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Xie Lian doesn’t remember falling asleep in the woods—but then again, he had trouble remembering many things. He chooses instead—whether consciously or by way of some latent coping mechanism—to retain life’s simpler pleasures: the taste of a delicious meat bun, or the warmth of the sun on his skin, or Hua Cheng’s crinkle-eyed smile whenever Xie Lian would set a bowl of something steaming and home-cooked in front of him. With such beautiful mundanities to cling to, it’s easy to let the rest go.
Still, it’s a little concerning; his memory isn’t usually this fickle. He’s fairly certain he went to bed at Paradise Manor last night—so why did he awaken here, with leaves and sticks in his hair? His mind churns sluggishly, as if wading through thick mud; he’s become rather spoiled under Hua Cheng’s care, no longer accustomed to getting such a poor night’s sleep. Might Hua Cheng have carried him here, using a distance-shortening array? But that would be strange—and to what purpose? Other than being a little dirty, nothing else about his person seems amiss.
And anyway, Hua Cheng is nowhere in sight; Xie Lian already checked for his familiar bootprints in the earth. The piles of Fall foliage around him are faintly wet and dew-glittering, as though it had rained recently. Xie Lian’s back and shoulders also feel a bit damp and cold from having laid on the ground, but the thought isn’t so dreary now that he knows he’s got a wardrobe full of fresh robes waiting for him at Paradise Manor. (Again: spoiled.)
If he really was teleported here without his knowledge or consent, Xie Lian figures he ought to find out why. He thickens his skin and mentally recites the password to Hua Cheng’s communication array; and if his ears turn a bit red at saying the words, then at least there’s no one around to see. San Lang, he calls out, are you there?
The silence that follows his question feels decidedly heavy, but with what, Xie Lian isn’t sure. Then comes Hua Cheng’s answer, flat and icy as a frost-covered lake: Who the fuck is this, and how do you have my array password?
Xie Lian raises his palms in an instinctual gesture of surrender, but of course Hua Cheng can’t see him. San Lang, it’s me, he replies, alarmed.
A beat. You have three seconds to answer me, or I’ll bombard your head with such a frightening sound your brain leaks out your ears, Hua Cheng snarls. Xie Lian thinks he’s probably the only person alive who could detect the hint of fear in his cold, ruthless tone. Three, two—
Xie Lian seals his own spiritual power with a series of quick hand movements, buzzing with adrenaline. He might have just closed his own array and been fine, but in his shock he thought it better to be thorough. If Hua Cheng truly doesn’t recognize his voice, then of course he wouldn’t mess around with a threat like that.
So, that… doesn’t bode well. Luckily, he can find his way back to Ghost City from almost anywhere now; having lived there for five years or so, he’s become quite familiar with its entry and exit points. Perhaps if Hua Cheng could see him in person, he might still know him, and want to help. And if it’s a curse they’re dealing with, as Xie Lian is increasingly suspecting it is, he could sorely use Hua Cheng’s library, and his sharp mind to bounce off ideas.
All in all, he refuses to worry until he absolutely must. It’s a habit that’s served him well, in recent times; after all, why borrow worry from the future, only to relive it later? Resolved to his mission, Xie Lian steels himself for a long journey by foot, sparing a guilty, longing thought to Hua Cheng’s golden step-litter.
Spoiled, his traitorous mind supplies.
***
Xie Lian gives more thought to his predicament as he traverses the autumnal countryside, munching on scavenged berries while his shoes grow less and less white by the day. It would be a difficult feat for someone to place a curse on him or Hua Cheng; they were each the most powerful god or ghost that either of them knew. After all, Hua Cheng’s previous two deaths—and what a horribly sad line of thinking that is, Xie Lian bemoans, quickly losing his appetite—were both, in fact, by his own choosing. Xie Lian couldn’t say the same, of course; he’d “died” in many ridiculous and dishonorable ways while he carried the shackles, but with his power restored it would take a lot more than sickness or starvation to take him down, and keep him down.
