. Everyone who’s ever seen me thought I was hideous– cursed, unsightly.”

“You’ve been beautiful the whole time I’ve known you.” Xie Lian said, stepping closer. Then, realizing how naked they were, drawing back with a stammer.

“Dianxia is kind to say so.” Hua Cheng ran a hand through his own hair, pushing it back from his forehead. Loose, it flowed around his shoulders and brushed his pectorals in…

Hmm, he was speaking, wasn’t he?

“– get in, yes?”

“As you say.” Xie Lian agreed, mind working overtime to catch up. It was an easy guess, and he stepped over to the pool– for it was very much a pool, this grandiose monstrosity of a bath embellished with bright silver.

Xie Lian climbed in, with the easy confidence of someone who’d worked with a sword or a hoe all his life, and hadn’t been afforded much modesty for most of it.

Hua Cheng followed shortly after.

“Thank you.” Xie Lian said, a touch bashfully. “It’s been ages since I bathed with anyone.”

Truly he’d never bathed with someone like this, but there had been a fad of bath houses for the working class in the east some three centuries ago, and the company there– the anonymity of yet another farmer’s face– had made for such good distraction.

This pool was much cleaner, much different, and several degrees upwards in terms of lavishness.

Much like its brother, and probably any other baths the mansion was hiding, it was far too much for Xie Lian. But he would enjoy it anyway.

“It’s the least I can do for you.” Hua Cheng demurred. “Here– may I?”

Xie Lian turned and saw the ghost had pooled liquid hair soap onto his palm.

“Sit, I need to wet it first.” Xie Lian agreed. Hua Cheng took himself readily to the small ledge, and Xie Lian theoretically went to wetten his hair but mostly stared at the ripples left in the wake of Hua Cheng’s hips as he waded, alarmingly fascinated by the way he made his way through the water.

Eventually– and thankfully before the other man was situated enough to notice– he managed to pull his eyes away and rather forcefully dunk his head. It was bracing; though the water was hot to the point of literally steaming, Xie Lian felt as though he’d plunged into ice water. Finally jerking his gaze away from Hua Cheng’s back was like breaking an enchantment designed to mesmerize.

Once sanity returned, he dipped his hair more carefully, sinking down this time instead of falling face first.

He emerged and waded closer to Hua Cheng, who patted the bench. Obediently, he rose up to the spot, and had the pleasure of feeling talented hands work the soap in. They lingered on his scalp the most, rubbing and massaging.

Xie Lian moaned, absolutely luxuriating in it.

“San Lang, that feels so good.” He almost complained. “Don’t stop. You should keep doing this forever.”

“Your wish.” Hua Cheng said, in the silkiest voice. “My command.”

Xie Lian laughed.

“Surely the water will get cold eventually, right?”

Hua Cheng’s voice sounded at his ear, disagreeing: “Deeply, deeply haunted, Gege.”

“By you, right? That’s what you mean?” Xie Lian opened one eye, felt soap descend from his eyebrow, and closed it again. “Haunted by you?”

“Sure, if it eases you to think that.” Hua Cheng agreed far too easily. Xie Lian FORCEFULLY PUT THE MATTER FROM HIS MIND.

Deeply enchanted was one thing, but an unintentional sentience from the building? Ah, he’d seen far weirder in his time, but one scenario allowed him to sleep at night!

Especially since the haunted/enchanted building was where he was sleeping. For the foreseeable future. Perhaps forever? But no, surely Hua Cheng was exaggerating that desire…

Xie Lian simply wasn’t that lucky.

He was also quite content to believe in ‘intentionally enchantment,’ when it came to the incredibly cursed mansion that was dripping with resentful energy.

It was much easier to focus on the hands massaging him, and let all the tension slip from his shoulders. He slumped bonelessly against Hua Cheng, back pressed to the other man’s chest.

Hua Cheng shifted a little.

“Is this alright?” Xie Lian asked, barely moving his mouth and leaving his eyes closed. Oh, if he had to move he might cry…

“Fine.” Hua Cheng said, far too quickly, but Xie Lian was loath to disbelieve him. He settled more surely in the cradle of Hua Cheng’s elbows. His forearms rested on Xie Lian’s shoulders as he scrubbed the shampoo in.

Some ineffable time later, the same low voice at his ear, infinitely softer.

“Duck and rinse, Gege.”

Xie Lian didn’t have to consider it. Contentedness made him pliant and obedient. He slipped fluidly from Hua Cheng’s touch and glided under the water, letting his hair rinse completely.

When he rose, it was to face his companion once more.

Xie Lian smiled, utterly at ease.

Hua Cheng’s mouth was open. He looked hungry and devastated all at once. Thought returned to Xie Lian slowly.

He waded closer.

“San Lang?” He asked.

The ghost shuddered.

“I know heat doesn’t bother you as much as the others, but is it too hot?” Even as he said it, the question felt stupid on his lips. Obviously, Xie Lian did something wrong.

He swam closer, determined to fix it.

Hua Cheng watched him and didn’t move.

“San Lang?”

“I’m fine, Gege.” The world’s most scratchy voice lied, offering up a watery smile. “Blessed to be here.”

Xie Lian swept his wet hair over one shoulder, baring his neck, and watched Hua Cheng’s eyes land on it with a sort of desperation.

Oh.

Well, that he could do.

“San Lang, do you want some more?” Xie Lian swam closer, not opposed. It was possible “not opposed” was something of an understatement.

His body was still alive with fire from how hot he’d burned not an hour ago.

He wanted to feel that fire again.

“Gege?” Hua Cheng asked, as though uncomprehending. Xie Lian simplified it for him, climbing back on the bench and astride his thighs.

Hua Cheng’s hands came up to stabilize him out of self-defense, keeping him upright.

“Gege!”

“It’s fine.” Xie Lian said, meaning it. He pulled damp strands of hair from his neck that tried to cling with their wetness.

“Ugh.” He said, feeling thwarted, then brightened. “There we go, all good! You can…” He trailed off, not sure how to ask.

There was his neck, okay!! Bared and ready! He tipped his chin to the side in open invitation.

The man under him shuddered hard.

“I shouldn’t…” Hua Cheng murmurs, already leaning in. “God, the things you do to me.”

Xie Lian blushed, the pink of it spreading down his neck and collar bone, visible in the faint light of the room. Butterfly wings reflected off the rippling water, stars and moonlight on a night lake.

“You really should.” Xie Lian found himself saying, unable to look due to his own embarrassment over how eager he is, but definitely very eager. And he didn’t have to look to feel Hua Cheng edge closer, a snake charmed with a flute.

Was Xie Lian hypnotizing him? If so, he had no idea how. It was probably the blood.

“Ah, San Lang, wait!” The sense of pressure at his nape vanished immediately. The thighs under his tensed up.

“It’s just… I was wondering… you see… There’s something I wanted.”

“Anything.” Hua Cheng said, and when Xie Lian looked his eyes were clenched shut, jaw tight.

