Chapter Text
Xie Lian dashed through the teleportation array, the world blurring for a moment. The second he arrived, a deafening crash echoed through the halls.
Something heavy slammed against the wall. The entire manor trembled as if a storm had broken loose inside it.
A furious yell filled the halls. The voice was unmistakable.
Hua Cheng.
“San Lang!” Xie Lian shouted, already running.
Servants scattered from the corridors, some ducking behind pillars, others fleeing entirely. Another violent crash erupted from the bed chambers.
“Your Highness!” Yin Yu hurried after him, clearly distressed. “Please be careful-!”
The doors to the chamber burst open with a thunderous bang, flying off their hinges as if kicked from the inside. A gust of spiritual energy surged outward, whipping Xie Lian’s sleeves and hair back.
Xie Lian kept his pace, rushing straight through the ruined doorway. The sight inside stopped him instantly.
The bedchamber looked like it had been attacked by a hurricane. Furniture was overturned. Screens were torn apart. A massive wardrobe lay split in two, wood shards scattered across the floor.
Hua Cheng stood before him, but he wasn't alone.
E-Ming was already drawn, its curved blade gleaming coldly as it clashed violently against another saber. The sharp ring of metal echoed through the ruined chamber as sparks scattered between the two weapons.
Opposing Hua Cheng was a young soldier clad in worn armor, his face hidden behind a pale smiling mask. Despite the mask’s fixed expression, the fury beneath it was unmistakable. He drove his blade forward again and again with fierce determination, each strike fueled by confusion, rage, and an unyielding instinct to protect.
At the same time, Hua Cheng’s free hand was occupied.
He pushed his palm against a small child’s bandaged face, gripping firmly to keep the boy from throwing himself into the fight. The child, no older than ten, twisted and kicked with wild, furious energy, his small boots repeatedly trying to stomp Hua Cheng’s shins.
“Let go of me!” the boy shouted, struggling with all the strength his small body could muster. His face was flushed with anger, his uncovered eye blazing with stubborn defiance as he fought against the iron grip holding him back.
Xie Lian recognized the three of them at once.
Hua Cheng: Standing before him in the form he wore now, composed and dangerous, eye burning with that familiar, unshakable devotion.
Wu Ming: The quiet, steadfast soldier who had followed him into ruin without hesitation, whose loyalty had never wavered even when the world had turned its back on him.
Hong-er: The small, fierce child who had once looked up at him as if he were the only light left in a collapsing sky, faith shining brighter than fear.
They were different faces, different names, different lifetimes; yet the soul beneath them was the same - unyielding, devoted, and entirely his.
Xie Lian cautiously entered the room, taking in the sight before him, “San Lang… what happened?”
Wu Ming froze the instant he heard his voice. Slowly, the masked soldier turned toward the doorway.
Even without seeing his face, Xie Lian could feel the shock radiating from him.
“…Your Highness?”
Hua Cheng’s shoulders stiffened. “… Gege.”
Beside him, Wu Ming twisted with killing intent. “How dare you address His Highness like that!” He let loose a strong kick towards Hua Cheng’s stomach. “Your Highness, step back! This ghost is danger-“
Hua Cheng moved faster than the eye could follow. With one swift motion, he caught the soldier’s kicking leg mid-strike and flung him across the room. Wu Ming crashed hard into a shattered screen, wood splintering beneath the impact.
Hua Cheng flicked his hand dismissively. “You insignificant fool,” he said coldly. “You’re not strong enough yet.”
Wu Ming rose instantly, fury burning beneath that fixed smiling mask. His sword snapped back into position, blade leveled as he prepared to charge again.
“Enough!” Xie Lian’s voice halted the chaos instantaneously, silence falling over the wrecked room.
He walked further into the chamber, his gaze sweeping across the broken furniture, the scattered debris, and the three versions of the same soul standing before him. “If we’re going to get to the bottom of this,” he said calmly, folding his hands behind his back, “everyone needs to settle down and play nice.”
One by one, all three of them bowed their heads obediently. Watching this, Xie Lian couldn’t help the small, amused smirk tugging at his lips.
“First,” Xie Lian said, raising a hand with gentle authority, “San Lang, let Hong-er go.”
