Chapter Text
Xie Lian shrank back as the lid to the box opened, bright orange light and fresh air brushing against him for the first time in days. His body trembled, weak from lack of food and water, his eyes crusty and throbbing. When he made a noise, it came out scratchy and pathetic, his voice nearly gone from his non-stop crying.
“HEY!” someone from above him screeched. “What the fuck is this!”
“Boss?”
“Why is there a random cat in there? You think Hua Chengzhu’s never seen a cat before?!”
“O-of course, boss, but—”
“Imps! Dancing monkeys! Dragons! I send a whole team of you to the far reaches of the mortal realm in search of a creature that will impress our lord and you come back with a fucking cat?! I should disperse you all right here!”
“But, boss, this ain’t no ordinary cat!”
“What?” The screeching voice dropped into a growl. “What does that mean?”
“We came across it in some woods in the north and in the span of an hour, we watched it get struck by lightning, twice, when it wasn’t even raining! And then it just got up and walked away!”
“After, it got attacked by no less than three different predators!”
“It drowned at least once, boss. I saw it stop breathing after it washed ashore, then a few minutes later, it shook itself off and kept going…”
“It also fell into that hole and got sucked into the mud! It definitely wasn’t breathing when we pulled it out, but somehow it’s still alive! And not even a ghost!”
“So, what? You lot found an ugly stray that doesn’t know when to die? How is that going to make an impression on Hua Chengzhu, huh?! My Divine Menagerie is full of exotic beasts so rare they’re the last of their kinds! Some are older than that prick, the Heavenly Emperor himself! And you think the gem of my collection, presented to the lord for his birthday, should be one fucking mangy cat?”
“...”
“Ugh, I don’t have time for this! They’re opening up the manor to guests at hai shi. Clean that thing up as best as possible — it’s better than showing up empty-handed but fuck, at least make it look like it hasn’t died a dozen times!”
“Yes, boss!”
“Maybe I can swing it as some kind of luck charm…? No, no, that won’t work…” The screeching voice trailed off as clawed footsteps faded.
Xie Lian gave another pitiful mewl as he was snatched from the box by the scruff of his neck and dunked directly into a pot of chilly water. He shivered, vision still blurry, still too used to the darkness that was all he’d known for the entirety of the trip to… wherever the group that had snatched him had taken him.
The only thing he knew for sure was his name and the fact that he’d been cursed, though he couldn’t quite remember how or what he’d looked like before. It had been too long, he thought — but he couldn’t be sure how long, exactly. He knew he’d been wandering in the woods for quite some time before this group, with their strange features and slightly glowing auras, had found him. They followed him around for a few days, heckling at every instance of bad luck he seemed prone to getting himself into — before stuffing him into the box.
He did not like the box.
The members of the group didn’t appear to realize that he needed food and water, or that the box lacked any air holes for him to breathe. They ignored his cries, his useless attempts to claw and bite his way out. His recent experiences in the wild hadn’t been fun, but he did not enjoy his time in that dark, suffocating place. At least outside of the box there had been a breeze and moonlight, other beings that swam or flew or munched on the grass. He had been very alone in the box.
Hands scrubbed at him now, feathered and leathery and furred. The voices that spoke over him growled and chirped and honked.
A menagerie…
Slowly, a few key parts of the conversation pushed through his exhaustion and the perpetual fog that shrouded his mind. He understood that he was being prepared for something. To be a gift for someone who sounded very important. That was why they had taken him.
“Hmmm, should we remove this collar?” There was a tug at his neck, claws slipping through his wet fur.
“I don’t see a clasp for it. Looks like it’s made of solid gold…. Don’t know how something like this ended up on something so unlucky, but I say leave it. Hua Chengzhu’s gift should look fancy, anyhow!”
He hoped wherever he was going had food and something to drink. When he tried to lap at the water around him, the hands wrenched his head back.
“Hey! Don’t fucking drink that!”
“Maybe the reason it died so many times is because it has zero self preservation skills…”
“Stop yapping and pass me that soap. The boss will kill us if we don’t get this thing looking spiffy in time for the celebrations to begin. Chop chop!”
The scrubbing intensified. Xie Lian mewled in distress, curling into himself after trying to seek some warmth in those that touched him, but finding all of the hands so very cold instead.
♡⚂♡⚂♡
They put him back in a box.
Not the same box. This one was slightly bigger and had something soft in the bottom that felt silky under his paws. It also had tiny slits in the sides that allowed the smallest bit of light and noise to pass through. Xie Lian, still a little damp and cold from his bath but glad to be clean and relatively safe for now, curled up and listened to the sounds of voices and wild laughter come and go. The box was jostled rhythmically in time with the steps of those who carried him. It was almost enough to put him to sleep.
Then it stopped, and Xie Lian’s head lifted. The scent of something delicious wafted through the nearest crack, causing hunger to squeeze at his tiny stomach, shrunken further from starvation. He gave a weak cry, moving to sit up.
“Honored Hua Chengzhu, this humble one is Jiang Hong, proprietor of the Divine Beasts Menagerie,” said a familiar high-pitched voice, very close to the box. “It was this lowly ghost’s deepest wish to acquire the most unique of gifts for this special occasion, and after searching far and wide, such a gift has indeed been procured!”
Light flooded over him as the lid was removed and the box’s walls collapsed, revealing him to the room. Murmurs broke out. Xie Lian’s eyes had adjusted during the bath so they were wide when he looked around now, actually able to make things out.
An opulent hall, huge and decorated with dazzling points of silver and gold, bathed in red. Plush carpets and dramatic curtains and, directly in front of him atop a raised dais, sat on top of a large black divan and half-hidden behind more gauzy curtains: a red-clad figure reclined in a posture of total boredom. Head propped up on one hand, boot crossed over his thigh, sharp black eyes regarded the group that carried Xie Lian with barely concealed contempt.
Xie Lian involuntarily took a step back and in doing so, almost slipped off of the cushion he was perched on. He managed to dig his claws in just in time. As he quickly readjusted his position, he caught another glimpse of the room, and something made him stop in his tracks.
In the expansive free space on the divan, next to the figure in red, there was a long line of enormous platters and dishes. Towers of fruits, a dozen different cuts of meat, bubbling soups and noodles and blackened, steaming carcasses of fish—! Xie Lian’s stomach gave another squeeze, drool beginning to collect in the fur around his mouth.
“This is the Cat with a Thousand Lives!” the screeching proprietor proclaimed. When nothing but silence greeted their proclamation, they cleared their throat, wavering at the lack of reaction from their audience. “It may look ordinary and unnoteworthy but! I assure you, my lord, that this feline is one of a kind!”
“Oh?” Xie Lian’s attention was zeroed-in on the food, but even he heard the disinterest and disdain in that one word.
“Yes, yes, of course! Here, allow this one to demonstrate—”
Xie Lian let out a surprised mrrph! as he was suddenly seized by the back of his neck. Held aloft with his paws dangling in the air, he squirmed to get free, fighting against the clawed grip to no avail.
“This cat once belonged to a royal family of a kingdom long-forgotten. So prosperous was this kingdom that the entire dynasty was granted immortality, even their pets! This cat belonged to their Crown Prince!”
“Bullshit!” someone yelled, coming from behind the menagerie proprietor — another guest waiting to deliver their own gift.
“Yeah, if the whole bloodline was immortal, how did the kingdom become ‘long-forgotten,’ huh?”
Xie Lian’s world wobbled as the proprietor whirled around. “Shut up!” Their tone returned to one of deference and politeness as they turned back to address the lord on the divan. “Hua Chengzhu, this one’s subordinates witnessed the creature’s ability with their own eyes. Even if you doubt its origins, this cat truly cannot die!”