“Are you okay?” Xie Lian checked, just to be sure. Ah, to be so close to a meal, and having it taken away! How cruel of him. He would try to make the request quick.

The muscle at Hua Cheng’s jaw throbbed. Then, he relaxed and opened his eyes.

They burned, the red so bright Xie Lian gasped.

There were also two of them, which was… maybe sort of his whole problem.

“Can you do it in your true form?” Xie Lian blurted. He covered his face, then realized the cowardice; instead he put his arms on Hua Cheng’s bare shoulders.

Hmm, they were really very nice shoulders. Quite shapely.

But probably smaller than his true form’s.

“Why?” Hua Cheng croaked. “I mean– I said ‘anything’.”

“Not if you’re uncomfortable!” Xie Lian protested. “Ah, I mean– I just really want to…”

Not ‘see’, perhaps, but feel? Would the teeth be different? Xie Lian shivered and Hua Cheng’s grip tightened briefly on his bare hips.

“I’ll keep my eyes closed.” He promised, closing them immediately. “So I won’t see.”

“… okay, Gege.”

Xie Lian went breathless with anticipation. He wasn’t kept waiting long. Hua Cheng shifted under him, and then suddenly Xie Lian’s legs were forced farther apart.

It sent a violent tremble through his whole spine, and Xie Lian actually gasped. Something about the sensation, the pressure at his inner thighs, edging them wider…

Okay! Well! You learn new things about yourself every day, don’t you!?

Xie Lian laughed nervously. It tripped into a breathless moan as he realized the hands at his hips were now bigger, fingers longer, grip entirely different… and a touch more warm.

“Hnng.” Xie Lian said. Then, clearing his throat. “Thank you, San Lang.”

Oh, his voice was still so breathless, how funny.

“Gege.” Hua Cheng said in a voice so much deeper. Well, not that much deeper, in the grand scheme of things. But! Noticeably deeper! Changed enough that it took everything in him not to look.

But he’d promised, so he could only bite his lip and lean in a little, like his other senses could somehow map the changes.

His chest touched Hua Cheng’s well before he expected it to, like the other man’s chest had… well, grown. Pectorals, shoulders, everything…

A few consonants slid out of Xie Lian’s throat.

“Are your teeth longer in this form?” He asked, absolutely fascinated.

A beat of silence. Then:

“…Does Gege want to feel?”

Gege very much did want to feel.

His hand moved before he could voice his assent, already eager. It touched first hair, the familiar silky strands, damp with steam. Then a shoulder that he was not able to immediately discern the difference of; muscle felt like muscle, and he did not have the shape of Hua Cheng’s memorized.

Oddly, he felt that he should absolutely change that, and know each form’s details with his hands, so that he might know the difference blind.

“Here.” One hand left Xie Lian’s waist and caught his wrist, guiding it up. He touched a soft mouth ever so briefly, and then Hua Cheng’s lips parted and oh, teeth!

Xie Lian’s fingertips rubbed curiously, finding the sharper canines easily enough.

“I never did this with your other form.” He complained, breathlessly. “I don’t know the difference.”

“Mm.” But of course Hua Cheng couldn’t talk with Xie Lian’s fingers in his mouth. It was only two of them, but Xie Lian felt the vibration of that hum through his entire arm. Curious, he rubbed the other teeth; no different to his own. They were not otherwise sharper than another human’s, or god’s, or ghost’s.

He ran his fingertips over the soft inner lining of Hua Cheng’s bottom lip, and then the top. He slid them around to the inside of the teeth. Then, without thinking, caressed Hua Cheng’s tongue, which rippled and shifted under them.

“Mnuh.” Hua Cheng said, around his fingers. Then, he closed his mouth and sucked.

Xie Lian! Was so incredibly surprised to discover! That his fingers have a direct line of sensation to his cock.

He didn’t know when he became hard enough to shatter rock, but surely he was, and the hot suction bade his cock throb against Hua Cheng’s abs.

A strangled sound escaped him, wholly animal.

He’d like to say he extracted his fingers at once, with a nervous laugh!

… But he did no such thing. In fact he stared, eyes comically wide, but dutifully looking at the ceiling, and let the strange sensation wash over him. Hua Cheng suckled his fingers slowly, lavishing them with his tongue, letting them move to and fro over his lips. In and out in the most subtle motions, guided by Hua Cheng’s hand on his wrist.

Xie Lian slowly tried to pick up the rhythm. Hua Cheng hummed around his fingers, encouraging.

Was the water getting hotter!? Was it some unforeseen effect of Hua Cheng’s true form, heating the bath as the lantern fires sometimes leapt around him!?

Xie Lian pushed his fingers back, flattening Hua Cheng’s tongue, and the hand on his hip tightened. The ghost moaned, shivering a little.

Xie Lian’s cock was emitting a slick, thick substance, the head visible above the water line. Ask him how he knows? Because the air was touching it, and it was occasionally touching Hua Cheng’s stomach, and the wetness at the tip made it stick to the ghost’s skin for a half-second every time it bobbed.

Xie Lian pulled away just slightly, to prevent the touch, but Hua Cheng didn’t let him go far. Both with the hand on his hip and his absolutely ridiculous mouth, which sucked in his fingers all the way to the last knuckle.

“Mm.” He said again, before ever-so-slowly pulling off. Xie Lian’s fingertips brushed his lips, tacky with spit.

“Gege can do that any time he likes.” Hua Cheng said. “My mouth is yours.”

Don’t tell Gege that, he’s already obsessed with your teeth!!!!

“Aha, maybe.” Xie Lian said, squeezing his eyes closed again. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to look, because the thing he wanted second most in the world was to see what Hua Cheng’s mouth looked like right now.

He manfully refrained.

The first thing in the world he wanted, however, was definitely an option!

“San Lang, please.” Xie Lian said, butting spit-slick fingers against his lips to find his face, and sliding around until he could guide the man’s jaw.

He leaned in, careful to keep his eyes closed; it had the helpful benefit of baring his throat.

“Are you sure?” Hua Cheng asked. “Be so very sure, Gege.”

“I am, I swear.” Xie Lian said. “I like it so much, San Lang.”

He could feel the tremor under him, the reaction to the words.

“Alright.” Hua Cheng agreed, and the hand at his wrist vanished. It curled around Xie Lian’s neck, bringing him closer.

Yes, yes!

Everything was changed by the dark. By being unable to see, even if he wanted to. The bump of a nose against his neck, the sweet brush of probably-Hua-Cheng’s-cheek; finally, lips trailing up the line of his throat.

Finally, lips parting and sharpened teeth pressing into him.

Xie Lian moaned. The feeling was enhanced just that much with his eyes clenched shut; he was unable to handle it as pleasure flooded his body.

Head tipped back, thighs trembling where he was holding himself up off of Hua Cheng’s lap, it was unbelievable how tempted he was to just… sink down, let Hua Cheng catch him, to rut up against him like an animal.