Hua Cheng’s jaw tightened. For a brief moment it looked like he might argue, but under Xie Lian’s calm gaze the Ghost King finally relented.
With visible reluctance, he lowered his arm and released the boy. The instant his grip loosened, Hong-er twisted free like a raging, little storm. He immediately swung his leg up and delivered a kick that hit Hua Cheng squarely in the shin.
Hua Cheng’s eye twitched. “You little, worthless brat!” he snapped, glaring down at the child. “I’ll string you up from the ceiling!”
“No, no, no!” Before the situation could escalate again, Xie Lian strode over. He scooped Hong-er up with practiced ease and settled him comfortably on his hip.
Hong-er continued to glare at Hua Cheng from the safety of Xie Lian’s arms, still fuming.
Xie Lian gave Hua Cheng a mildly reproachful look. “San Lang, I will not tolerate my husband being mean to himself,” he said patiently. “We’ve talked about this.”
The room went very still.
“…Your Highness.” The quiet voice came from the side.
Xie Lian turned.
Wu Ming had already dropped to his knees. His sword lay forgotten on the floor beside him as he knelt upright, hands placed solemnly in his lap. His posture was rigid as if he were bracing himself against something unbearable. “Your Highness…” he repeated, voice hollow. “What… did you call him?” Even with the smiling mask hiding his face, the despair radiating from him was unmistakable. It poured off him like a shadow.
“Hold on, Wu Ming, don’t get upset!” Xie Lian said quickly, raising a placating hand. “It’s alright. We’re going to talk this out.”
“Gege, don’t bother -”
“Stop calling him that!” Wu Ming’s voice cracked like a whip across the room. His hands clenched so tightly in his lap that the knuckles had gone stark white. The tremor in his shoulders gave light to the storm raging in his chest.
Hua Cheng’s eye narrowed, the corner of his mouth beginning to curl.
Before he could get a word out, Xie Lian swiftly reached over, grabbed Hua Cheng by the wrist, and firmly sat him down on the edge of the bed. With complete seriousness, he drew his fingers across his own lips in a clear zip gesture.
Hua Cheng stared at him. Only the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he was restraining several extremely unhelpful remarks.
Satisfied, Xie Lian turned back to the others. “I just walked into this room,” he said delicately. “Can everyone please wait calmly while I try to figure out what’s going on?”
Still holding Hong-er, he crouched down and attempted to set the boy on the rug near the entrance of the room, hoping to create at least a little distance between the three increasingly hostile versions of the same person.
The moment Xie Lian tried to lower him, Hong-er tightened his grip. The small child clung stubbornly to his robes, refusing to let go. Instead, he buried his face deeper into the crook of Xie Lian’s neck, arms wrapped tightly around him like a lifeline. Clearly, he had no intention of being put down.
Sensing the other two gearing up to start a fight, Xie Lian gathered Hong-er in his arms and motioned them both to stand down. “San Lang,” he continued, deliberately choosing his words, “without pet names for the moment… what exactly happened today? Why are there three of you?” Still holding Hong-er on his hip, Xie Lian walked across the wrecked room toward his husband.
Hua Cheng had already leaned back against the headboard, one arm draped lazily over the silk sheets as though the destruction around them had nothing to do with him. The posture was relaxed, but the sharp glint in his eye suggested he was still very much alert. “I came across a talisman earlier,” he remarked. “It was being sold in the Ghost Market.” He reached into his sleeve and produced a crumpled strip of yellow paper, now slightly scorched around the edges.
“The vendor claimed it could separate one’s consciousness, bring forth different aspects of the same soul. Naturally, anything with that kind of claim is far too dangerous to leave unchecked, so I confiscated it and brought it back here to examine it.”
Xie Lian nodded slowly.
“I assumed it required a ritual to activate,” Hua Cheng continued, irritation creeping into his voice. “Most talismans like this need spiritual energy, blood, or at least a deliberate invocation.” He tapped the paper between two fingers. “The script was written in an old dialect. I was trying to decipher the seal when I read part of the inscription aloud to test the phrasing. Turns out the activation phrase was embedded directly in the text.”