“And what use is this to me?” the lord drawled in a low timbre. The hand that was not propping up his chin tapped razor-sharp black-tipped claws with idle, faintly musical clicks along something silver that hung at his belt. The hilt of a weapon.
Xie Lian felt the proprietor’s grip on him shaking violently. “Uh, uh—” they stuttered. “A f-forever companion?”
A chorus of snorts and snickers erupted behind them. The lord merely lifted an eyebrow.
“H-Hua Chengzhu is the most powerful being of the three realms! He will surely outlast the end of time itself! But this one can only imagine how lonely that sort of existence can be… so my gift today is a companion that can stay by his lordship’s side forever!”
Silence filled the hall. Even Xie Lian stopped his squirming to blink in surprise.
“And!” The proprietor’s voice grew stronger with conviction. “If my lord ever gets bored, he can kill this cat as many times as he pleases with no consequences! Endless entertainment!”
Reluctant grumbles of approval buzzed around the hall, the proprietor’s grip on Xie Lian relaxing as it appeared their proposition was at last starting to sound appealing. Except Xie Lian could see that the lord’s hand hadn't moved away from his weapon, his fingers now gripping the silver hilt.
The proprietor did not seem to notice. “As I said!” they huffed indignantly and Xie Lian caught the gesture they made with their free hand in the corner of his vision, “This one will demonstrate!”
There was a squeak of wheels and then a huge pot was rolled out in front of the divan on a cart, water lapping at the sides as it came to a juddering stop. The vessel was deep, filled to the brim, large enough so that everyone would have a good view of what came next.
With great relish, and to the intrigued murmurs of the crowd, the proprietor lifted Xie Lian higher in the air — before bringing him swiftly down towards the rippling surface.
There was a flash of silver, too quick to see properly.
Xie Lian didn’t wait to see what had stopped his head from being dunked. Twisting in the now-lax grip that held him, he sank needle-like fangs into the nearest exposed flesh. The proprietor released him with a squawk, dropping him directly into the pot but Xie Lian, scrabbling with his paws, managed to catch himself on the wide lip. He kicked his back feet, propelling himself and sending a splash of water into what sounded like the proprietor’s face judging by the spluttering.
Leaping down, he darted across the deep red carpet and launched his body at the divan, digging his claws into fabric. He quickly shimmied himself up and over, rolling onto lush black cushions, damp and panting. He lay on his back for a moment, dazed. Then he looked down his nose to find the nearest platter of fruits and cheeses inches from his face.
Mrrph?
He quickly righted himself. Not bothering to worry about what was happening in the suddenly very quiet room around him, he sniffed at the pieces nearest to him. The scent was heavenly, his body shuddering with the bone-deep hunger it elicited. He dove for the first thing he saw without wasting another breath, eating for the first time that he could remember.
The food was so good. He felt like he could cry.
♡⚂♡⚂♡
Hua Cheng hated these kinds of tedious gatherings.
If he could get away with it — and he could, technically, get away with anything with his sort of power — he would refuse to hold any sort of celebration that meant having to interact with the denizens of his city. Period. Only his centuries of being the lord of Ghost City made him stay his hand. It was all nice and good to rule with an iron fist and a hot-tempered reputation such as his, but he couldn’t wield the stick all the time. Sometimes, it was necessary to toss in the most miniscule carrot to keep the peace, and if his people wanted to bring him gifts because of it, well. That was their foolishness, not his.
And he had been given many foolish gifts over the centuries — and many more foolish ones today. A rare few were ever actually useful, and then there were the ones that ended with him unsheathing E-Ming and dicing the gifters into pieces, whether due to the present’s impertinence or horrifying nature.
Admittedly, he’d never been gifted a cat before.
It was a kitten, really. Small enough to fit in the cup of just one hand by the looks of it.
And right now, that kitten was sitting on his divan — shedding white hair all over — eating his food with a fervor like it had been starved for days.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the menagerie's owner trembling where she stood, E-Ming still poised at her throat. He’d unleashed it the instant he’d put together what exactly was the intended purpose of the giant pot Jiang Hong’s employees brought out. Hua Cheng might have a reputation for being a monster, one of the most ruthless in existence — but he wasn’t the type to watch kittens (supposedly immortal or not) drown for fun, for fuck’s sake.
“A m-million apologies, Chengzhu!” Jiang Hong screeched, wide eyes flicking from E-Ming to Hua Cheng and back again.
The kitten mewled as it ate, scarfing down anything in its reach between cries like it was in pain but couldn’t help itself. Even though its belly was round, the rest of its body was noticeably sharp with emaciation, the knobs of its spine visible through white fur as it hunched over the platter, paws threatening to tip the entire thing over in its haste.
Its cries were pitiful, loud even over the stammering excuses from Jiang Hong, echoing throughout the otherwise silent hall.
“It was not this one’s intention to displease you, Chengzhu! P-please, allow me to remove that pest—!”
Hua Cheng eyed the large container of water and in an instant, the water began to boil furiously. He then regarded Jiang Hong with his upper lip twitching into a snarl. “Remove yourself before I shove your head in that and see if you can come out of it alive on the other end.”
With a look flicked toward the line of guards standing at attention on either side of the room, he ordered, “Get them out of my sight. And take that fucking pot with you.”
Jiang Hong squawked as the guards grabbed her. “M-my lord, please!” But she quickly shut up as the cursed scimitar at her throat inched closer, nicking her under the chin.
With a whimper and a shuffle of hooves and talons, the menagerie and its owner were escorted from the hall. E-Ming came soaring back to him, slapping into his palm with a vicious smack.
As soon as the pot was rolled out of sight, the next Ghost City citizen stepped forward to present their gift, pale and stammering. Whatever useless thing they were saying went unheard regardless as the little attention Hua Cheng had been paying the proceedings was lost completely now that the spectacle was over.
The tiny creature next to him continued to cry and eat, nails scraping against silver as it knocked platters askew, sending morsels dropping to the floor.
“Hey,” Hua Cheng scolded, reaching over before the kitten shuffled itself right off the edge of the divan in its mindless search for the next bite. He picked it up by the scruff, bringing it in for a closer look. Huge golden eyes peered back at him, its fur white all over except for a black sock on its back foot and another black spot peeking out from beneath a thick golden collar around its neck.
“Watch yourself, pipsqueak,” Hua Cheng told it.
“Meow,” the kitten lamented, low and melancholy, dangling paws swiping at him half-heartedly.
He scoffed, setting it down with a plop next to him. The tiny thing, traumatized no doubt, immediately darted through a gap in his robes, burying itself in the dark shelter of his body. At least it wasn’t crying anymore, though he could feel the faintest of tremors coming from the spot against his thigh.
“Chengzhu.” Yin Yu melted out of the nearby shadows, bowing. “Would you like this one to remove the creature?”
Hua Cheng waved him off. “It’s fine.” He jerked his chin at the ghost currently showcasing the ugliest necklace Hua Cheng had ever seen, cradling it in its tentacles like it was some sort of prize heirloom. “How much more of this shit is there to get through?”
Yin Yu’s pause was near imperceptible, his expression hidden as always behind his mask, but with all the grace of a very skilled professional, he merely said, “We opened the gates less than a shichen ago, Chengzhu. The line of those waiting to get in currently wraps around the outer gates, all the way down to the lake.”
Fighting a sigh, Hua Cheng leaned back. Yin Yu slunk away. The next guest was stepping forward with a glass box full of some kind of plant that emitted a noxious-looking green gas, but he paid it little mind. His eyes trailed downward, gaze fixing on the white paw that poked out from the hem of his robes, pink toes like tiny beans surrounded by downy fluff. Occasionally, it twitched. He smothered the strange urge to poke it.