How very tempted he was to stop the bite entirely and take the ruby mouth painted with his own blood, to drag Hua Cheng down in a fevered kiss until he couldn’t taste anything but Xie Lian, and the water splashed out around them, drenching everything, and they fell and fell again, too desperate to pull away–

Xie Lian opened his eyes to see the dark ceiling of the room, a night sky broken up only by the incandescent glow of several wraith butterflies, and he was dizzy with how real the fantasy felt, lips actually tingling with it. He wanted to be kissed, and he wanted to hold Hua Cheng down, and he… was in so much trouble.

His legs clenched, the insides of his knees so alive where they touched Hua Cheng’s skin, the strong legs that he was braced on, and every place they were touching– the small pull of pressure at his neck, so much more reserved than earlier, barely taking any blood– as though Hua Cheng wanted to make this last, as though he was just as desperate, just as undone.

This was not an ascetic act. Xie Lian almost wanted to laugh but he knew it would come out crazed, undone. He was choosing pleasure, choosing the mouth on his neck, and part of him wanted to indulge in the frenzied daydream– in the fantasy— and his face was burning red with it, in a way he couldn’t blame on the steam. He almost felt out of control of his own body.

Like part of him was already pushing Hua Cheng down, scrambling on top of him, manhandling, demanding…

He did demand. He asked for more and another and dragged Hua Cheng’s mouth back to his neck– to many other places all along his neck. By the time Hua Cheng finally pulled away, Xie Lian was renouncing his entire vow of chastity.

Technically, Hua Cheng had pulled away many times by then– pulled away gasping between tiny bites scattered across Xie Lian’s collar, a necklace of paired puncture wounds strung from ear to ear, but this time he tucked his face into Xie Lian’s neck, nose and lashes tickling, and rested his forehead there.

Xie Lian’s lungs were billowing and against the sounds of lapping water they both tried to bring themselves under control.

Was it even possible to recover from such? Xie Lian wanted to do it forever, to bleed all the way out and he had to clench his hands to prevent them from reaching for it, to beg for the safest and most satisfying death in four hundred years.

His hands, however, were still in Hua Cheng’s hair, and clenching them only pulled it, making the ghost gasp, ragged and unexpected.

“Sorry!” Xie Lian hastily apologized, and then his brain belatedly also registered the jolt that had gone through him, and…

“Don’t be,” Hua Cheng said, closing his eyes firmly, forcing his breath to be measured. “It was…”

Something hysterical rose in Xie Lian’s throat and he swallowed it back down.

It took every ounce of self control he had ever had not to tug again, maybe tilt Hua Cheng’s chin back, maybe bare his neck and deliver a few bites of his own. Would he like that? Would he–

Xie Lian forcibly removed his hands, disentangling them from silky damp strands.

He patted Hua Cheng’s shoulders.

“Ah, San Lang.” Another apology died on his lips. He was… not sorry for anything? He felt like he should apologize, though. Felt like he somehow… overstepped. Even though he asked for this. For just this, exactly, knowing exactly how it would feel.

Isn’t that kind of…?

Hua Cheng inhaled sharply once more, as if for strength, before pulling back so he could see Xie Lian. His hands migrated upwards, fingers flat against Xie Lian’s naked back.

Supporting him, as Hua Cheng leaned back.

“Are you alright, Gege?” He asked, a low, intent murmur.

“F-fine.” Xie Lian replied, a touch breathless. He could not even lie to himself and say it was from the decadent heat of the bath.

Could only stare, hungry, at the face before him, framed with steam and dark hair.

Too late, he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be looking, and averted his eyes upward to the refined ceiling. But it was too late, of course, the other man’s forbidden features already seared into his brain. A stronger jaw, sharper cheeks, a longer, more striking nose– a more pronounced widow’s peak, a more generous mouth.

Fuck.

“San Lang said he looked hideous.” Xie Lian croaked, reproachfully. Then: “Ah, I’m sorry– I said I wouldn’t look.”

“It’s okay.” Hua Cheng sounded amused, his hands moving up and down– comforting, petting. The two of them swayed a little in the water.

If Xie Lian thought about how close he was to poking the Crimson Rain Sought Flower, he would lose his mind, and dissolve into a gibbering mess, so he did not.

Neither could he recite the ethics sutra when he went into this with open eyes and a desperate heart, so he just… relaxed into it. It’d go away.

Probably. Eventually.

If he kept looking at the ceiling instead of Hua Cheng.

“Gege can look.” Said the dark voice of the Ghost King, and Xie Lian shivered.

“I said I wouldn’t.” He protested, because looking at Hua Cheng’s handsome face would ensure someone was poked, and that was with Xie Lian’s hands firmly on his shoulders, palms resting against smooth collar bone– if he looked, he’d probably touch, and move closer to see if Hua Cheng’s ears were pointed as well, and rub his thumb across the stained lips that tasted of his blood–

Taste! Demanded the desperate voice that was rising in him, an echo of the prince he once was, who could stomp his foot and demand anything. A covetous version of that self, who was thankfully cowed into cultivationary submission well before such desires could make him a menace on the population of Xian Le’s comely youths.

I skipped that part of puberty, Xie Lian thought at it spitefully, but his blood still rushed wildly, undeterred. He remembered the Xie Lian in the mirror, a debauched stranger.

“You’ve already seen it,” Hua Cheng countered quietly. “Really, it’s fine.”

Steam hid Xie Lian’s blush, and he had no words to describe how thin his control had frayed. How for the first time in his life, self-restraint was not a matter of course.

For centuries, he’d thought of celibacy as a skill he’d already mastered. It turned out, instead, that he’d never known temptation–and crossing blades with it for the first time now was a deeply startling experience. He felt unarmed; unmoored; like Hua Cheng’s arms were the only thing keeping him from floating adrift, and a single glance would tip his conoe.

He took a deep breath, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, and kept his eyes averted.

The heat of the water had turned his skin a dusty pink, the attention from those gorgeous teeth leaving Hua Cheng’s crimson behind wherever he’d bitten, in glorious bouquets of violet and rose. Hua Cheng’s eyes caught on the marks briefly, and darkened all over again at the sight of the imprints.

“Let me heal that,” Hua Cheng murmured, the hands behind Xie Lian’s back tightening a little as he shifted, coming closer once more. One hand trailed up and over his shoulder, keeping both of them steady in the water as he inspected the marks.

Hua Cheng ran his thumb over them delicately, and then slowly– cautiously, so as not to rouse either of them back to the frenzied state they kept slipping into– dipped his mouth to coax the wounds away.

Xie Lian kept his hands firmly on Hua Cheng’s shoulders, determined not to slip around to cradle his head closer; determined not to let them tangle so dangerously in wet, dark strands.

It was somehow more intimate than placing the bites originally. The care and the tenderness with which Hua Cheng moved his lips accross Xie Lian’s skin, slowly repairing where he’d bitten, the bruises left behind. Xie Lian almost didn’t want him to; wanted to see what the necklace of bite marks would look like in the morning, faint splotches of pink and purple dawn around his collar.