What Xie Lian thinks is more likely is that he’s stumbled into the past. The borders between the realms had been finicky ever since Jun Wu was sealed beneath the mountain, since the god-calamity had, for lack of a better term, had his fingers in a lot of pies. Heaven, Mt. Tonglu, the Mortal Realm—their strongest mutual connection had been Jun Wu, and now, with that thread severed, time moves differently: surreal, untethered. The gods had been working hard to mitigate the impact, such that even the worst effects felt by mortals were as trivial as the seasons growing a bit longer or shorter—which Xie Lian secretly felt spoke volumes of their successful restructuring, and even more so of Ling Wen’s dire need for a vacation.
The question now is just how far back in time he’s landed. Because, ah ha, Xie Lian can’t imagine that there’s a future in which Hua Cheng would just—forget about him; the thought alone makes him shudder like he’s been doused in cold water. He’s had quite enough of being alone, thank you very much—eight hundred years of it, give or take—and more than that, he doesn’t want to be without Hua Cheng’s companionship, specifically; Xie Lian blooms under the bright beam of his attention, turns his face happily toward it like a sunflower. Hua Cheng is just so reliable, so easygoing. Easy to love. And they’re a good match—aren’t they? Xie Lian thinks he would’ve seen a few signs by now, if they truly weren’t compatible.
But then again, they’d never…
Xie Lian knocks the heel of his hand against his forehead, as if to jog the thought loose from his brain, shake the pestering thing free. Who needs such negativity? Certainly not him! He has a mission to focus on.
***
Ghost City greets him loudly, just as rowdy as before. Xie Lian stays vigilant for any signs of the past, but the only obvious discrepancy he notes is that of the fresh-faced exteriors of the buildings, which have yet to be marred by age or vandalization. Lulled by the backdrop of familiarity, Xie Lian wanders the night market for some time, smiling amiably at passersby—none he recognizes—to their plain discomfort and bewilderment. Eventually, he works up the nerve to actually speak to one of them.
“Pardon me, kind sir,” Xie Lian interjects, with a light touch to a brightly finned shoulder that stretches past his own eye level. The androgynous fish-person swivels to face him on a fat tail sparkling with iridescent scales, still managing to appear put-upon despite its inhuman features. “Er, I mean—madam—fish? Could you please tell me what day it is? And the month, and the year?”
The fish-person warbles a reply, spraying him with spittle that smells faintly of seawater. Xie Lian flinches equally at the answer and the impromptu salty shower—that’s roughly six hundred years before his San Lang found him in the future! Which means that Hua Cheng is probably just getting Ghost City up and running, and Xie Lian is presumably still… wasting away in a coffin, somewhere. The context is jarring, violently so; it makes the early days of Hua Cheng’s rule seem all the more impressive, and Xie Lian’s own floundering grasp on life at this point in time all the more pitiful.
Xie Lian continues his stroll through the market, feeling a tad morose, when suddenly there’s a commotion further down the street. Poised for trouble, he takes off toward the main square, where an eclectic crowd has already started to gather. Met with a wall of ghosts at the fringes, he watches anxiously from beyond a sea of peculiarly shaped heads as just then, a red-clad man steps down from a gilded sedan, to a mix of scattered cheers and increasingly bold bids for his attention.
“Why would I come by your stall? Your food is terrible,” drawls a familiar voice, cocky and laidback. Xie Lian gasps, straining on his tiptoes, and gets elbowed squarely in the nose for his efforts.
The mob hoots and hollers, goading him on like he’s putting on a one-man show. Parting the crowd seamlessly, Hua Cheng redoubles his searing commentary: “You’re all lazy conmen! Don’t beckon me so sweetly, I can see right through it. And you! You sell knockoffs, you think I don’t know?”