After, when he finally called it quits even though they’d barely made it through half of the awaiting citizens, he scooped up the kitten, now fast asleep — and yes, small enough to fit in his palm. It did not wake.
“Here.” He passed the furball over to a somewhat nonplussed Yin Yu. “Put it in a spare room. Make sure it has plenty of food and water — all the other things it needs in order to not be a nuisance. I’ll figure out what to do with it later.”
“Chengzhu.” Yin Yu bowed and left to do as bid, white ball of fluff cradled to his chest.
Standing, Hua Cheng stretched his arms over his head, robes falling into place around him. He paused as he noticed something marring the maple-red fabric. Pulling it to him, he scoffed as what it was became clear — a patch of white clinging to his thigh, right at the spot the kitten had snuggled up against.
♡⚂♡⚂♡
When Xie Lian next woke he had no idea where he was, but it was not another box so he wasn’t too worried.
The surface beneath his paws was soft and silky, sliding against his fur as he stretched. A faint reddish glow peeked out from behind long, draping curtains, providing just enough light to illuminate the large and lavishly decorated bedroom around him. He was alone, the ginormous bed nearly swallowing him up as he sat up with an inquisitive mrrph?
He was soon distracted by a flash of gold to his right and found a tray had been placed a short distance from him. On it was a plate of chicken, shredded into perfect little bites and still steaming with freshness. Surrounding that was a variety of fruits and vegetables in their own smaller dishes, next to which was a bowl of milk and another larger one of water. Xie Lian pounced on it all immediately. Methodically, he cleared each dish, licking their surfaces clean even long after his stomach started protesting with uncomfortable fullness.
After, he lay down, milk clinging to his whiskers, and fell promptly back to sleep.
He woke again to the sound of the door opening. Not waiting to see who had come for him, he quickly righted himself and sprinted further up the bed to dive between two pillows, sheltering his body in the cave they provided. Panting, he peeked his head out cautiously to observe the intruder.
Whoever it was wore all black and had a white mask over their face that sent a shudder down Xie Lian’s spine. They paused at the threshold, and though their head did not move, Xie Lian got the sense that they were glancing about the room. Xie Lian sank further back into the pillows to better disguise himself.
The figure approached the bed, a hand coming out to touch the edge of the tray that once held the lovely selection of food and drink but now looked like a miniature battle field, debris and liquid spread everywhere. A hum came from behind the mask but Xie Lian couldn’t tell the tone. When he poked his head out a little farther to try and investigate, all he saw was that carved woefully smiling face — sparking a long-forgotten memory, weighty enough that it sank beneath the fog of the curse before he could get a look at it.
Though the mask didn’t turn in his direction, he swore there was a flash of eyes in his direction. Xie Lian dove back into his silky cave, holding still and hoping he hadn’t been noticed.
A moment of contemplative silence followed, then the masked figure cleared their throat and gave a loud, put-upon sigh, the motion coming across as exaggerated, jerking the figure’s shoulders up and down. Silently, the tray was gathered, the sheets that had been caught in the crossfire of Xie Lian’s desperation were swept of all crumbs. The figure turned from the bed.
Xie Lian chanced another look, a small unsure sound leaving him as his visitor opened the door to leave. Though he didn’t trust this strange person, he didn’t much like the idea of them leaving him behind either.
There was nothing he could do though, as the masked figure didn’t appear to hear him and so left without a backwards glance.
Still in his pillow fortress, Xie Lian propped his head on his paws and wondered when — or if — the stranger would eventually return. Hopefully he would. At the very least, to bring more food and water.
And if not him, maybe the lord in red would come to visit instead.
Xie Lian fell asleep once more, the faintest whiff of the smokey, floral scent that had enveloped him as he’d pressed himself close to the lord following him into his dreams.
♡⚂♡⚂♡
It continued like this for a while. Days, Xie Lian thought, maybe even weeks — it was hard to tell time in this form. Either way, predictable patterns became a solid routine.
Whenever the masked figure came in to change out the demolished tray for a fresh one or to clean the various little messes Xie Lian had made around the room as he played and explored, Xie Lian would run and hide. He then safely observed the proceedings from behind thick curtains or from under the armoire. There was always a moment that the stranger would look around the room, neck craning in those same odd, exaggerated movements from the first visit before apparently giving up.
As this went on, and Xie Lian grew steadier in the belief that the masked figure wouldn’t hurt him (probably), he began to peek his head out for longer and longer, as if daring the visitor to acknowledge him.
It was lonely, being locked in the room all day. Though, as time went on, Xie Lian discovered a variety of things to play with and keep himself entertained. The items — strings and feathers and small stuffed dolls that shredded neatly beneath his teeth and claws — always appeared after the masked figure left, though Xie Lian never caught them in the act of leaving them. The toys showed up more and more often as time passed until Xie Lian’s stash that he hid covetously beneath the bed felt more like a hoard.
Still, he spent all day every day, aside from these visits, completely alone.
It had been like this even before he had been captured. Out in the wild, he was free and relatively safe aside from the occasional bad turn of luck — which, surprisingly, hadn't followed him here to this new living situation. But he was alone. Most nights, even surrounded by all kinds of life to be found in the forest, he spent the hours crying into the darkness, calling out for… something. Something that not even the curse could bury the absence of beneath its fuzzy, muddying abilities.
He spent most of his nights in this new room crying as well. Aside from the approaching steps that always heralded another visit from the masked figure sometime during what passed for “day” in this strange place, Xie Lian never heard any other noise coming from outside the door. No one ever came to check on him. Eventually, Xie Lian would exhaust himself and fall asleep.
So, despite having everything he could ever want, far more than he could ever remember having before, when the opportunity to escape the room presented itself, Xie Lian took it without a second thought.
♡⚂♡⚂♡
Sighing, Hua Cheng pocketed his dice, the raucous yelling and maniacal laughter of the Gambler’s Den cutting off abruptly as the door to Paradise Manor’s entryway slammed shut behind him.
“Idiots…” Grumbling under his breath, he turned on his heel, intent on raiding his cellars for his strongest wines. If he didn’t have enough in stock to take the edge off of what had been a very annoying day, it would force him to make a trip to the armory and sort out his feelings there instead. The thing about being a powerful Ghost King, though, was that he always had enough liquor to drown himself in.
His plans were brought to a halt when he turned a corner and found his subordinate on his hands and knees, carefully lifting one of the curtains that framed a large window.
“Do I even want to know?” he asked, propping himself against the wall with his arms folded over his chest.
Yin Yu flinched but, always one to save face, slowly got to his feet and bowed. “Chengzhu,” he said in his perpetually neutral tone.
Hua Cheng raised an eyebrow. “Lose something?”
He didn’t miss the way Yin Yu’s hands twitched at his sides. “This one was careless,” he admitted, inclining his head. “The kitten has escaped its room and I have been unable to locate it.”
It took Hua Cheng a moment to figure out what the fuck he was talking about, having nearly forgotten about the acquisition from weeks ago. He had meant to figure out what to do with the animal — releasing it back to the mortal realm seemed like the most logical choice, despite the claims of immortality, which were almost certainly untrue. If they were somehow true, however, it had also occurred to him to find some other home for it in the ghost realm. But the vile demons and monsters that called his city home couldn’t be trusted not to eat the damn thing if given the slightest chance, especially if Yin Yu’s initial report that the kitten seemed to be as harmless as it looked was true, making it an easy target.
Which was why its escape was not something Hua Cheng could simply brush off, not with a clear conscience anyway. All it took was imagining his god’s smile as he cuddled the tiny creature to his cheek, and he succumbed quickly to the same compelling force that led to him ripping out his own eye for a worthless pack of humans all those years ago. He let out a long breath.