He clenched all of his muscles to keep himself from moving; even clenched his jaw against the urge to sigh, to ask for more, or to simply even gasp out in reaction to what were, in essence, sweet kisses. The only thing that made it bearable was the slight sting as Hua Cheng moved to a new, torn bit of skin.

Xie Lian had built up a tolerance to pain. It was such a familiar sensation that it barely merited notice anymore, an old friend.

He had no such defense against pleasure, no resistance against it. Each instance was shocky and new, like the freshly-healed skin of a burn, and Hua Cheng’s soft lips over the newly unmarked skin stoked the embers they’d both silently agreed to bank.

Hua Cheng finally ended his journey, the sun rising and falling, across the dipping continent of Xie Lian’s throat. He paused there, for a long moment at the indent just beneath Xie Lian’s ear, and breathed.

For a moment, it could have gone either way. Xie Lian’s heart beat loudly in his chest, and he would not– could not– have objected if they fell into each other again, slaking a thirst that could not be explained, a needy flower rising up in him that had a single condition under which it could bloom.

“Dianxia.” Hua Cheng whispered hoarsely into his skin. They both trembled on the edge of temptation.

Then, Hua Cheng eased back, loose hair tickling Xie Lian’s jaw, and manuevered until Xie Lian was no longer in his lap. The front of their thighs brushed, sending lightning through Xie Lian, but the distance helped; his pulse calmed and he slid onto the bench next to Hua Cheng, reaching for the soaps.

When he turned around, he found he could look at Hua Cheng once more, without some yawning pit of greed in his heart eating him alive. Tenderness coiled through him; he smiled tentatively at his ghost, and received an impossibly vulnerable look back, a smile slowly softening the new face Xie Lian could stare at forever.

They–somehow– got through the rest of the bath after all that, with mutual courtesy, some choked laughter, and more actual washing.

Xie Lian was even able to return the favor of washing his ghost’s hair, though not without significant cajoling and a whole lot of strict effort to keep his hands to himself, but all throughout, his thoughts were barely fit for polite company.

He still wanted to taste.

8. Back in My Day

With sure hands, Xie Lian threw open the royal pantry of Paradise Manor’s kitchen.

He only stumbled a little at the plethora of ingredients. Xie Lian had had scattered experiences working in kitchens and restaurants– always, by definition, short-lived.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook, to be clear! It was that his luck is so, so bad that– well.

The chance of vegetables spoiling over night was low, but never zero. Mold springing up, insects getting into dried goods, salt replacing sugar…

He couldn’t even be relegated to dish-washing, because all of a martial god’s lithe grace and dexterity was nothing in the face of such powerful misfortune, negated at once by a stray patch of oil or fruit peel to slip over.

So, sooner or later– and usually sooner– he was always run out of any large or fancy kitchen, ha ha ha! Sometimes literally.

(“Plague! Curse! A pox sent down by heaven to see us ruined! Out, out!”)

That was to say, Xie Lian had never been given free reign with such fine and abundant ingredients. The spices alone were so numerous they took up an entire wall! His eyes sparkled, thoughts dancing with possibility after possibility.

Xie Lian tensed up despite himself. Although there were a plethora of options, it was a mistake to rely on getting that chance. Ah, actually, he probably only had one good shot at cooking, before the chefs and kitchen hands threw him out in self defense, and no small amount of horror.

So, he’d better make it count! No time for experimenting, he had to focus on one amazing meal for Hua Cheng!

“Do we have everything Gege needs?” A warm baritone at his back, pressing the curious tone almost directly to his ear.

Xie Lian relaxed instantly, leaning back into the other man’s presence, if not his actual body. Part of him imagined it slightly different: Hua Cheng coming up behind him with sure arms around his waist, chest hot against his back and chin tucked over his shoulder with easy confidence, teasing words just shy of his ear, lips brushing the lobe there, maybe even sliding down to his neck…

Xie Lian mentally cleared his throat and offered his host a smile. It was never hard to find one to give, around this ghost.

“San Lang.” He greeted warmly. Embarrassingly, his voice came out as breathless as a princess swept off her feet. Xie Lian cleared his throat literally this time. “Ah, no, there’s so much! I haven’t quite decided what to make yet, so…. But with all this I’m sure you’ll have everything!”

He scratched his cheek with a finger, laughing awkwardly.

He half turned to Hua Cheng and couldn’t quite stifle a sharp little gasp. He raised his eyes higher; where he’d looked, out of habit, to a teenager’s eyes– was now a shapely collar bone, curling above a broader set of shoulders and foreshadowing a shapely throat, a strong Adam’s apple.

And as Xie Lian rose his gaze to accommodate his companion’s new height, he was of course treated to the most pleasant surprise of Hua Cheng’s true face.

Like his illicit glimpses before had promised, he was devastatingly, unfairly handsome. Masculine to a hot, almost distracting degree. All of his features were bold: strong nose, strong jaw, strong brow.

His left eye was covered by a simple black patch, but even that only added to the striking features. He was not only good to look at, but so interesting, too.

Xie Lian felt like he could look and look and never find cause to look away.

“Gege.” Hua Cheng’s more generous mouth greeted back, just as warmly. He reached out and Xie Lian tangled their fingers together without hesitation, smiling even wider in return.

How lovely, to touch and be touched.

Hua Cheng’s lips were thinner in this form, but an artist would paint the line of them with a longer stroke than those on his ‘San Lang’ form– the younger form which, of course, wore his mouth small and often pursed, yet with full, pouty lips, appearing distressingly soft…

The more masculine curve to his true form’s mouth made Xie Lian wonder how soft it was, and his body wanted him to know he’d felt glimpses of it against his skin during the bath; that his fingers know their softness from sliding past them.

Xie Lian shook himself and gave the ghost’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Sorry, lost in my thoughts.” He offered, somewhat sheepish.

“No need,” Hua Cheng didn’t look away from him and didn’t look a bit bothered, as though he had the patience of a statue; carved from stone and going nowhere, ready to weather the centuries quite contently.

And, oh no– his smile here was just a little crooked, lifting up more on one side than the other, and Xie Lian found his heart squeezing hard. Oh, he was so handsome? How was Xie Lian meant to live with this!?

He gathered every bit of his scattered wits and tried to remember where he was and why. Recalling the mission, he brightened.

“Of course, now I just need to know a ghost king’s favorite food.” Xie Lian said leadingly, letting their clasped hands rest easily between them as he turned his attention– but not his face– back to the shelves of spices.

Oh, he tried! His chest turns back to them just fine– but at the last second, Xie Lian could not yet pull his eyes away from his ghost.

Maybe he just needed to look a little longer, to memorize this new, familiar face?

Since he could not look away, he saw the way the corner of Hua Cheng’s mouth twitched, the flare of amused heat in his eye.