Xie Lian watches with something like awe—or morbid fascination—as the Ghost City residents seem to eat it up, all flashing teeth and raucous laughter, yet still plainly deferential to their lord. It isn’t as though he hasn’t seen Hua Cheng interact with his people before, in all the time they’ve known one another—but to be so young, and command such presence? Xie Lian can’t imagine a world where this sort of thing might fly in Xianle, back when he was a prince; the disparity tickles him, so wildly at odds with his own coddled experience.
“San Lang!” Xie Lian calls, before he can really stop himself, or think. He streaks forward through the crowd, bumping against hairy arms and feathered wings and other strange appendages, and reminds himself just in time to bow. “I mean, Hua Chengzhu, please— if I may possibly steal a moment of your time?”
The citizens of Ghost City laugh a little meanly at him for his presumptuousness, which Xie Lian takes duly in stride. But for Hua Cheng’s part, he— he gapes at Xie Lian, wears his devastating shock plain on his pale face. He’s wearing a skin not so unlike his true form, but he’s got both eyes today, a pretty black pair, and a clean updo that contains his hair to one long, dark swoop down his spine. Xie Lian realizes then that he’s been staring, and quickly forces his head back down.
“You,” Hua Cheng says, with an audible click of his throat. “Y-Your Highness is familiar with… this one?”
Xie Lian nods emphatically. “Yes! Yes, very familiar, but I beg you allow me to explain,” he replies, practically tripping over the words in his haste. This Hua Cheng is meeting me for the first time, he reminds himself, and all at once becomes terribly self-conscious of his drab appearance: his grass-stained robes, and hair entangled with twigs like some eccentric, woodland creature—not to mention his freshly bleeding nose. He bows deeper. “Um, pray Hua Chengzhu excuse my… less than acceptable state. I was eager to see you.”
“Not at all,” Hua Cheng assures him, voice strained. He coaxes Xie Lian from his bow with a barely-there touch over his sleeves, exceedingly gentle, as if afraid Xie Lian might spook like a deer. He seems to drink him in deeply, when Xie Lian finally lifts his gaze to face him head-on. “You’re beautiful,” he adds, quietly—seemingly without thinking, by the way he goes stiff as a board afterward and immediately glances away.
Xie Lian actually blushes, feeling completely ridiculous about it. He shakes his head in protest, as if that might dispel some of the warmth on his face. “Ah, San Lang is much too forgiving of this one.”
“…San Lang?” Hua Cheng echoes, wonderingly. His eyes widen in realization, so heartbreakingly emotive. “That means… it was also you before, in my communication array.”
This time, it’s he who bends his neck, and kneels before Xie Lian in a truly spectacular display of self-flagellation. There’s a hearty gasp from the surrounding rabble, and then the crowd gives the odd appearance of undulating as ghosts start to push in closer for the chance to glimpse their lord bowing down to another, a rare sight indeed. Xie Lian waves his hands in dismay, adamantly opposed to such a gesture, but of course Hua Cheng can’t see him like this. “Your Highness, in my ignorance I had nearly brought harm to you, and for that there is no excuse. Please, allow me to impart upon you my sincerest apol—”
“No, no, please— how could you have known?” Xie Lian interrupts him, harried. He cannot bear to let Hua Cheng degrade himself like this, especially in front of his people. He crouches down so they’re at a level with each other, whispering fervently, “I know this must all seem very sudden and strange. But in another time—where I come from—you and I are quite close, you see, so naturally you were the first person I thought to reach out to…” He trails off, suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of history between them that he’s been tasked with explaining.
A throat clearing. “Your Highness and I are… close?”
The way Hua Cheng looks up at him then, so unguarded and hopeful, is so viscerally endearing that Xie Lian fears he might do something spontaneous and untoward, like kiss him. Then it occurs to him that this Hua Cheng probably wouldn’t mind, which flusters him even more.
“Um, I don’t mean to make any demands, San— Hua Chengzhu, but perhaps we might go somewhere more private… like your Paradise Manor, to have this conversation?”