“Where have you already checked?”
The wine would have to wait.
♡⚂♡⚂♡
Hua Cheng stood in one of the many gardens that filled in the gaps of the winding, maze-like structure that was Paradise Manor. It was not one of the more grand courtyards — but the entire manor itself was built with the intended purpose in mind of it being similar to a crystalline vase. A vase meant to one day (if all of Hua Cheng’s hard work paid off, his deepest hopes and desires finding it in themselves to miraculously come true) house the most beautiful and gracious flower of them all. It wouldn’t serve if any part of it was in any way ugly, lest it take away from the splendor of His Highness.
That was to say, despite it not being the best garden he had cultivated over the centuries, the garden was nonetheless lush with green grass and neatly planted patches of flora that waved in the breeze, carrying the gentle scent of honeysuckle and lavender. That same wind flowed elegantly between the ever-blooming trees that lined the gravel path, rustling their leaves and sending pale pink blossoms floating to the ground like snow.
It was also the reason Hua Cheng almost missed the tiny, continuous cries coming from somewhere among those trees.
Stones crunching beneath his boots, he made his way over to investigate. Though it shouldn’t have surprised him given where the sounds were coming from, he still paused at the sight of the white speck perched so high up, nearly lost among the foliage and balancing precariously on a fragile-looking limb.
“How the fuck did you even get up there?” he wondered under his breath as he came to stand directly underneath, craning his head up.
The kitten trembled, its mewls escalating in pitch at the sight of him, whether in fear of his presence or worry that Hua Cheng would decide to leave him up there if he didn’t make enough of a racket. Hua Cheng did have half a mind to let the kitten discover for itself the consequences of climbing too high, as payback for making him go through the work of finding it, but found himself unable to follow through in the end.
The smallest burst of power nudged the kitten from the branch and sent it plummeting to the ground.
Reaching out a hand, he caught the tiny creature in his palm. For a moment, it seemed too stunned to do anything more than blink at him with those huge golden eyes. Then it opened its mouth and began to cry.
Sighing, Hua Cheng pulled the kitten to his chest, freeing his other hand to conjure a silver butterfly that tore off from his vambrace and fluttered its wings sedately as it waited for his orders. “Tell Yin Yu I’ve located our wayward house guest and will be returning it to its room promptly.”
The butterfly left. Hua Cheng watched it go until he felt something sharp dig into his collarbone. Looking down, he found the kitten holding on to him tenaciously, claws extended and curled with enough force to penetrate the thick layers of his robes. It was still crying.
Bringing his palm up to cradle its kicking back feet, Hua Cheng flattened his other over its back, stroking firmly down from its head to its tail. Mostly in an attempt to smother the sound a bit. “You’re fine,” he told it, continuing the motion a few more times. “Stop whining.”
It did not. Hua Cheng’s lips twitched as the kitten scrabbled at him, trying to climb up to his shoulders in its mindless distress.
Strangely, the whole situation uncovered a memory from long ago when he himself had been caught after falling from a great height. He had also clung to the one that had saved him, wailing like the world was ending.
There weren’t many fond memories from that time in his life. Whenever he had the inclination to look back — more often than he should, the moments thumbed smooth and muddied by his unworthy hands over the centuries — the endeavor usually left only rage. Only the ache and the sorrow he felt for his wronged, desperate god. The lingering shame and regret. He certainly held no gentle feelings for his past self, who had failed His Highness on all accounts.
That same apathy extended to the creature shaking beneath his palms.
As such, the only reason he decided to take a detour on the way back to the kitten’s room was because he wanted the crying to stop, even for a moment. And, if the kitten had been outside its room for most of the day as he suspected, it had to be starving. His mind flashed back to that first night, the jut of bones sticking out of fur as the kitten ate like it had never been given real food before. His fingers could feel now that that had already begun to be rectified by the creature’s short stay in the manor, by the meals being provided each day — but who knew if Yin Yu would think to bring the normal fare today after the schedule had been disrupted?
(Admittedly, it was highly unlikely that his meticulous subordinate would forget a detail such as this. But Hua Cheng had already made a decision and it was too late now. That’s what he told himself, anyway.)
The sparse kitchen staff they kept year-round scattered when he kicked the door open with his boot, hands too busy supporting the kitten to reach for the handles. Judging by the ever-increasing stinging of his chest, however, he thought that the burr he had acquired would continue to hang on to him regardless of his help or not.
That grip did not relent as he moved about the large space, pulling dishes and various foods from the cupboards and a pantry charmed to keep produce cool and fresh. Even once he had set the dishes down on the counter and went to do the same with the kitten, he had to unhook its claws one by one from his robes, the silver threads of embroidery that decorated his lapels shredding with little care to their fine construction.
“Look,” he said, holding the kitten by the middle and lowering him down in front of a plate piled with fruits and vegetables. He’d even added a dish of shredded chicken that he’d noticed had been prepared and kept under a stasis talisman, probably meant to serve at the kitten’s normal meal time, whenever that had been.
The kitten eyed the dishes with a hesitancy it hadn’t shown at the celebrations that first night. Yet, in the end, its stomach clearly won out. Hua Cheng’s plan worked — the kitchens were completely silent, save for minute crunching and lapping as the kitten worked its way methodically through enough food for a cat ten times its size. The sight had Hua Cheng wondering whether the kitten was actually fully grown, except its strange immortal abilities, if they existed, kept it looking no bigger than three weeks old at most. Or maybe it was not a cat at all.
The question went unanswered for the time being, but perhaps he should look into the creature’s origins. After all, if he intended to find another place for it to reside, knowing whether it was a spirit or even some kind of demon would be useful information. He had yet to sense anything malicious about, on, or around it but it wouldn’t hurt to formally check.
For now, he watched the kitten eat its food and drink the water he’d poured, arms folded over his chest. When it was done, he scooped it up and carried it back out into the hall.
Sated and worn out from the exciting events of the day, the kitten curled up against his chest and fell asleep. It did not wake the entire trip back to its room.
It was only when Hua Cheng set it down on its bed that golden eyes opened.
“Do not leave this room again,” he told it, making sure a bit of his Ghost King aura leaked into his voice so the message was eminently clear. “If you do, we’ll be serving kitten-stuffed dumplings for dinner.”
The kitten blinked slowly at him.
He straightened up and stepped back, wondering what the hell he was doing.
Shaking himself, he strode to the door, noting on the way the changes to the room — which had looked the same as any of the other hundred empty guest bedrooms in the manor the last he checked. Now, bits of the furniture were noticeably more banged up where tiny claws and teeth had made their mark. Cushions were scattered on the floor, little piles of feathers and strings and small toys as well littered throughout. Hua Cheng smirked at sight, wondering when Yin Yu planned to tell him about this new aspect of the household budget — and if his subordinate knew that it would now be coming directly out of his monthly pay.
Closing the door behind him, he made it all of three steps down the hall before the crying began.
Striding over, he swung back into the room, nearly squashing the tiny creature that sat inches from the threshold. The cry it had been halfway through cut off in apparent surprise at his sudden reappearance, but it didn’t take long before it started up again.
Hua Cheng growled, stooping down to pluck the nuisance up and bring it to eye-level. “Cut that shit out. You think you can get whatever you want by making a bunch of noise?” He gave it a little shake. “Good fucking luck. You are not leaving this room. If you think I wasn’t being serious about the dumplings, I assure you, I will dice you into even more bite-size pieces myself.”
From behind, a throat cleared. “Chengzhu?”
Hua Cheng froze, then forced himself to relax and turn to Yin Yu. “What,” he said flatly.