Xie Lian blinked. “So the moment you spoke it…”
Hua Cheng gave a dry laugh. “The talisman interpreted it as a command.” He gestured toward the other two. “And here we are.”
Wu Ming sat rigidly on the floor.
Hong-er clung stubbornly to Xie Lian’s neck.
Xie Lian looked between them, absorbing the situation. “…I see.” He considered it for a moment before asking the most important question. “Is there a way to reverse it?”
“Of course,” Hua Cheng replied easily. “Yin Yu is already looking into it. Soon enough you’ll have your one and only San Lang again.” He flashed a slow, devilish grin.
Xie Lian immediately felt heat creep up his neck.
Hong-er, still clinging tightly to Xie Lian, furrowed his brows with deep suspicion. The child studied Hua Cheng as though trying to solve an unpleasant puzzle. With clear disapproval, he tightened his arms around Xie Lian’s neck, pressed his cheek possessively against the side of Xie Lian’s face and stuck his tongue out at Hua Cheng.
Hua Cheng’s eye twitched. “Gege,” he said flatly, “put that thing down. It’s dirty.” His posture straightened slightly, fingers flexing with restrained irritation.
Xie Lian sighed softly and glanced toward the corner of the room. Wu Ming was still kneeling exactly where he had been before. Even though his mask concealed his expression, the dejection radiating from him was almost painful to witness.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian said quietly, “please, no pet names right now.”
Hua Cheng clicked his tongue but didn’t argue. He tilted his head slightly toward the child in Xie Lian’s arms. “That little thing is greedy,” he said fervently. “If you don’t put your foot down, he’ll keep taking.”
“San Lang!” Xie Lian said sharply. Balancing Hong-er with one arm, he brought his free hand up to massage his forehead, clearly trying to stave off the headache forming behind his temples. “If everyone can’t settle down,” he warned, glancing pointedly between the three of them, “then you’re all going to be put in separate rooms.”
The effect was immediate. Satisfied with the sudden, silent obedience, Xie Lian continued more calmly. “Let me speak with each of you first, one at a time, without interruptions. Then we’ll decide what to do next.”
He lowered his gaze to the child still clinging to him. The sternness in his expression softened instantly. “My sweet Hong-er,” he said gently, brushing a stray strand of hair away from the boy’s face, “can you sit quietly for me while we figure this out?”
Hong-er looked up at him, eye filled with worry. After a moment, the boy slowly shook his head, tightening his arms again as if afraid the moment he let go something terrible would happen.
Xie Lian’s heart ached. He cupped the boy’s small face with one hand and leaned toward him, lowering his voice to a warm whisper. “No one here will hurt you,” he promised. “This is my home.” His thumb brushed reassuringly along the boy’s cheek. “Please sit for a moment. I’ll be right back.”
Hong-er hesitated at first. Very slowly, he loosened his grip, his arms slipping from around Xie Lian’s neck, allowing himself to be lowered onto the rug. Even then, his gaze never left Xie Lian’s face, as if making sure he truly meant what he said.
Once the boy was seated, Xie Lian gently placed a hand on top of Hong-er's head and ruffled his hair slightly. A bright smile spread across his face, “Good boy.”
Hong-er’s face instantly lit up, the praise striking him like sunlight after a storm. His back straightened with pride, and he sat a little taller on the rug, clearly determined to live up to the words.
Across the room, however, the other two looked progressively more miserable by the minute.
Wu Ming remained bound by tension, shoulders tight with restrained emotion beneath the smiling mask. Hua Cheng watched the scene with a narrow gaze, his expression darkening with faint irritation.
Xie Lian rose and walked back over to the bed. “San Lang,” he said, lowering his voice slightly, “we need to come up with a game plan. What should we do?”
Hua Cheng leaned back against the headboard as though the entire situation were only mildly inconvenient. “We wait it out,” he replied. “There are plenty of rooms in Paradise Manor. Stick the two of them somewhere, and let Yin Yu figure out how to undo it.”
As he spoke, he rose to sit at the edge of the bed. Without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed Xie Lian by the waist, pulling him neatly between his legs. The movement was smooth, shameless, and completely deliberate.