Hua Cheng rises briskly to his feet, as if jerked by a leash. The movement calls to Xie Lian’s mind, unprovoked, the heartrending image of his Wu Ming, bent at the knee—so determined to please him, to the point of destruction. But of course, Hua Cheng isn’t Wu Ming the Wrath anymore; he’s the Ghost King, Crimson Rain Sought Flower, with all the power that title entails. And still, for some unfathomable reason, he bends to Xie Lian’s will. “Of course. Whatever you wish,” he concedes, ever the gracious host.
Xie Lian aches to put this Hua Cheng at ease; he feels awful, catching him off guard like this. The Hua Cheng he knows is so calm and collected, so confident—but Xie Lian knows that was by design, that Hua Cheng worked hard to become that way. And even with the advantage of time, and centuries of settling into his skin, the Hua Cheng of his world still chose to meet him on that ox cart wearing a winsome, boyish face—still chose to present himself to Xie Lian as a complete stranger—because he ultimately found it easier, less threatening. And by showing up here in his city unannounced, Xie Lian has robbed him of that choice.
Feeling a little like he might cry, Xie Lian plasters on a big smile, aware that he’s overcompensating now but unable to help himself. He gushes, “Thank you so much for your hospitality!”
***
“You’ve worked hard, Hua Chengzhu,” Xie Lian tells him, letting his admiration sing clearly in his voice as Hua Cheng leads him through the halls of a newly erected Paradise Manor. “If it’s not too forward to say… I’m very proud.”
Hua Cheng stands a little straighter at his side. But rather than seeming buoyed by the words, like a child receiving praise, he looks oddly charmed—like Xie Lian is an enigma to him, his strange flattery something to hold dear. “Your Highness is kind to say so.”
Xie Lian flushes at the warmth in his gaze. “I only meant— I hope, with time, you can also… relax a little bit. Settle into your role. I understand you have a lot of responsibility, but you deserve to reap the rewards of your labor, too.”
Hua Cheng looks ruminative as they settle themselves on the divan in his grand receiving room. It feels strangely empty without the dancing girls, or a masked Yin Yu flitting about; Xie Lian isn’t quite sure when he entered the picture.
“With respect, Your Highness, I won’t be relaxing any time soon,” Hua Cheng says mildly. “It’s imperative that I maintain a strong position. I won’t allow myself to grow complacent.”
Xie Lian frowns. “But— the citizens of Ghost City love you!” That fact was made clear as day in the market earlier. “Surely if anything bad were to happen, or if you ever fell on hard times, your people would rally behind you?”
Hua Cheng stares off into the distance, hands curling into fists where they rest on his thighs. Xie Lian observes his clean, pink nails almost wonderingly; he wasn’t yet painting them black, then. Another minute detail about his favorite person that he could file away, for later inspection.
When Hua Cheng answers, his voice is like steel—like finest armor, sturdy and protective. “I refuse to rely on others ever again.”
Xie Lian thinks of his own downfall, which Hua Cheng witnessed in real time—the Xianle people who’d once adored him suddenly cursing his name, desecrating his temples—and rubs his own arms, chastened. “Ah. That’s wise,” he concedes. “You were brought up… very differently from me. You must think me naive.”
Hua Cheng whips his head around, looking stung. “Of course not,” he replies—emphatic, like the very idea offends him. “Or, at least, I don’t just see naivety. Your Highness was repeatedly hurt by the common people, yet still chooses to harbor faith in them, to believe in the innate goodness of humanity. I find that rather commendable. Indeed, I find it impressive. It’s one of the many reasons that I f—” He stops himself, course-corrects. “That I’ve followed Your Highness, all these years.”
“You give me too much credit,” Xie Lian insists, gripping Hua Cheng’s hands firmly between his, as if to temper his fervor. “I know I am idealistic to a fault, and I’m quite aware of the flaws in my own philosophies. It’s just that I refuse to be any other way,” he elaborates, thinking disparagingly of Bai Wuxiang, “because to expect the worst of people all the time seems a miserable way to live. Don’t you think?”