“San Lang!” Xie Lian gasped, laughing. He didn’t even have to say it out loud; that look spoke volumes!

“I said nothing,” defended the mischievous ghost. “However, it would be remiss of me not to point out… Gege’s suspicions are most definitely correct.”

Then he grinned and Xie Lian saw even more fang than usual== het tipped his ears as he realized, like everything else, Hua Cheng’s teeth were bigger in this form.

He bit his lip; his eyes dipped down and got so far as that much larger chest– covered from his gaze by a fine set of robes in a deep black togeay, with only hints of red– just his innermost robes, hems barely visible, and the belt tied around at the waist, the very trim waist that tapered down to…

Xie Lian jerked his gaze up before it could slip any further, pulse racing.

He waited for the words of the Ethics Sutra that never came, head empty of all thoughts. There was none of his upbringing as a prince or the centuries of habit from his cultivation method; there was only Xie Lian, the person, and the human animal of his body.

Heat had erupted in Hua Cheng’s eye as well. As Xie Lian’s red face belayed his guilt, he saw Hua Cheng watching him back just as avidly.

“Gege.” He said, and the sound of his voice was a strike of a weapon. “Don’t… you’re so tempting.”

“Maybe I want to tempt you.” He said around his loud heart, emboldened by the break in that sentence, the hint of a whine. The frayed note of desperation, his own want reflected right back at him.

Hua Cheng’s hand squeezed tight in his and Xie Lian stepped closer, hardly recognizing himself. He felt possessed; by daring, by fearlessness.

His ghost didn’t run. He met Xie Lian in that same place of bravery, wearing his own skin, his own single widened eye.

“You’re succeeding.” The ghost said, and swallowed. “Does Gege want anything else?”

Xie Lian wanted the world in his hands and his mouth, to swallow it down as an orb of white; he wanted to have everything he never knew he wanted.

“Yes,” He said, from that bold place inside him that looked into the mirror and liked what it saw. He yanked Hua Cheng to him and the ghost was already half-moving, gentling the crash-that-would-have-been, his hands coming up between Xie Lian’s back and the shelves. They caught the impact, but the fine ingredients in their fine containers crashed to the ground.

“You’ve lost– I’ve drank— too much–” Hua Cheng gasped into his throat, mindlessly pressing kiss after open-mouthed kiss.

“I can’t die.” Xie Lian spoke with a hysterical light, demanding. “Come here, come here.”

His fingers flexed in Hua Cheng’s robes, like jade sunk into ink, and tipped his head back forcefully. A container of tea fell to the floor, metal against wood, bouncing its way into the mess.

Hua Cheng pressed a firm kiss to the bared throat, mouth unmoving even as his body shuddered once.

“It’s okay, please.” Xie Lian said. And then, with a shaky inhale: “I want it.”

He once more stared down his other self in the mirror; he once more faced the version of himself that was disheveled with the touch of another’s hands, undone by wanting.

Xie Lian gave into the living animal of his body and groaned, winding his hands more thoroughly, pulling Hua Cheng closer.

He was not being bitten. He did not yet have the excuse of a vampire’s bite.

“San Lang.” He breathed, pressing them tight together, and thrilled in the hot noise the other made.

“Gege.” Hua Cheng said, laughing despite himself. “Mm, and who am I to deny you?”

The murmur shifted into the kiss of teeth, a perfect tease, and Xie Lian tensed up in breathless anticipation. One of Hua Cheng’s hands slipped down to his hip, his thigh– and pulled it up against his waist, pressing closer as his teeth sank in.

The duality of it had Xie Lian crying out. Hua Cheng’s hips sank into him like coming home, and the teeth that pressed inside of him felt like something else entirely.

It gave Xie Lian something brand new to want.

It was all he could do to hold on as pleasure linked through him like fire. The lanterns lighting the pantry shuddered higher with each pull of Hua Cheng’s mouth, as he began to drink ever-so-slowly. Savoring.

The novelty of being– companions– with someone who gave him something to look forward to, constantly, in every aspect of life— who made each new day bright and exciting, whose company never dulled, whose attention never wavered—

It was a revelation too big for Xie Lian’s brain at this time, when he only wanted to focus on the very good feelings his body was experiencing, still shocking in their newness.

He rode that wave of thoughtless enjoyment, all conflicting thoughts leaving his mind. He was silly with how good it felt, and he was just… enjoying himself.

How novel.

Getting lost in the sensation seemed to make him somehow even more aware of the bite itself. Every pull of blood into Hua Cheng’s mouth, every movement of his tongue, every minute shift of his mouth– it all sent little jolts through him, reminding him of exactly what was happening.

He closed his eyes and rested his head more against the heavy wooden shelf, leaned into the arm around him. The other was firm on his thigh, grounding him, and–

Unlike last time, neither were consumed with urgency.

Hua Cheng rocked slowly against him, a sensual grind, and Xie Lian had been hard since he was pushed against the wall.

It was more scandalous than last time, of course. Instead of the frantic, mindless rush that swept them up before, this was very much… deliberate.

Xie Lian had to consciously grind back, and he did. It made his cheeks burn red, and the rush of blood past where he’ was bleeding brought a hint of dizziness.

It was nice; it was so nice. The slowness also gave him more time to… well, notice. Things that he perchance hadn’t noticed before. Or had noticed, but hadn’t had the room to consider.

Hua Cheng was… big.

The length of him pressed into Xie Lian, hard through all the layers of their clothes, and even after Hua Cheng had pulled away from his neck and Xie Lian was left with sticky inner layers and wanting, he couldn’t forget that small– that hardly small– detail.

He thought and thought and thought, to the point that hours later, when Xie Lan asked again what kind of meal he wanted– and Hua Cheng suggested he just wanted to try Xie Lian’s favorite food– he was almost done thinking, and he was pretty sure he knew exactly what he wanted.

And he thought about everything else he knew about the ghost.

About the way Hua Cheng had promised to stay with him, and even someone as jaded as Xie Lian was hard-pressed to doubt that incredible sincerity.

People just didn’t form that kind of dedication to a stranger.

From the moment they met, Hua Cheng looked at him like… well, it certainly wasn’t like someone he’d just met, however polite he’d been. However courteous and smooth his mannerisms.

The way he called him Dianxia.

Xie Lian considered, for one moment, what it’d be like if his every frivolous offer was actually…

He squinted suspiciously at the ghost opposite from him, but couldn’t help a small smile when Hua Cheng looked back with open affection.

“I think… I know what I want to make for San Lang.” He said.

“Oh?” The ghost perked up, and though he wore his older shape, Xie Lian could see the echo of a little side ponytail, the playfulness of his younger form shining through. “This one isn’t picky. Any meal prepared by Gege will be a privilege to eat.”

“Did you mean it when you said we could get anything I needed? For the recipe, I mean.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” Hua Cheng said simply, swinging his feet against the counter.