Yin Yu bowed, effectively hiding his eyes, the only form of expression Hua Cheng could ever make out behind that mask. “This one came to check on our guest and make sure he did not need anything… Though the kitchen staff informed me that he has already been fed and watered.”
Hua Cheng ignored that leading comment. “He?” he asked instead.
“Yes, Chengzhu. That is the conclusion I came to during my observations over the past weeks.”
Hua Cheng looked back to the kitten, who had stopped its — his — wailing to blink at both of them with watery eyes. “Huh.”
“As for the incident earlier, this one apologizes for failing to properly watch over our guest.” Yin Yu’s bow deepened. He sounded slightly embarrassed. “I’m unsure of how he managed to escape, but given that I’m the only one who tends to him, it must have been an oversight on my part. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s fine,” Hua Cheng said. still eyeing the kitten. “I have it handled.”
“Sir?”
With a flick of his free hand, a butterfly unfolded from his vambrace, taking up its position on the armoire nearby like the silent sentry Hua Cheng had created it to be.
Aware of his subordinate’s presence still at his back, and of his own decreasing sanity, Hua Cheng settled for giving the kitten one last meaningful look rather than voicing another threat. His point was made clear regardless, he was sure, with the flash of his teeth — which were absolutely capable of easily shredding small animals who insisted on crying or escaping into even tinier pieces.
The kitten, once set upon the bed, appropriately turned and sprinted under the pillows for cover.
That done, Hua Cheng left the room. He didn’t think he imagined, however, the near-silent huff of amusement that followed him just before he closed the door, though for the sake of his assistant's continuance of life, he pretended he did.
One thing was for sure: he was definitely taking all of this out of Yin Yu’s paycheck.
♡⚂♡⚂♡
Xie Lian was no longer alone.
Despite this, he didn’t know how to feel about his new roommate. It made no moves to harm him, but it also made very little moves at all which was… unsettling.
On the other hand, it was very pretty. As soon as the masked figure and the lord in red had left the room, Xie Lian crept out of his hiding space, eyes drawn to the way this new — potential friend? — glowed like sunlight off water. Its wings were thin, translucent and as fragile-looking as glass, decorated with beautiful patterns that swirled into each other.
The butterfly did not approach him. Instead, it seemed content to perch on the armoire the lord had directed it to, antennae idly sweeping the wood beneath it. For a while, Xie Lian merely watched, head cocked, mesmerized.
When he jumped down to the floor, seeking distraction in one of his stashes of toys, the butterfly stayed put. Even when Xie Lian rolled over, a red string tangled about his feet, fibers shredding under his claws and teeth in a display of his true prowess, his new roommate did not acknowledge him. Eventually, after a few more idle bats of his paw at a stuffed mouse he had thoroughly trounced, Xie Lian gave up. He climbed back up onto the bed, curling up in the dim glow of what passed for daytime in this strange place, and fell asleep.
He woke in the dark. A crushing feeling followed him out of the dream — the walls were closing in on him, closing him inside, shutting the rest of the world out forever and he couldn’t breathe, there were no holes to breathe or even cry out—
Something bright and dazzling flitted over, illuminating the edges of the room in silver. The butterfly’s wings made the silky sheets beneath it glow as it landed gently on top of them, as if they too were lit within. The darkness vanished, and the sound that had been trapped in Xie Lian’s throat came out as a rasping mewl, pitiful even to his own ears. He crawled toward that light, as close to the butterfly as it would allow him, almost close enough to touch.
The butterfly was not cold, nor was it insubstantial — but it was also not not these things. Regardless, Xie Lian thought he could feel a warmth emanating from it anyway. Its serene presence felt powerful, comforting in a world that had not shown Xie Lian much kindness, a dark world where not many things deigned to shed a light.
The slow up and down of its wings made his eyes feel heavy almost immediately as he tracked the movement. It did not make a sound, but Xie Lian thought he could make out a faint hum coming from it, something that thrummed with life.
The fear began to slip back into the recesses of his mind. Whatever had caused it — was it a dream? — sank once more under the comforting fog of the curse, left to be forgotten by morning.
♡⚂♡⚂♡
Hua Cheng lowered his hand from his temple, allowing the image of the tiny kitten cuddling so close to one of his notorious wraith butterflies fade from his mind’s eye.
More of the conjured creatures fluttered about his office, contrasting with the flickering flames of the oil lamps burning low in their holders that served as the only light source this late in the night, illuminating the numerous scrolls and stacks of parchment scattered across his desk. The hour itself didn’t matter to him. Most ghosts did not need to sleep, certainly not ones as powerful as him.
Though, he had noticed over the centuries that going without for long periods left him feeling more on edge, and had the staff scrambling to stay out of his way more so than usual. He couldn’t remember now the last time he had laid his head down to rest for even a moment, much less get a full night’s worth.
Perhaps that was why his mood roiled under his skin like a black wave, his jaw clenched tight enough to snap as he pulled the next scroll toward himself. Like the others, it was a brief compilation that Yin Yu had put together of testimonies and sightings from any time in the past century, each one containing so much as even the slightest hint of someone resembling the Crown Prince of Xianle. And by slightest, it could be something as roundabout as a rumor of a rumor of an old legend passed down through three generations. Most of them were useless, and even the ones that had some potential never paid off.
But there was always the chance that one of them would.
That was the thing about faith — it came hand in hand with hope. Neither one could survive without the other.
That didn’t mean there were never periods of doubt. Long, stretching lengths of time where Hua Cheng questioned everything about his search, including just what he thought he was doing by looking at all. Was he assuming His Highness needed his help? Trying to assuage his own fears that something terrible would happen, had already happened, without his assistance? How arrogant. He knew from the intelligence he’d gathered from the heavens that His Highness had been banished shortly after the incident at Lang’er Bay, burdened with two shackles that kept him powerless and all but mortal, unable to die or age yet so terribly vulnerable.
So much unnecessary cruelty — it was the perfect example of the kind of bullshit the heavens got away with all the time. Just the idea of that prick Jun Wu and his lot sitting in their golden palaces while His Highness was lost to the mortal realm made Hua Cheng want to storm the capital and cull their ranks for a second time.
Not a single one of them would last a year in the same circumstances. Only someone as rare and tenacious and brave as His Highness could survive for over half a millennium.
Sometimes, though, as the years passed and passed with nothing more than whispers and faint impressions that slipped through his fingers, he wondered. What if the worst thing had already happened? The unthinkable. What if his faith wasn’t strong enough to keep His Highness tethered to this world and he was only ever chasing his own memories?
But he would know if that happened. He would feel it, his own soul dispersing on the spot with its purpose gone forever, waiting to be reunited in the next life.
Wouldn’t he?
Clenching his hand around the scroll in front of him without even bothering to read its contents, Hua Cheng stood. The room dimmed as, one by one, his butterflies dissolved into silver sparks until only a single one remained. It glided over to him eagerly, sensing his restlessness.
“Tell Yin Yu I’ll be gone for the next few days. I expect him to keep this place running in my absence and to refrain from contacting me if he values his life. If shit goes wrong and everything is on fire, well.” His lips pulled back in a snarl. “Maybe this whole place deserves to burn.”
The butterfly darted off, as if it didn’t want to stick around to hear what else he might have to say. Hua Cheng scoffed and pulled a pair of dice from his pockets, tossing them into the air.
When they landed in his palm, they were snake eyes.
“Fucking perfect,” he muttered as he opened his office door and stepped out into the void that awaited him.
♡⚂♡⚂♡
Several days and several completely fruitless leads later, Hua Cheng returned to Paradise Manor itching to spill blood.