Hua Cheng stares down at his lap, at their clasped hands. A moment later, Xie Lian jerks in his seat, catching the implication of his own words too late. “I— I didn’t mean to say that you’re miserable! Of course, it’s important to protect oneself. You didn’t have a privileged life, after all, so how could you scoff at the idea of having a safety net, the way I can? Not everyone is so content with losing face or living in disrepute—nor should they be! Ah, I’ve really… said too much.” He rubs his forehead, feeling wrong-footed and embarrassed by his rambling. What a horrible impression he’s making! “Forgive me, Hua Chengzhu. I spoke out of turn.”
“It isn’t miserable,” Hua Cheng rebuts, surprising him. “I consider it my burden in life, my purpose, to see the world for what it is. And in turn, I leave the arduous task of compassion to those who are better suited to it.” His gaze settles on Xie Lian, heavy with meaning.
Xie Lian feels his heart give a pathetic kick. That this Hua Cheng could look at him covered in dirt, a disgraced and freshly fallen god, and still find his compassion admirable. How ridiculous. How wonderful. This depth of feeling, from such simple words; it’s as though he might—what? Fall in love with him? How foolish. Xie Lian already has.
***
“Your Highness implied a curse earlier, or at the very least a strange circumstance. I’m hoping you’ll help me to understand.”
“Ah. Of course.” Xie Lian is forced to acknowledge then just how patient Hua Cheng has been, to let him ramble on about his misguided convictions without even really knowing why he’s here. “Well, you see… and when I say this, I’ll sound like I’ve gone stupid, but the honest truth is: I came from the future. Roughly six hundred years or so.”
He anticipates Hua Cheng’s skepticism preemptively, and rushes to add, “I can prove it! Since you heard me say earlier that we became close, I naturally learned many things about you. For instance, I know that you’re from Xianle, and that you’ve gone by several other names. When I was the Crown Prince, you were Little Red. When I went to war, you were my soldier. And when I needed a light, you were there at my back, my little ghost flame. I know about this,” he says, reaching out to pinch the red coral bead in Hua Cheng’s hair, “and even the time when— when you had no name at all. I won’t go into such detail, since it’s not necessary to dredge up the past, or reopen old wounds. But I… I hope you’ll believe me,” he finishes lamely.
Hua Cheng looks caught between relief and utter bafflement. “Then, if Your Highness has already reckoned with my past,” he begins uncertainly—as though the full weight of his love and devotion had been a tiresome obstacle for Xie Lian to maneuver, as opposed to the precious treasure that it is, “might I ask how we became further acquainted?”
Acquainted! So formal, Xie Lian wants to tease, before he realizes that he never actually explained.
“Oh, we met on a wagon,” he says affably, waving a hand. “I fell off the map for a while, but I ascended again some odd centuries later, and that’s when you found me. You kept a few secrets, at first—which was well within your right!—but you were very respectful about it. We became fast friends; it was wonderful.”
Xie Lian wrings his hands, nervous all of a sudden. Before he knows it, he’s blurting out the rest. “Actually, we’re… that is… involved. Romantically.” It’s a uniquely discomfiting task, to have to tell someone that they’re in love with you. “Ah ha, actually, we’ve even talked about… getting married.”
Warmth blooms behind his ribcage at the mere, flighty prospect of it. It had admittedly been less of a deliberate conversation between them, and more of an idle suggestion on Hua Cheng’s part; Xie Lian had tried not to seem too keen, since Hua Cheng was apparently prone to joking proposals. But the topic had fizzled, and Xie Lian isn’t quite sure where they stand on it now, or if it’s even really all that important. They’re already together in seemingly all of the ways that matter.
A stunned silence follows his admission, so long that Xie Lian starts to fidget. Finally, Hua Cheng shifts on the divan to face him head-on, looking grave.
“Your Highness, did someone… put you up to this?” he asks, wincing but clearly trying not to. “Your Highness can tell me honestly. Whatever the case, I will help you.”