Xie Lian absorbed that. Flippant, yes, but if you put aside the tone…

“Sometimes you joke around, though. I’m not sure what’s… well, what things you really mean.” Xie Lian admitted sheepishly.

Hua Cheng looked stricken. He jumped off the counter gracefully and stepped into Xie Lian’s space. It felt familiar, natural; like how Xie Lian had wanted him to wrap his arms around Xie Lian from behind, earlier; like this kind of embrace was alright between them.

“Gege.” Hua Cheng said, face solemn. He hesitated for only a moment before cupping Xie Lian’s cheeks to meet his eyes more seriously. That, too, had become a familiar touch.

“Gege, I may be a playful type of person, but when I say a thing, I mean it.” He exhaled slowly before pressing his lips together, and said quietly: “You’ll never find anyone more sincere than me.”

In any other circumstance, Xie Lian would have laughed him off– who makes such promises, in this day and age? Like a knight kneeling to take a lifetime’s oath. It was too profound, too genuine; if you didn’t laugh, how would you handle it!?

But Xie Lian wasn’t laughing now.

And once upon a time, he’d taken such ardent fealty as his due, and he still knew how to receive it graciously.

He didn’t want to take Hua Cheng’s devotion with a cold and detached royal air, however. He didn’t want to be so impersonal with this person.

Instead, Xie Lian lifted Hua Cheng’s hand off the right side of his face, tugging it away. He held it by the wrist and turned it around, until the knuckles could brush against his cheek, leaning into it.

Hua Cheng’s breath caught.

It was the same position Xie Lian had used the other night, when he’d said “Stay,” and Hua Cheng had obeyed.

“Alright.” Xie Lian said simply. “From now on, if you say a thing, no matter how outlandish it is, I’ll believe you.”

Hua Cheng took a long second, looking almost overwhelmed. Then, he smiled.

“Okay, Gege. This one will try not to abuse the privilege.”

“Mm.” Xie Lian said, not quite trusting that there wouldn’t be playfulness and obvious exaggerations. “Well, then… What I want to make… it requires a certain ingredient, that used to grow… well, close to where I grew up.”

He took the hands from his face and carefully twined them with his, lowering the joined fingers between them but not letting go. It was getting harder and harder to part from this kind of touch, and Hua Cheng didn’t ever pull away from it, either. He didn’t pull away now.

He smiled crookedly at Xie Lian.

“I’ll treasure the meal even more, knowing it’s something Gege’s made for so long.”

“I haven’t, though.” Xie Lian blurted. “Made it, that is. It was… something my mother used to make for me. She couldn’t quite get it right, either, but it was a meal passed down from her mother, and so on. I haven’t ever had the ingredients to try.”

“Do you know the place?” Hua Cheng asked, without hesitation. He unfolded their hands and withdrew from his chest pocket a pair of heavy black dice. Xie Lian could sense the energy from them even without touching them. They were inscribed with delicate runework, yet still had the pips of traditional six-sided die.

They were clearly a spiritual device.

Hua Cheng offered his hand once more. Xie Lian took it immediately, twining their fingers back together gratefully, as if they belonged.

—

The dice turned out to contain a distance-shortening array, in a small, multi-use form that was actually quite brilliant. Hua Cheng’s mind never ceased to amaze him.

Xie Lian stepped out of the doorway and into the verdant sunshine of his youth. Xian Le hadn’t stood for centuries, but you wouldn’t know it from looking at the ancient trees around them; the overgrowth of this part of the forest had been wild then, too.

It felt a little less like four hundred years had passed, seeing that this wild place was still intact, when the rest of his childhood had burned.

“I know that one,” Hua Cheng said in surprise, when Xie Lian described their prey. He was wearing his youthful form once more for the occasion. The side pony-tail bounced as he walked, with a confidence belaying his apparent age.

“Didn’t it grow around the base of certain trees? Oak, if I remember right.”

A growing certainty settled in Xie Lian’s breast.

“Mm, that’s the one.” He agreed. Yet, Hua Cheng had always known so much about so many subjects, so why not this one? Perhaps it was still a coincidence.

“Don’t worry, Gege.” He said with all of San Lang’s sparkly cheer and playfulness, misinterpreting the melancholy Xie Lian couldn’t quite shrug off. “I’ll absolutely, definitely find this plant for you!”

He winked, even, and then began the search.

They looked for a while. The herb was in short supply even when it was widely cultivated and encouraged to grow, so he wasn’t surprised that it was overtaken by more hardy greenery. He only hoped that it was still around, at all.

The sun sank low around them, filtering through the leaves. It was summer here. And, as promised, the ghost king with him was not bothered by the sunlight, despite all other ghosts being weak to it, and definitely other vampire-type ghosts having twice the weakness.

Eventually, Hua Cheng sat back with a heavy sigh, dappled light creating interesting shadows on his face and hair.

“Gege, let’s take a break, okay? It’s alright to rest for a while.”

“Mm.” Xie Lian smiled for him. The sun was warm, the pollen heavy in the air. The trees provided ample shade, but in addition to that reprieve, there was cloud cover rolling in from the East; with the sun setting, it wouldn’t be hot for long.

“I should have brought some water. Maybe a snack or two.” Xie Lian realized out loud. “Ah, I didn’t think it would take this long.”

He laughed at himself, picking grass and little burrs off his knees as he stood.

“This forest’s always been huge.” Hua Cheng countered. “And it’s been so long, of course you couldn’t find it right away. Also, I forgot to bring anything, either.” He offered Xie Lian a smile, then squinted in the distance, pointing. “If I remember right, there’s a small river over that way.”

They headed in that direction. Now that Hua Cheng mentioned it, Xie Lian did remember a lot of running water in his childhood maps. Though he’d had precious few opportunities to actually explore his own kingdom, a prince’s geography lessons were thorough– even this place, which had been part of the large forest outside of the capital city, was largely unfamiliar to him in person.

They found a merrily bubbling brook, that might feed into a river but certainly wasn’t large enough to qualify on its own, and Hua Cheng apologized even as he pulled two cups from his quiankun sleeves.

Xie Lian had already shoved his sleeves up, to cup water between his hand and splash on his face. Water dripped down awkwardly and he laughed again.

“My mistake, I didn’t realize you had something like that. I should have waited.” Embarassed, he began to wipe his face, but Hua Cheng beat him to it, using his darker robes to dry the water.

“I should have said,” Hua Cheng denied, pushing damp hair back from Xie Lian’s forehead. “Let me fill your cup.”

He went back to the river and returned with a cup of clear water, and Xie Lian drained his once, twice and a third time, stunned at the intensity thirst that had snuck up on him. The summer sun was not yet harsh enough in the season to provoke such a dehydration in Xie Lian, who was more than used to laboring under it!

“Gege’s lost a lot of blood recently.” Hua Cheng said, pointedly, and Xie Lian suddenly was in the bath again, begging outright for yet another bite, refusing to let them part.

He shook himself back to the present, trying to calculate the truth of those words. Oh right, blood loss.