It was only ever this mood or another, even darker version that followed him back from his trips where he had nothing to show for all his searching. One that had him locking himself inside Qian Deng temple for weeks at a time, ignoring every inquiry from Yin Yu and other staff as he lay on the stone floor, staring at the empty altar that felt like a stark answer to the question he’d been asking for nearly seven hundred years.
Where are you?
Rotting in that windowless space and feeling sorry for himself were the least of the punishments he wanted to do to himself for yet another failure when he got like that.
Yet where that mood had him as motionless as the corpse he was, feeling like the world could swallow his worthless soul whole and he wouldn’t lift a finger to stop it — his other mood was very much on the opposite end of the spectrum. He was the one who would do the devouring and rather than motionless, his cold dead skin thrummed with the need to destroy because if he couldn’t be useful to His Highness, then he could at least do the second most important task he had pulled himself back together from the tiniest of fragments to do — burn the world and all those he hated with it.
He was, after all, a ghost. Reborn of wrath and resentment.
Funnily enough, these were the only moments where he felt at all alive.
“Yin Yu,” he said into the empty room, not needing to summon a butterfly to carry this message. He put enough power behind the words themselves that it was only a moment before there was a polite knock at the door.
“Chengzhu,” Yin Yu said, bowing into the room only after Hua Cheng had granted permission, each step precise and measured, careful. He was aware of the state his lord was in, then. Good.
Hua Cheng’s thoughts were momentarily derailed as he spotted a white lump clinging to his subordinate’s shoulder. “What is that.”
Yin Yu’s hand reached automatically up before he remembered himself and snapped it back down to his side. His bow deepened until his torso was parallel with the floor, the kitten hanging off of him scrabbling to keep its footing. “This one was careless again, Chengzhu. I was seeing to our guest when I received my lord’s call and did not think…”
“That’s obvious,” Hua Cheng remarked coldly. “I don’t assume there’s been much thinking on either of our parts when it comes to our… esteemed house guest.”
“Sir?” Yin Yu still did not rise from his bow.
The kitten let out a cry, squeaky but stronger than before. Now that it had righted itself, it seemed rather content to sit atop Yin Yu’s back, watching Hua Cheng with those big, unsettling eyes, head cocked to the side.
Hua Cheng’s lips peeled back from his teeth in a smile. “Perhaps we should remedy that,” he said, and snatched the creature up around its middle.
Yin Yu immediately straightened, his hands outstretched, eyes wide behind the mask as he looked from Hua Cheng to the kitten and back again. “H-Hua Chengzhu—”
“Problem?” Hua Cheng asked, stroking a clawed finger down the soft fur behind the kitten’s ears.
Dropping his eyes and hands, Yin Yu inclined his head. “Of course not. My lord is free to do as he wishes with his gifts.”
Amused at the obvious hesitancy in those words, Hua Cheng snorted, letting up on the malevolent aura just a bit. “I won’t skin it alive, eat it, nor intentionally cause your little friend any bodily harm if that’s what you’re so worried about. I just think it’s time we start figuring out what, exactly, this thing that we’ve been feeding and sheltering for months is.” He gave the kitten, surprisingly quiet and docile in his grip, another stroke. “Does that not sound reasonable to you?”
“This lowly one will of course cede to Chengzhu’s wisdom.”
What a brown-noser.
“Dismissed,” Hua Cheng said, turning his back. There was a long moment before the floorboards creaked behind him with shifting weight, then another before footsteps retreated from the room, the door closing behind them with a click.
“You should feel proud of yourself,” Hua Cheng told the kitten as he rounded his desk and took a seat, kicking his feet up onto the wood. “That one is rarely ever affected by emotion, yet he seems particularly attached to you.”
The kitten did not reply. It was limp as he brought it close to his face, fingers wrapped around its middle. He remembered reading once about prey playing dead when it knew it had been captured by the predator. The thought had another cruel smile curving his lips.
It froze when a small white paw batted at his nose.
Hua Cheng stared at the kitten. It stared back before giving what sounded like a particularly aggrieved meow, wriggling in his grasp.
So much for survival instincts.
“I can’t tell if you’re brave or stupid. I could easily eat you, you know.” Setting the kitten down in his lap, he gave it another appraising look as it set about climbing his legs, leaving a trail of white fur all over his black trousers.
A glimmer of gold caught his eye. Half hidden, the collar shone in the lamp light. It was solid under Hua Cheng’s touch as he slid two fingers underneath it. He had assumed it was some kind of decoration the menagerie's proprietor had stuck on the creature to make it more enticing, but something made him pause now. A slight thrum of power.
Humming and with his curiosity officially piqued, Hua Cheng sent a pulse of his own energy into the collar as a test. It shuddered — or maybe that was the kitten, who trembled under his touch. It let out a pitiful cry.
Hua Cheng took his hand away. He hadn’t been lying to Yin Yu about not wanting to cause the kitten any serious injury if he could help it. His mood might’ve been coal-black and blood-thirsty, but he wasn’t the type to take that out on something that didn’t deserve it. If the destructive feeling under his skin did not settle, he would take himself to the Gambler’s Den and find a plethora of monsters and demons and ghosts who did fit his criteria.
However, the reaction from the collar had caught his attention now, sparking a few avenues of thought and theories. His mind was already combing through the extensive reading list he had cultivated for the last few centuries, particularly focusing on the research he had done into cursed shackles.
The Gambler’s Den wouldn’t be going anywhere. There were just a few more things he wanted to check first.
Maybe he’d have this entire mystery solved by morning.
♡⚂♡⚂♡
A knock on his door sometime later, perhaps quite a long time later judging by the red glow of day that seeped in from the curtains behind him, pulled him out of his thoughts like being dragged out from the depths of the ocean.
The hand holding an ink brush stopped at the noise, but his other hand did not. It was only when he glanced from the stacks and stacks of notes on his desk — some old, and some still wet — to his lap that he registered the soft fur under his hands. He realized then that while he cracked open ancient tomes and unfurled crumbling scrolls, he’d also been absentmindedly petting the kitten the entire time. He vaguely remembered feeling pin-prick teeth and claws at first, idly indulging it in order to keep certain paws away from ink-filled dishes and paper old enough to disintegrate under the slightest breeze. But when that had turned into rhythmic petting, he wasn't sure. He was also unsure of the point in which the kitten fell asleep. Or when it had begun to gently purr under his touch.
Hua Cheng considered stopping the motion now for only a moment before he dismissed the idea. His handwriting was terrible enough without little kitten paws added to the mix.
“Come in,” he called, just above his normal speaking voice.
The door opened, unsurprisingly, to reveal Yin Yu. What was less usual was the tray he had balanced on one palm, the source of the smell of fresh food wafting into the office.
“Chengzhu,” he greeted. “I was about to deliver our guest his morning meal when I noticed he was not in his room. This one thought to check here before beginning another search around the manor."
“Astute,” Hua Cheng muttered, rubbing his free hand down his face. His eye throbbed.
Still, he didn’t miss the way Yin Yu glanced surreptitiously around as he stepped further into the room.
“Quiet,” Hua Cheng hissed when he set the tray of food on the desk with a — barely audible — click. It was pointless. Perhaps it was the smell that had the tiny heartbeat under his fingertips picking up the pace, the kitten letting out an eager mrrph? as it sat up in his lap.
“Oh.” Yin Yu took a startled step back as the kitten’s head popped over the edge of the desk.
They both watched as the creature sprang up, heedless of the papers it treaded upon, indeed leaving little black smears across wood and paper alike as it happily trotted over to the tray and started to eat.