“Take your hands off His Highness!” Wu Ming exploded into motion. The soldier shot to his feet and charged forward, saber already unsheathed, fury boiling over as he barreled straight toward the bed.
“Ruoye!”
White silk snapped from Xie Lian’s arm like a flash of lightning. The ribbon shot across the room and wrapped tightly around Wu Ming before he could reach them, binding his arms and torso in an instant. His momentum carried him another step before the silk yanked tight, sending him crashing down onto the floor.
Wu Ming struggled fiercely against the bindings, but Ruoye held fast.
Xie Lian turned sharply toward the Ghost King before him. “San Lang!” he scolded. “Stop provoking him!” He gestured helplessly toward the struggling soldier on the floor. “You’re the one instigating yourself!”
“Gege, these two need to understand where things stand,” Hua Cheng said coolly. “Otherwise, they’ll keep trying to pull you away.”
Xie Lian exhaled slowly. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied, “and for the time being, keep your hands to yourself.”
Hua Cheng tilted his head, “Has this devoted believer not waited long enough for His Highness’s affection?”
“San Lang!”
From the rug, Hong-er had begun to seethe, glaring daggers toward the bed, small fists clenched tight in his lap. Across the room, Wu Ming, still bound in white silk, looked entirely different. His head hung low, shoulders heavy, the devastation rolling off him almost tangible even behind the smiling mask.
Xie Lian let out a quiet sigh.
“Gege-“
“San Lang,” Xie Lian said sharply, cutting him off with a warning glance. “Sit quietly.”
Hua Cheng lifted his hands slightly in mock surrender, falling quiet.
Xie Lian turned his attention to the soldier on the floor. “Wu Ming,” he said gently, crouching down beside him, “I’m going to let you go. Please don’t fight. I know you’re scared and confused.”
The masked soldier slowly lifted his head. “Your Highness…” His voice was tentative, fragile. He looked at Xie Lian as though clinging to the sight of him. “Okay.”
At the unspoken command, Ruoye loosened its hold. The white silk unwound itself gracefully and slipped back toward Xie Lian’s arm.
Freed, Wu Ming remained kneeling where he was.
Xie Lian reached down and helped him up from the floor. “My beautiful Wu Ming,” he said softly. “It has been a long time since we donned these masks.” His eyes lingered on the pale smiling faceplate. “It reminds me of a very difficult time. Will you please remove it?”
Wu Ming hesitated. “Your Highness…” he murmured, the words strained with uncertainty.
“Please,” Xie Lian said softly. “It troubles me immensely to see you this way.”
Wu Ming slowly raised his hands to his face. His fingers brushed the edges of the smiling mask, faltering. His hands trembled, hovering against the cold surface as though removing it required more courage than facing an army.
Seeing this, Xie Lian stepped closer and gently reached out, intending to cup his face in reassurance. The moment his fingers neared him, Wu Ming recoiled. Like a startled deer, he flinched sharply away from the touch, shoulders tightening as though he had been burned.
From the bed came a quiet, disdainful scoff, “Pathetic.” Hua Cheng lounged on the mattress, long legs stretched out comfortably as if the tension in the room amused him. He donned a devilish grin as he idly rolled the red pearl at the end of his braid between his fingers.
“San Lang…” Xie Lian sighed, the reprimand gentle but firm. “Please... give him grace.”
Hua Cheng said nothing, though the faint curl of his lip remained. He reached for a tea cup that had been set aside earlier that evening, distracting himself from the scene in front of him.
Xie Lian turned back to Wu Ming, his expression softening again. “It’s alright,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to be afraid.” His voice lowered, warm with sincerity. “You are perfect exactly as you are.”
Wu Ming’s shoulders trembled faintly.
“And I’m so sorry,” Xie Lian continued, the regret in his voice unmistakable. “I was so cruel to you back then. You never deserved that.” He met the smiling mask directly, as though speaking to the eyes behind it. “You deserve nothing but kindness… and unbridled happiness.”
Xie Lian gently reached forward again, his fingers carefully covering the soldier’s trembling hand. Slowly, patiently, he guided it upward toward the edge of the smiling mask.