The dalliance in the pantry earlier probably wasn’t the smartest move, considering, and yet… He hadn’t been able to stop himself from indulging.

“It’s not like it could kill me.” He said with a rush of blood to his cheeks.

Hua Cheng sucked in air harshly.

“That should never cross Dianxia’s mind.” He murmured. “It’s my responsibility to say ‘no’ to doing something that could hurt you. I won’t… If you ask again, I’ll refuse.”

“Forever?” Xie Lian leaned back, not alarmed by that statement.

It’d be rude to say he’d already identified Hua Cheng as a ‘soft touch’, and yet… Well, suffice to say Xie Lian sincerely doubted the man would say ‘no’ to him for long.

It was such a thrilling thought, but also a puzzling one. It made something buzz nervously behind Xie Lian’s ribs. He was starting to learn the shape of Hua Cheng’s devotion, but not the consistency of it. Like a row of bao lined up on a counter, you couldn’t tell what they were made of just by the shape.

Then again, did he really need to know? Wasn’t the shape of a thing, also the thing itself? A bao was a bao, regardless of filling. Devotion was devotion, regardless of where it came from; no matter how he got to this point, the reality was Hua Cheng would not sway.

Yet an allegiance so strong could not spring from nothing, and Xie Lian had never done anything to deserve such a level of commitment. He was positive.

A conflicted expression immedaitely twisted the ghost’s face at the question.

“Gege…” Hua Cheng said, pouting. It was particularly effective in the younger form. “Don’t be cruel. You’ll be able to donate again in… hmm, three, maybe four more days if you drink and eat enough.”

“I understand.” Xie Lian lied, smiling. “I’ll keep that guideline in mind.”

Hua Cheng looked at him with the squinted eyes of mistrust, but as Xie Lian had suspected, he did not outright contradict Xie Lian.

“I think I know where we are.” Hua Cheng declared, standing. Xie Lian followed. They tangled their fingers together without a word. “I used to visit a meadow near here. There was a grove of oaks not too far off, if I remember correctly.”

He had the far-off cadence of someone looking through centuries of memory, an unsure quality to his voice that Xie Lian rarely heard from the ghost king.

Somewhere he visited as a child…?

The words planted the final roots of his certainty. Nobody had lived in this area since the fall of his kingdom; he would have known. It was still regarded as a cursed area, with all the other gods of heaven advising their worshippers to steer clear.

All the maps he’d consulted over the years– regardless of if he was capable of following them, with his luck– confirmed that no civilization had formed anywhere near the ruins of Xian Le, not even a trade route.

Xie Lian grew quiet as they indeed stepped into a sunlit meadow, absolutely filled with wildflowers. The view stole his breath, but not his train of thought.

It was something he had suspected for a while.

“Is San Lang… from Xian Le?”

Something flitted across Hua Cheng’s face, too quick to name. He nodded, a touch more jerkily than usual, but when he spoke his voice was the same smooth baritone, confident if quiet.

“Yes.”

“Then why–” Xie Lian choked off. “They all hated me by the end. Don’t you–?”

He couldn’t say it, vision clouded by the legions of resentful faces, the common people’s expressions twisting with betrayal and disappointment, resentment a miasma in the air.

“Never.”

San Lang’s voice. San Lang here and now—a lone figure breaking through the crowd, pushing the faceless ghosts back to the past where they belonged. Warm hands cupped his face, his soft, burning gaze holding Xie Lian in the very real present.

“I will always believe in you.” His deep voice, curling with his usual certainty, yet hitching audibly with his next words, as he hesitated only a moment beofre correcting himself to a more damning truth: “I will forever be your most devoted believer.”

Xie Lian gasped, hands darting up to grab Hua Cheng’s wrists.

“You–” He started, only to lose his voice to the tightness of his throat, reminiscent of nothing so much as his first meeting with Ruoye.

“I hope that doesn’t upset you.” Hua Cheng said quietly, rubbing a thumb slowly, sweetly across the apple of his cheek.

“It doesn’t.” Xie Lian whispered. If his hands were free, he’d cover his mouth, but the warm skin touching the inside of his palms was the only thing grounding him to reality—like he was literally holding on.

The honesty of it, the confession—

“You didn’t have to tell me, if you weren’t ready.” Xie Lian said, hushed. He felt like he should move closer, leaned in to that end—but there was no ‘closer’ to get. If he moved forward he’d be pressed against Hua Cheng, as firmly as they usually were during the–

If Xie Lian thought about Hua Cheng biting him right now, he would actually combust. He took a deep breath instead and tried not to choke on it.

Hua Cheng looked at him some more, dark-red gaze charged and powerful, and then gentle hands turned under Xie Lian’s, sliding away from his face and down. Somewhere along the way, the shift had Hua Cheng’s thumbs covering his own, and they were holding hands between them.

“It’s not that.”

He expected Hua Cheng to pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, he shifted forward and tucked his face into Xie Lian’s neck, their hands tangled together, pressed between their chests.

By pure habit, Xie Lian freed one hand to settle in Hua Cheng’s hair, and the ghost didn’t stop him—his fingers came free as easily as if they’d been held by the wind, no attempt to keep him.

A soft sound came out of the vampire when Xie Lian’s hand cupped his head, pulling him closer, letting him seek comfort there. Color climbed high in Xie Lian’s cheeks, but he was pleased—so pleased that Hua Cheng came to him for this, felt able to hide his face and be held.

It was not their usual teasing, felt different somehow—more open, a confession all on its own. The physical associations he had for such closeness, the way his skin tingled with anticipation for a bite that wasn’t coming—Xie Lian stuffed it down deep, impatient with himself. Honestly!

“What is it, then?” He petted Hua Cheng’s hair, marveling all over again at its thickness, the softness and individual strands that ought to be impossible. The meadow spread out around them, spring grass fresh and inviting. No sooner did he have the thought than thin fingers tugged him down, gently guiding, and Xie Lian found himself sitting on the blanket of green, exactly as nice as he’d imagined.

Xie Lian’s legs folded under him easily, crossed and stable, but Hua Cheng didn’t pull away, and so had to kneel to keep his face tucked in the crook of his neck.

A shifting; the brush of skin against his sensitive neck as the vampire moved around. He was quite certain his neck was nowhere near this sensitive before he’d met Hua Cheng.

“All of me is Gege’s.” He said. “My life, my secrets.”

He’d pressed every truth into Xie Lian’s hands, and realization closed the god’s throat for a moment.

Xie Lian had just thought him stunningly forthwright, as a general rule, and as a person, but of course it was more than that. Honesty was his gift to Xie Lian alone.

“You can lie to me.” Xie Lian protested weakly. His hand shook a little, but he stubbornly kept stroking. “I’m not anyone special.”

“No.”