After a moment, Yin Yu cleared his throat. “This one also wanted to deliver the report on the proceedings here in Ghost City in your absence.” He held out a scroll for Hua Cheng to take. It was carelessly tossed to join the others littering the space, unread. Yin Yu continued, unbothered. “If there is anything else I can do for you, Chengzhu…”
Hua Cheng stood. He was dead, which meant his heart did not beat and his blood did not circulate to give him pins and needles. Still, he was stiff from sitting in one position for so long, his bones cracking as he stretched his arms over his head. The kitten stopped eating to look up at him as he rounded the desk, giving an inquisitive meow.
“Watch over our guest. I need to grab a few things from the library.” He made it all the way to the door before he stopped, glancing back over his shoulder. “It’s unclear how long this stupid research endeavor will take. You may as well bring the rest of his meals here until I've finished.”
Yin Yu’s back was to him and he of course was wearing his mask, but Hua Cheng swore he heard the ghost of a smile in his words. “Of course, Chengzhu.”
Scowling, Hua Cheng strode into the hallway. “And bring some of those useless toys you bought him. This whole thing will go a lot faster if he’s not trashing my work before I can implement it.”
“Of course, Chengzhu.”
♡⚂♡⚂♡
He quickly came to a conclusion he suspected all along: that the kitten was not a kitten at all.
The collar, which he was correct in thinking to be cursed or at least imbued with energy, affected its form and gave it the shape of one. But he had no clue what it truly was underneath it — some other kind of creature or spirit. Or something else altogether?
Observing it, it seemed just like a normal kitten. It did not feed off of any spiritual power or life force that he could detect, and it conducted itself like he suspected every other small, insatiably curious animal. When it was not playing with its toys, exploring the room, or napping, it constantly got distracted by shiny things, like his butterflies that flitted about the room, and less wisely, E-Ming.
Hua Cheng was distracted himself one late evening and didn’t realize anything was amiss until his hip started vibrating obnoxiously. Looking down, he saw the kitten, who had been asleep in his lap, playfully batting its paw at E-Ming’s hilt. And the stupid scimitar that never even deigned to open its eye for anyone was rattling with obvious joy, red iris brimming with actual tears.
Hua Cheng gave the weapon a good smack, startling the kitten enough that it tumbled off his lap to the floor.
That was another thing. The kitten was extremely clumsy.
Some of it was due to that same, inquisitive nature it possessed and its propensity to bite the furniture, knock things off the furniture, or climb on top of the furniture as a result — but Hua Cheng also noticed a strange pattern outside of that. The kitten would be walking along the edge of a bookshelf just fine, graceful in that way all felines seemed prone to be, when it would suddenly slip. His butterflies would swarm over, catching the creature who seemed bemused but otherwise unharmed as it quickly shook itself off and went about its exploring. More pressingly, objects that had been in Hua Cheng’s office for centuries and never once moved would suddenly fall from their hooks on the wall, coincidentally exactly when tiny paws passed underneath them. A gilded mirror had nearly crushed the kitten beneath it into a red smear on the floor if not again for the quick intervention on his part.
Hua Cheng started keeping an even sharper eye on the kitten after that.
But perhaps the strangest thing of all was the fact that the kitten had nightmares.
Hua Cheng witnessed these dreams every night. The kitten napped multiple times a day with no problem but for some reason, as soon as the room dimmed with the first edges of night, the tiny ball of fur that was usually curled up on the desk or in Hua Cheng’s lap, always within reach now, began to shiver and cry. It would twitch, writhing as its claws extended and raked the air in front of it like it was trying to claw its way out of somewhere but couldn’t, its chest heaving.
The first time it happened, the kitten woke itself up before he could think to react, immediately shooting to its feet and glancing about the room. When it spotted him across the desk, it let out another whine and launched itself at him, burying into his chest as he caught and cradled it, too stunned to do anything else.
He realized this was not a one-time thing when he thought about what he had witnessed that night, weeks ago, through his butterflies eyes. As the tiny creature shuddered against him, he wondered how it had been dealing with these dreams before it came here, before he had thought to give it a butterfly to watch over him.
And of course, he wondered what caused these dreams in the first place.
The next time it happened, the kitten was in his lap so it was easy to reach down and stroke gently from its head to its tail when it started to shake, shushing it when it began to whine. It took a moment but eventually the kitten calmed, curling closer, and fell into what seemed like a more peaceful sleep. Something tight released in Hua Cheng’s chest and he kept his hand moving for a long time after, his free hand conjuring a few more butterflies around the room until they hung from every shelf and rafter, until it was nearly as bright as daylight.
He considered that these nightmares might have something to do with whatever had happened during his brief stay with the menagerie. Taking the whole pot situation into consideration, it wasn’t hard to imagine other horrors occurring in a place full of ghosts joyfully and confidently proclaiming the kitten to be immortal, as if they had tested it themselves many times over.
The more Hua Cheng thought about it, the more his dormant rage stirred in his chest, calling for the immediate execution for those who would hurt something so small and curious and, at times, very goofy.
Except he had other matters to deal with at the moment. Academically, the claims of immortality almost certainly had something to do with the collar and the curse — though Hua Cheng wasn’t sure it was a curse in the first place — but there was no way to truly test it. Not any way that Hua Cheng would ever attempt, that is. It might give him something new to go off of, a new avenue to explore in his research into the collar itself, but he was not willing to do what was required to get that confirmation.
Even considering the fact that the kitten was not a kitten, it was most likely some other kind of living creature. Sentient, even, as Hua Cheng swore it understood him when he told it not to jump on his freshly inked papers or to stop climbing around the priceless antiques hung on the wall — mostly with the safety of the kitten and the bad luck that seemed to follow it when it came to the integrity of his wall hangings in mind, rather than in consideration for the rarity of the items themselves. He often found himself putting emotions behind the different meows and chirps he received throughout the day as well, replying to them as if they were having a conversation.
That could be due to the further erosion of his sanity, but he also didn’t think he was imagining things.
All of that was to say that even just the mental image of putting his hands on that tiny white neck, of squeezing until it snapped — just to see if death could be shaken off as soon as the creature regenerated or whatever it was believed capable of — made his own throat close up.
He carefully lifted the sleeping kitten from his lap and pressed a kiss to the top of its head as if in apology for the thought alone. The fur was soft against his lips, warm and smelling of milk and flowers.
Pulling back, he sighed.
The point of this research was to figure out what the kitten actually was, yes — but it was with the ultimate goal of finding another place for it to reside. He was still planning on rehoming it. He wasn’t the type to get attached to things, especially something that had nothing to do with His Highness. Even the people in his life all served a specific job, and objects like E-Ming even more so, everything fine-tuned to his soul’s purpose. There was no space in his life for something as pointless as a pet — or, as the proprietor had put it so sentimentally, a forever companion.
He had his search for His Highness to get back to.
He would find out the mysterious properties of the collar, break the incantation on it if necessary, and send the kitten-but-not kitten off to a better place.
After all, Paradise Manor was just a residence. A holding space until His Highness came along and either accepted or denied it as somewhere worthy enough to hold him.
It could never be a home.
♡⚂♡⚂♡
Xie Lian didn’t quite understand the lord in red.
Their first meeting hardly counted, given how distracted Xie Lian had been by the food and the whole nearly-drowned-in-a-giant-pot fiasco, but he very clearly remembered their second interaction in the garden. The lord had found him after he’d been in the tree for what felt like hours, his throat aching from crying. And while his demeanor had been annoyed, his words and teeth very sharp, he had fixed Xie Lian a meal and cradled him gently against his chest as he walked him back to his room. Even when the lord had told him he would eat him, Xie Lian found it hard to actually believe him capable of following through with the threat.
Well, not incapable. His fangs were very sharp, after all.