Wu Ming followed the motion out of instinct rather than courage. The moment the mask uncovered his pale face, however, his resolve faltered. His head lowered, gaze fixed on the floor. He didn’t dare look up.
“Don’t be afraid,” Xie Lian murmured. He stepped closer and lightly rested his forehead against Wu Ming’s. The contact was warm, steady, grounding. “You’re safe now.”
For a moment, the room held still until the sharp snap of ceramic breaking shattered the silence.
Across the room, Hua Cheng sat rigid against the headboard, his entire body tense with restrained fury. The tea cup he’d been idly toying with was now nothing more than crushed shards in his hand, fragments falling through his fingers onto the floor.
“Gege,” he said tightly, every word edged with strain, “while I still have an ounce of self-restraint left, I am asking you to step away from him.”
The air in the room grew heavy with his irritation. Xie Lian pulled back slightly and turned toward him with a soft sigh. “San Lang…” he said gently. “You can’t seriously be this jealous.”
Hua Cheng’s eye narrowed.
“You know it’s not like that,” Xie Lian continued, voice warm and soothing. “Please relax.”
Hong-er, still seated on the rug, watched the entire exchange, clearly absorbing every second of it.
Wu Ming, meanwhile, stood frozen where he was, caught between shame, confusion, and something far more fragile.
Hua Cheng could no longer hold back. He stood from the bed, sauntering over towards the soldier, expression full of distain. “You think I don’t know about the fucked up things going through his mind?!” Hua Cheng raised his eyebrow faintly, mocking the young man. “The things he dreams about?! Fantasizes about?! He begs and pleads to defile his God!”
Wu Ming suddenly snapped. With a raw, wordless sound, he lunged forward, snatching up his saber and driving the blade straight toward Hua Cheng’s throat. The strike was fast, born of pure emotion rather than strategy.
Hua Cheng didn’t even bother to move. With an almost bored expression, he lifted two fingers and flicked the blade aside.
Wu Ming’s saber spun wildly through the air before smacking loudly into a wooden tea table, where it stuck quivering in the wood.
“Nope! That’s it!” Xie Lian moved instantly. He grabbed Wu Ming by the arm, startling him out of his fury. “You go sit in the corner!”
Wu Ming froze for a moment. Slowly, he pulled away from Xie Lian’s grip and stepped back, his eyes burning with emotion. Without another word, he retreated to the corner.
“And you…”
Hua Cheng looked up, feigning innocence. That single obsidian eye was fixed squarely on him, gleaming with unmistakable mischief.
Xie Lian faltered for half a second under that gaze. A faint flush crept across his face, and he quickly looked away. Steadily, he steeled himself and turned back with renewed resolve. Reaching forward, he grabbed Hua Cheng’s earlobe, tugging it sharply in a rare attempt at discipline. “Stop instigating!” he scolded.
Hua Cheng blinked in genuine surprise.
“You’re going to stay right here,” Xie Lian continued firmly, “alone, while I get everyone else situated.”
Hua Cheng leaned subtly into the hold, tilting his head just enough that Xie Lian’s fingers brushed more firmly against his ear. “Your Highness…” he murmured, voice low and dangerous in the way that always meant trouble.
Xie Lian dropped his hand as if the contact had burned him.
“San Lang!” he sputtered, clearly flustered. “Why are you like this? Sit down and behave!”
Hua Cheng sighed, “ As gege wishes.” He settled back against the headboard again, propping his chin against one hand, a hint of amusement still flickering in his eye.
Conceding defeat for the time being, Xie Lian turned away and pressed two fingers lightly to his temple.
Feng Xin? Mu Qing? I’m in need of some assistance if either of you are free.
The reply came quickly.
Your Highness? Feng Xin’s voice sounded immediately concerned. Is everything okay?
Another voice cut in at once.
Of course it’s not, Mu Qing said dryly. He just asked us for help. That means something must be wrong with Crimson Rain Sought Flower.
Xie Lian sighed internally. Am I really that predictable?
The two answered in perfect unison.
Pretty much.
…Ah. Xie Lian rubbed his forehead.
Well, he continued carefully, long story short, San Lang accidentally activated a talisman that divides one’s consciousness and -
Mu Qing’s patience snapped halfway through. And…?