Xie Lian couldn’t help but laugh. He tugged at Hua Cheng until he was leaning on Xie Lian properly, legs draped across his lap—like he had held him on the first day at Paradise Manor, carrying him through the halls. Just like back then, Hua Cheng curled up without an inch of protest; his other hand came up automatically to loop around Xie Lian’s neck, tucking in closer.

“Mmm.” Xie Lian approved, pleased. He felt the hitch of breath against his neck, and the hand around Hua Cheng’s waist shifted to continue the same petting as he’d used on his hair earlier. Xie Lian’s other was draped over a red-clad knee.

Flowers spread out around them, stretching as far as the eye could see, as bright and intricate as the woven carpets Xian Le was once famous for, tapestries of landscapes draped in blossoms of every color. The flowers of his kingdom had been everywhere, overflowing from the market stalls and spilling out of every window.

You couldn’t have Xian Le without flowers.

You couldn’t have Xie Lian without Xian Le.

The last flower of his kingdom sighed, turning his face to press his cheek into Xie Lian’s chest, no longer hiding. He brought a hand up to twist and play with the collar of Xie Lian’s robe.

“We won’t find any herbs like this, Gege.” He said idly, but didn’t make any move to get up. Then, a shy smile curled his lips as he stared at his fingers with hooded lashes: “Dianxia.”

Xie Lian hummed again, considering.

“I think.” His fingers drifted over knee, thigh, and ribs, trailing up until he could brush a stray lock of hair back from Hua Cheng’s pale, handsome face. The man looked up at him, startled enough that his red lips parted. “That I much prefer being your ‘gege’.”

Pink scattered like petals across the horizon of Hua Cheng’s face, and a little sound escaped him. His pupils widened ever so slightly—which Xie Lian noticed at once because he’s been leaning in. He jerked back up with a sheepish smile.

At this rate, they really weren’t going to find the herb Xie Lian needed.

“Does ghost city have take out?”

Hua Cheng laughed, abrupt and with a quality of having been surprised, but delighted about it. Eyes swimming with mirth, he placed his hand on Xie Lian’s opposite shoulder and pulled himself upright. For a moment, it put their faces within a hair’s breadth of each other, and Xie Lian had another shocking realization.

He very, very much wanted to kiss Hua Cheng.

For a moment, he could see it, as real as the clouds drifting across the sky.

Something about that must have shown on his face—surely it was written all across his expression—but Hua Cheng barely faltered before bringing his vision to life: Hua Cheng, in his carefree, youthful form, painted handsomely against the wildflowers, leaning in–and Xie Lian rising to meet him,  as easy and natural as the wind singing through the trees.

Hua Cheng brushed his thumb across Xie Lian’s cheek, pulling back from the delicate brush of lips on lips. Xie Lian looked back with wide eyes, mouth parted softly. Expression just as breathless, Hua Cheng offered him a dazzling smile, then pulled away.

There was a bit of shuffling, a delicious moment when they were pressed absolutely flush to each other, and then the weight and pressure of him was gone.

Xie Lian looked up to see a hand held out to him, delicate pale fingers and the sweeping arch of his palm. He took it, and was pulled gently to his feet. His lips still tingled slightly.

“Yes, there’s takeout all throughout our city.” Hua Cheng answered, grinning as though he couldn’t help himself. “But it won’t come to that, Gege. Let’s find your plant.”

—

They found the herb in question not long after the sun slipped below the horizon, and just in time, too; low, dark clouds had rolled in over the course of twilight, bringing with them the promise of a summer storm.

Hua Cheng filled his basket right up; it was news to Xie Lian that the ghost even had a basket, of course, but when he turned around it had been firmly on his arm and determinedly half-filled with herbs already, so he could only laugh as the first fat sprinkles splatted down on the shoulders of their robes.

“Gege!” Hua Cheng called. “How much do you need for your dish?”

“That’s plenty, San Lang. It’s the main ingredient, but there are only two of us.”

Hua Cheng frowned and quickly snatched up five more stems in rapid succession, then straightened up with a sigh. The basket and its contents abruptly vanished back into his sleeves.

The ghost king looked up at the sky with a frown on his face. Xie Lian followed, taking in the drops that were now growing from “mildly dampening” to “aggressively pitter pattering”; the clouds were fat and heavy with their burden, and the wind high above them was whipping them up into a proper frenzy, with the cheerful alacrity of hot summer air.

“We need a doorway for the array, Gege.” Hua Cheng said, pensive. “I’m sorry, I forgot how remote it would be with all the villages gone.”

“Don’t worry.” Xie Lian tipped his head back further to feel the rain, smelling the amazing scent of eager greenery. “We’ll take shelter for the storm, that’s all. A little water never hurt anyone.”

Still, Hua Cheng frowned, but when Xie Lian seemed genuinely unbothered, he merely sighed once more. A small smile transformed his face into something inhumanly gorgeous, and it had nothing at all to do with being a ghost.

“If I’m here with Gege, it’s fine.” He said, squeezing Xie Lian’s fingers with reassurance. “There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.”

Mindful of their conversation earlier, Xie Lian believed him.

—

They found a shallow cave to shelter from the rain (Hua Cheng’s luck) and it housed within it only a small bear (Xie Lian’s luck, though it was much milder a disaster than usual, a circumstance he attributed to Hua Cheng’s good fortune being slightly more powerful than Xie Lian’s cursed lack thereof), which was gently persuaded to lend them the cave’s use for a while (Hua Cheng looked at it a certain way and it fell into a deep state of unconsciousness, that the ghost king assured Xie Lian would be only temporary).

They enjoyed the sound of the rain, in no particular hurry to leave. It was refreshing still to Xie Lian to have such good company– exceptionally good company, really– and he had so very much practice passing the time out of doors.

Eventually, he dozed off, and when he woke, the rain had let up a little and Hua Cheng had fashioned a door for the cave made of fronds and thin vines. He only apologized that he didn’t have an axe to make a proper wooden door.

“No need, no need. If it serves our purpose well enough?” Xie Lian gestured at the mouth of the cave.

Hua Cheng rolled his dice without even glancing at the result.

“Of course.” He opened the door into Paradise Manor. For Xie Lian, it was like coming home. He paused on the threshold, absolutely struck still by the sensation.

“Is everything all right, Gege?” A concerned voice asked behind him. Concerned, but not overly so; Hua Cheng was confident in Xie Lian’s ability to handle anything he faced, and in his own ability to take care of anything Xie Lian couldn’t.

It lent a solid kind of security that Xie Lian hadn’t felt in hundreds of years. Had he ever? Maybe with Feng Xin and Mu Qing, once upon a time; the certainty that the person at his back could be trusted without exception.

“No, San Lang.” Xie Lian reached back with the easy confidence with which Hua Cheng had rolled his dice; he didn’t need to look to know Hua Cheng would take his hand, and he was right. “Everything’s just fine.”

Warm fingers curled into his, and they stepped through the doorway into the rest of their lives.

(It was only hours later that he noticed the crystal ring, placed around his neck on a thin silver chain as he slept.)

 

 

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