It was more like he understood the lord in red to be someone who hid behind a mask just like the figure who delivered his meals and toys — someone who turned out to give excellent belly scratches after Xie Lian finally grew the courage to leave his hiding spots and roll over for him. Not much made it past the perpetual fog of the curse, but Xie Lian was sure that each time he met the lord in red, his appearance was slightly different than before. The biggest change was in his eyes. Xie Lian had been sure he had two that first night at the celebrations, and again when the lord found him in the garden.
But ever since the lord had plucked him from the masked figure’s shoulders and allowed Xie Lian free roam of the office as he wrote and read and sighed and crumpled up pieces of parchment in obvious frustration, the lord had only one deep black eye. The other was covered by a black eyepatch. Maybe Xie Lian wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except today the eyepatch was gone. In its place was a replica of the left one, giving him a matching set once more.
The small, small part of Xie Lian that was constantly fighting against the tide of the curse and all its memory-altering properties wanted more time to think about this. Wanted more time to consider which version of this lord in red was the real one, why he felt the need to keep changing his mask at all.
The other, larger part of him who was currently enjoying swiping his paws at the string the lord held just out of his reach, wriggling on his back on the lord’s desk — was content to let any more complex thoughts about masks slip out of his head.
A knock on the door to the office had the lord in red’s attention slipping momentarily, allowing Xie Lian to snag the string and bring it to his mouth to gnaw on. When he noticed, the lord looked down at him with a small smile that had been showing up more and more often the longer they spent time together. It made something in Xie Lian’s belly, and deep in the cordoned-off space in his mind, churn with warmth.
“Enter.”
Xie Lian instantly recognized the masked figure and, hopeful it might be time for food (even though he didn’t think it had been very long since his last meal at all), he curved his body toward the door until he had a perfect, if upside down, view of it. He gave an eager mrrph?
The masked figure was not carrying a tray of food, nor was he alone, and the shadowy shape that stepped out from behind him had Xie Lian pausing. The lord in red, however, did not, playfully tugging the string still clamped in his mouth, dragging the tip of it through the fur on his exposed belly.
“Lord Black Water Sinking Ships, Chengzhu,” the masked figure said, bowing respectfully before leaving the room, the door closing behind him.
Xie Lian wasn’t sure what to make of the stranger, who moved further into the room on silent feet, black robes and hair flowing around him. He gave off a similar feeling as the lord in red, an aura that hummed and seemed nearly tangible in its power. But his eyes were cold, unnaturally bright and intense as they flicked toward Xie Lian and up again.
The lord in red seemed unbothered. He merely said, “No one will believe you.”
The blank surface of the stranger’s face broke into a scowl as he swept into a chair in front of the desk. “What, that the rumors of Crimson Rain Sought Flower’s new beloved pet are true?” he said in a dark tone, a hint of razor-sharp teeth flashing behind his blue-tinged lips. “Or that you play with your kitty even in front of guests.”
“You are not a guest,” the lord in red said, matching his tone, teeth included. “You’re just a shithead who owes me more money than he can ever dream of paying back —which is why you’re polluting my domain with your presence this evening.” He leaned back in his chair, propping his arms behind his head. “Shall we get on with it?”
Xie Lian took this opportunity to abandon his string and his place on the desk in favor of hopping down to the floor, scurrying to the nearest one of his toy stashes — behind the curtains. He carefully peeked his head out to observe.
Despite his worry, however, the two powerful beings didn’t spare him another glance as they continued griping at each other. Eventually, Xie Lian grew brave enough to start venturing back out into the room. He had explored every nook and cranny the space had to offer, sometimes getting stuck in the very tight spaces, which was not fun for anyone as he panicked and cried until the lord in red rescued him. The lord also had very good intuition for when he was about to fall and always either caught him himself, or sent his beautiful butterflies rushing over.
The same proved true now, even when the lord was entertaining a guest. He righted the things Xie Lian accidentally knocked over without looking, merely flicking his fingers to release sparkling, fluttering shapes that for some reason made the stranger flinch back in his seat. Xie Lian was distracted for a bit by one of the butterflies as it lingered, chasing it as it weaved serenely through the furniture. He eventually cornered it after shimmying up the lord in red’s leg and into his lap, settling down at the edge of the desk to wait for it to land.
It did, wings still flapping as if it might choose to take flight again at any moment, sending a thrill of anticipation down Xie Lian’s spine. He crouched lower, relaxing his shoulders and readying his back legs for the jump.
A moment later, he pounced. His aim was perfect, front paws landing squarely on top of the prey — yet two things happened unexpectedly. One, the butterfly dispersed in a cloud of silver sparks, making him sneeze. And, since the butterfly had been perched on top of a stray piece of paper, Xie Lian’s momentum meant that both he and the paper slid atop the desk, right off the other side of it.
Xie Lian expected to fall. It wasn’t far from the ground and the lord in red had been distracted by his guest. He had definitely endured worse and was pretty sure he would be totally fine.
Except he never hit the ground.
Long, black-tipped fingers plucked him from the air. The lord in red was cold but the hand that held him now felt downright chilly, making Xie Lian shiver. He let out a small, frightened sound, claws digging into unfamiliar flesh.
“Ow, fuck.”
The fingers dropped him unceremoniously back onto the desk. Xie Lian landed roughly, stiff with fear, nearly knocking over the dish holding the ink stone. Carefully, he picked himself up, keeping himself low and small, backing away from the stranger who glared down at him in between inspecting his hand.
Turning, Xie Lian ran blindly in the opposite direction, only stopping when he was caught by another set of cold hands. Except this time, they were the ones he knew, the ones he wanted. Giving a cry of relief, he nudged his head into the lord in red’s chest, trying to bury himself in the safety he found there.
“Get out.” The words rumbled like a purr through the lord’s chest. Or maybe more like a growl.
“What? I saved your stupid pet from bashing its skull open, got a hand full of claws in return, and you’re pissed at me?”
“Count yourself lucky those are the only stab wounds you’re walking away with tonight. Scram. For every second you remain in my presence, I’m adding one percent of interest to your loan.”
“What? You’ve got to be fucking—” There was the sound of wood scraping against wood as a chair was shoved back, angry stomping footsteps making their way to the door. “Fuck you, Crimson Rain.”
There was a whoosh as something went flying, a gasp that turned into an enraged growl, and then the door slammed shut.
“I hope your cat gets fucking ticks!” came the muffled shout before the footsteps eventually faded away.
“Fleas, dumbass,” the lord muttered under his breath, his hands that were idly petting Xie Lian now lifting him to his face. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
Xie Lian mewled, trying to convey his soundness of body and relief at the stranger’s absence both. It seemed the lord was genuinely worried. It made sense when paired with his actions for the past months in consideration, especially with the closeness Xie Lian had felt in this little room together. But he had assumed it was mostly one-sided. That the lord merely saw him as something mildly entertaining at best and a pest that needed constant monitoring at worst.
Touching a paw to the lord’s cool cheek in assurance, he gave a stronger, more sure meow. I’m fine.
The lord’s lips twitched into a grin as his fingers came up, wrapping around his paw. “Good,” he said, as if he understood — the way he often responded to Xie Lian. “The next time that trash touches you, I’ll slice him into cutlets and grill him over a fire.”
Xie Lian batted the tip of his nose, the fear completely gone now, sinking beneath the surface of the curse and the lord’s own reassurance in turn.
The offending paw was recaptured and brought to the lord’s mouth where for a moment he pretended like he was going to bite Xie Lian. Unbothered, Xie Lian let him continue until the feigned motion became a very real press of lips delivered to the soft underside.
“I would never let anyone hurt you,” the lord said, sounding suddenly serious, like he was making a promise.
Xie Lian leaned forward, pressing his wet nose to cool skin, and licked him.