Xie Lian hesitated. …And now there are three of him.
Fuck-
Language, Feng Xin, Xie Lian said automatically. Please just come by when you have a moment. They keep instigating each other. It’s… quite a lot for one person to handle.
We’re on our way. We’ll be there shortly. Feng Xin replied as the spiritual connection faded.
…
In half an incense time, the two heavenly officials strolled into the chambers. Xie Lian sat on the rug, absentmindedly stroking Hong-er’s hair. Hua Cheng reclined nearby on the bed, his gaze sharp and unwelcoming as he glared at the newcomers. In the corner, Wu Ming was curled up in silence, like a shadow that had quietly taken root in the room.
“What the actual fuck?”
“Feng Xin! Language! There is a child present!” Xie Lian scolded.
“Your Highness, you failed to mention there were three different versions of him!” Feng Xin shot back, thoroughly scandalized. He jabbed a finger toward the dark corner of the room. “And who’s that one supposed to be?!”
In the corner, Wu Ming remained silent and unmoving.
“That’s Wu Ming. Leave him be for now. I need help with Hong-er, please.” Xie Lian felt the young boy’s small hands clutch tightly at his robes, fingers gripping the fabric as if afraid to let go. “It’s alright, little one,” he murmured softly, gently smoothing Hong-er’s hair. “I’ll be right back.”
Turning to the two heavenly officials, Xie Lian straightened slightly. “Please take him to the dining hall, so he can have something to eat. I’ll escort Wu Ming to his room.”
As he spoke, he turned his head toward the corner. Wu Ming had lifted his face from where it rested against his knees, heterochromatic eyes peering out.
“Gege… I wouldn’t do that. Let one of the servants escort the leech.” Hua Cheng’s voice was cool and edged with disdain. His single eye fixed on Wu Ming in the corner with open hostility.
“San Lang, please, stay here until I return.” Xie Lian pressed a hand to his throbbing temple. “This has already been far more work than I expected.”
“Crimson Rain Sought Flower is worse than usual,” Mu Qing remarked from where he leaned against the chamber door, arms crossed. His gaze flicked between Hua Cheng on the bed and the silent figure huddled in the corner. “Does that talisman have other effects? He seems… more agitated.”
“Possibly, but I don’t think that’s the reason.” Xie Lian sighed softly. “San Lang has always been prone to jealously. Apparently even more so when it comes to himself.”
“Is he wrong to feel that way?” Feng Xin interjected. “If anyone was going to steal you away from him, it would be himself.”
Xie Lian looked pensively towards Hua Cheng. His jaw was clenched tightly, his expression dark and unyielding, as if Feng Xin’s words had only confirmed his worst suspicions.
With a soft sigh, Xie Lian lifted Hong-er and placed the boy gently into Feng Xin’s arms. “Please be so very sweet to my Hong-er,” he said warmly. “He’s a good boy. He won’t cause any trouble.”
Both officials stared at him in utter disbelief.
Mu Qing was the first to recover. “Did you forget that we know exactly who this punk is?” he scoffed. “Or worse yet, who he becomes?”
“No, no. None of that negativity,” Xie Lian replied calmly, waving the concern away as if it were nothing. “I’m trusting you with his safety. He’s a sweet boy, and I’m sure he’s very hungry. Once I’ve settled Wu Ming, I’ll come and bring him to his room.”
Mu Qing and Feng Xin exchanged a look. “Yes, Your Highness,” they said at last.
The two heavenly officials turned to leave the room with Hong-er in tow. The boy looked utterly miserable in Feng Xin’s arms, his small face scrunched with unhappiness as he was carried away.
Xie Lian turned toward the corner of the room and reached out a hand. “Wu Ming, come with me, and-”
“Gege…” Hua Cheng interrupted quietly. “I would advise against that.”
Xie Lian sighed. “San Lang, why are you being so difficult right now?”
Wu Ming had already begun to rise, but he paused mid-step when he saw Hua Cheng stand from the bed. The shift was subtle, the air in the room seeming to tighten instantly.
Xie Lian hesitated for a moment before lowering his hand. The tension in the room had become thick enough to cut. “…Perhaps not,” he said quietly.