Xie Lian feels unexpectedly hurt by his reaction. He drops his gaze to his folded hands. “Is it really… so unbelievable?”
Xie Lian has been privy to ten thousand glaring manifestations of Hua Cheng’s feelings for him, meticulously carved into stone. He reminds himself, often, that that’s far more than most people ever receive in a lifetime. Xie Lian does not need three bows from him, too; that’s just him being unreasonable, and old-fashioned.
“Your Highness, of course it’s unbelievable,” Hua Cheng tells him, gentle but firm. “To me, Your Highness epitomizes all the beauty and meaning to be gleaned from living, and has ever since I was young. Would it not be too… narcissistic, if I believed you so readily?”
“Nar— Narcissistic,” Xie Lian parrots, fumbling the syllables in his shock. Hua Cheng was laying it on thick, without even meaning to. “You think I’m too good for you? Please, be reasonable. On the contrary, isn’t that not giving yourself enough credit? If the thought of us being married is so unappealing, I’d rather you said so plainly, instead of trying to save me face where I don’t want any.” Xie Lian is almost proud of himself, for the way his voice doesn’t waver even once.
“Your Highness, I am being reasonable,” Hua Cheng insists, but he seems distressed by Xie Lian’s tongue-lashing, and gives in easily. “It’s not that I don’t want to believe it. It’s that I want to believe it too much,” he admits.
“Believe me, then.” Xie Lian suddenly feels it imperative, that Hua Cheng do so. He isn’t used to getting such pushback from him, well-meaning or not. Perhaps it was the way that Xie Lian fell for him so steadily—their fast but genuine friendship giving way, also quite expeditiously, to earnest romance—that the Hua Cheng of his world found their relationship believable. “It’s a good life, I promise. For me, every bad thing I endured was worth it, because we found each other. I’m happy,” he says, and inexplicably bursts into tears.
Hua Cheng’s hands fly up to his shoulders, hovering close, as if afraid to make first contact. He looks panicked, and peeved by his own helplessness.
“You can hug me, please,” Xie Lian warbles, wiping his eyes furiously with his sleeves. He doesn’t know why he’s having such a hard time. Hasn’t it only been a few short days like this?
And then, Xie Lian—he’s held. Or rather, Hua Cheng holds him. He strokes a big hand up the knobs of his spine, slow and steady, and lets his palm come to rest at Xie Lian’s nape. Wraps his other arm around Xie Lian’s waist, solid and comforting; tugs him close, so they’re bumping knees. And Xie Lian feels… grounded, almost at once—like there were loose pieces of himself just floating around, bumping into the walls and the crown molding, that are only now slotting back into place.
“It’s alright. It’s alright to be frightened,” Hua Cheng soothes, petting his matted hair reassuringly. Xie Lian wants to rebut that out of instinct, until he looks inward, and realizes that maybe he is scared. “I believe you, Your Highness. We’ll figure this out.” Then, quieter: “Thank you for finding me.”
Xie Lian melts.
***
In Hua Cheng’s library later, fresh from his bath and researching time travel of all things, Xie Lian broaches yet another topic with him that feels a bit surreal.
“Could I maybe… see you in your true form?”
Intellectually, Xie Lian knows that his beloved is right here, sitting across the dark wood table from him. But against all logic or reason, Xie Lian can’t help but miss him still, just a little. He misses his eyepatch. Ridiculous.
But if Hua Cheng is at all perturbed by his request, he doesn’t show it. A moment later, the real Hua Cheng is in front of him—sweetly familiar, a boon on Xie Lian’s weary heart. His style of dress is noticeably simpler, absent his butterfly necklace and stacked silver girdles, but barring that he’s much the same.
“Oh. Hello,” Xie Lian greets him, nonsensically.
Hua Cheng quirks his lips. “Hey, gege,” he responds in kind, taking Xie Lian’s strange antics in stride.