He turned toward the open doorway and called, “Mu Qing! Could you come back for a moment?”
Footsteps halted in the corridor, followed by an irritated sigh. A moment later Mu Qing reappeared at the threshold, clearly suspecting trouble already. “What now?”
Xie Lian gestured gently toward the soldier. “I’ve reconsidered. Could you escort Wu Ming for me?”
Mu Qing followed the motion of his hand. His eyes rested on the silent figure before shifting briefly toward Hua Cheng, who was watching the exchange with a dark expression. “…Escort him where?”
“To the training room by the armory,” Xie Lian said. “There’s enough space there for martial practice. Keep him entertained with some sparring until I return. Once I’ve settled Hong-er, I’ll come escort him to his room.”
Mu Qing raised a brow. “You want me to spar with him?”
“Yes,” Xie Lian replied mildly.
Mu Qing studied Wu Ming for another moment. Unlike Feng Xin, he didn’t look particularly alarmed, more calculating than anything else. “Fine. If he breaks anything, it’s on you.”
Xie Lian smiled, “Thank you.” He gracefully walked towards Wu Ming, taking his hand in his own. Xie Lian gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s alright. Go with Mu Qing for now.”
The two walked past the bed, heading for the door. Hua Cheng’s stare was sharp enough to draw blood.
Wu Ming didn’t return it. His eyes lingered on Xie Lian for just a moment longer before he lowered his gaze. “…Yes, Your Highness,” he murmured, glancing back just once before he was forced to turn towards the corridor.
Xie Lian steadied himself and took a slow breath. Behind him, he could feel a powerful presence approaching, heavy and impossible to ignore.
“Gege,” Hua Cheng said quietly, lips grazing against Xie Lian’s neck. “Only one man can be his God’s most devoted believer.”
Hua Cheng circled him slowly, like a predator closing in on its prey. His single eye was lowered, dark and sharp beneath the fringe of his hair.
“This devoted believer is selfish,” he continued softly, “He refuses to share. He demands his God’s full attention.”
Before Xie Lian could respond, an arm slipped around his waist and pulled him firmly back against a solid chest. Hua Cheng held him there possessively, grip secure. “And unfortunately,” he murmured, voice edged with quiet menace, “a shadow of your San Lang believes he should be the one by your side.” He leaned in to nip playfully at Xie Lian’s ear.
Xie Lian’s legs shuttered, threatening to crumble underneath him. The flush of his cheeks spread to the base of his neck.
“I won’t allow it.” Hua Cheng’s gaze lingered on the door Wu Ming had just exited through.
With a quiet sigh, Xie Lian turned towards his husband. He raised a hand and rested it lightly against Hua Cheng’s cheek, guiding his face so their eyes met. “San Lang, please be kind to yourself.”
Hua Cheng’s gaze settled, the fierce tension wavering for just a moment.
Xie Lian continued gently, “Please don’t be jealous. Wu Ming is so confused right now. He has so much he needs to understand.” His thumb brushed faintly against Hua Cheng’s chin, soothing and patient. “Let me get Wu Ming and Hong-er settled. The sooner we figure this out, the sooner we can go back to life as usual.” For a moment he studied Hua Cheng’s expression, as if trying to make sure his words truly reached him. “There will only ever be a single most devoted believer for a Xie Lian.” His voice warmed with quiet certainty.
Hua Cheng lifted a hand and gently tilted Xie Lian’s chin upward, gently pulling his face closer. His movements were slow and careful, as though savoring the moment, until their foreheads nearly touched and his lips hovered just a breath away. “Gege will return as soon as possible,” he murmured softly.
Xie Lian nodded. “San Lang will stay put, and he will stop causing so much trouble.”
Hua Cheng’s blinked with faint displeasure, but he lowered his head all the same. “Yes, Gege.”
Before Xie Lian could say anything more, Hua Cheng closed the remaining distance between them. His hand slipped from Xie Lian’s chin to cradle the side of his face as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to his lips, gentle and reverent, as if sealing a promise.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against Xie Lian’s. “Go, then,” he said softly. “Your San Lang will behave.”