Gege. Xie Lian smiles at him helplessly.
“Thank you, San Lang,” he says softly. Then he forces himself to focus on his scrolls again, lest he be further distracted.
***
“White No-Face is to blame, then?” Hua Cheng summarizes neatly, once Xie Lian has finally paused to take a breath. Truly, no one could ever accuse Hua Cheng of not listening to him when he talked.
Xie Lian rests his cheek in his hand, exhausted by his own long-windedness. But for his rather large part in it, he felt that Hua Cheng was owed the full story. “Indirectly, but yes. The borders were compromised when he fell from power.”
Hua Cheng nods along, deep in thought. “He managed to hide for a while, then, the trash. But in the end—we got him?”
They lock eyes across the table. The look is charged with years of shared, unbridled hatred, for this being that has caused them both such grief and exorbitant loss.
Without conscious thought, Xie Lian starts to smirk, the power of hindsight going straight to his head. To be able to divulge such information to Hua Cheng now is an unexpected perk of this strange glitch in time, serendipitous and oddly satisfying.
“Yes,” Xie Lian tells him, smug. “Yes, we got him.”
***
“It sounds like time discrepancies are commonplace right now, and Your Highness might even wake up tomorrow and find things are back to normal,” Hua Cheng reassures him heartily, as they’re winding down for the night.
Heavy with fatigue and already dreaming of a soft bed, Xie Lian feels inclined to agree with him, at least for the moment. He dearly appreciates Hua Cheng’s levity, in the wake of such uncertainty.
“It was very wise indeed that Your Highness came here,” he adds, unnecessarily kind. “Perhaps by going to sleep in Paradise Manor tonight, it might even ease the process of finding your way back.”
He shifts on his feet slightly, a nervous tick, and at first Xie Lian can’t parse the reason for it. Then realization dawns like a blow to the head.
Oh, Xie Lian finally grasps, he’s trying to say goodbye.
“Perhaps it’s too forward of me, but I have to ask,” Hua Cheng says suddenly, stepping forward to take Xie Lian by the hand. “Where are you right now, in this timeline? If there’s any chance that I could find you sooner…” He trails off at Xie Lian’s pained look, inclining his head in subtle deference.
“Ah, San Lang, San Lang,” Xie Lian intones sadly, squeezing his hand. “You won’t like my answer, but you’ll just have to believe me. It’s really better if I don’t say.” Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, to let Hua Cheng find him in the coffin—to be able to offer that version of himself some reprieve. But he knows deep down that it would only cause them both more grief—and he rather prefers the low-key way they went about meeting, anyway, surrounded by hay bales and red maple trees.
A drop of something wet lands on the top of his hand. Xie Lian stares dumbly at it for a long moment, before he finally traces its source. “Ah? Don’t cry! Please know that it makes me very happy, that you’d even want to find me.” Hua Cheng makes a wounded noise at that, prompting Xie Lian to take him firmly by shoulders. “Didn’t I already say that it would all be worth it? We found each other! And I wouldn’t trade our story for any other one.”
Hua Cheng nods forlornly, sniffles. Xie Lian stares up at his beloved face, the unhappy slant of his mouth. He wouldn’t trade their story, no, but he thinks he would love Hua Cheng in every version of it.
“Can I kiss you goodnight?” Xie Lian asks, as recklessly as he’d done anything else that day. It would only be goodnight, not goodbye.
Hua Cheng’s teary eye flashes wide, just as he expected. Xie Lian shuffles closer, emboldened by his sweet vulnerability, and is rewarded with an arm around his waist for the second time that day, reeling him in. Hua Cheng rests their foreheads together, close and intimate.
“I will marry you someday,” Hua Cheng tells him—quiet, reverent. “I won’t forget. Your Highness, believe me.”
Xie Lian shivers as the familiar words settle over him like a veil. He doesn’t know what will happen tomorrow, but the promise of it now feels right. He tips his face up.
“Alright. I believe you,” he says, smiling.