Work Text:
It starts, as most things do, with General Pei.
Pei Ming stays mostly out of the communication array. From context clues and a good understanding of both human and godly nature (read: Ling Wen told him), Xie Lian has been able to gather that this is due to some unfortunate incidents where the esteemed General, who is even older than Xie Lian is, had trouble distinguishing the public and the private array, and ended up broadcasting some rather intimate details of his private life to all of Heaven.
And yet, when Xie Lian enters the array to share helpful advice on stretching, he finds that there’s someone already talking.
It’s General Ming Guan, broadcasting some rather intimate details of his private life to all of Heaven.
“-mind a bit of a rough time, if I do say so myself,” Pei Ming says proudly. “Careful of the ones with swords, though. You never know when they might pull it out in the middle of the act. Always make sure to pull out first! Winky Face.”
Winky Face? Xie Lian thinks, but doesn’t say. What he does say, relieved that no one can see his blush, is, “General Ming Guan may not be aware that this is the public array, so-“
“His Highness is here! Right on time,” Pei Ming exclaims. “I was just about to tell these youngsters about the evolution of fellatio over time. His Highness has spent eight hundred years in the lesser realm, surely he has something to add?”
“The evolution of-“ Xie Lian repeats, unable to bring himself to repeat the last word.
“Fellatio,” Pei Ming says helpfully.
There is silence in the array, as everyone else has stopped talking in order to better eavesdrop on Pei Ming asking the Laughingstock of the Three Realms for sex advice. This might be the most exciting thing that’s happened since the Wind Master convinced the Water Master to don a female form, and Pei Ming, aware of the transformation but also unable to resist anything with breasts, promptly extended a dinner invitation, winky face.
Xie Lian thinks of several replies and discards them all, eventually settling on, “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be the right person to ask. Now, if anyone would like advice on stretching, it’s important to-“
“Not the right person! Not the right person? Not the right per- what is it? Excuse me for a minute.”
There’s more silence, while Pei Ming answers what must be a message in the private array. Xie Lian waits, feeling rather awkward indeed, and tries to ignore all the whispers around him.
Just as he’s considering making up an excuse and leaving the communication array and, subsequently, heaven, and not returning for the next decade or so, Pei Ming comes back.
“You’re a virgin?” he asks.
Xie Lian freezes. “Many apologies, but I must be going,” he says loudly.
“Not even once?”
“The pleasure was mine,” Xie Lian says, and exits the array.
He has been back in Puqi Shrine for less than an hour before there’s a knock on- well, not the door, because Xie Lian doesn’t have one. He pulls back the curtain and finds that Pei Ming has knocked on the wall instead. The wall has now a fist-shaped hole in it.
Xie Lian angles the shield asking for donations so that it’s now facing General Pei, hoping that he will notice it.
He doesn’t. “Your Highness,” he booms. “Is it true? You’ve never felt the loving embrace of a woman?”
“Lovely talking to you, now please be on your way.”
Pei Ming looks him up and down, then corrects himself to, “You’ve never felt the loving embrace of a man?”
“Have General Ming Guang’s followers drastically decreased, so that he has time to come visit me at Puqi Shrine? If so, please don’t be sad, I’m sure things will start looking up soon. And please donate, so that things will look up for me, as well.”
Pei Ming pushes past Xie Lian to enter the shrine, leaving Xie Lian no choice but to follow. Inside, Pei Ming frowns at the straw mat on the floor, wrinkles his nose at the shabby altar, and sits down on the only chair, which promptly collapses. “I can help you,” he announces. “Worry not, you shan’t go on without knowing the ways of the flesh for much longer. I’ve already put out an ad.”
“A- what?” Xie Lian asks. As a god, he’s fairly sure he’s not supposed to get headaches like this. Then again, headaches aren’t usually six feet tall, either.
“An ad. His Highness isn’t very popular in Heaven, but he’s still handsome to look at! We’ll find someone to pluck your flower in no time. I would offer myself, but I’m afraid His Highness doesn’t suit my taste. You’re a little too-“
“Male?”
“Short. Now, I must be off – many matters to be dealt with, many followers to seduce! Time waits for no man,” says Pei Ming, who isn’t, strictly speaking, a man. He winks at Xie Lian, or at least attempts to. “I’ll be back!”
“Please don’t scare me like this,” Xie Lian says weakly, but Pei Ming doesn’t hear; he’s already taken off. Through the roof. Which now also has a hole in it.
Xie Lian sighs, and puts on his bamboo hat. It looks like he’s going to have to go into town and buy some tools.
*
PETAL OF THE HEAVENS SEEKS FRIEND TO PLUCK HIS FLOWER
Looking for a good time? Go find His Royal Highness, also known as the Flower-Crowned Martial God, also known as Crown Prince of Xianle, at Puqi Shrine! Requirements: must be willing to provide protection, lube and handcuffs free of charge.
What do you get out of it? Showing a delicate virgin how it’s done!
Only male-presenting gods need apply.
*
As always, visiting Puqi Village isn’t that easy. First, Xie Lian is caught helping a group of old ladies across the street, and then when he has finally aided the last one and crosses the street himself, he’s run over by a cart.
He lies on the dusty street for a while, his eyes closed against the sun shining right in his face, trying to assess his injuries and whether if he gets up now, his bad luck will just lead in him getting run over again.
His decision is made for him when he sees the clouds. If it rains now, Puqi Shrine will be flooded. Xie Lian doesn’t mind sleeping on wet ground, but he would still prefer not to.
Since Pei Ming didn’t donate, and the villagers tend to leave food offerings rather than coin, he collects junk on his way into town, hoping to make enough to pay for the tools he will need to fix the roof. Right as he’s crossing the small bridge a mere mile away from the village when his bag rips, and all his carefully collected scraps go tumbling into the river. Within seconds, the current has washed them away.
Xie Lian looks blankly at the ripped bag in his hand for a few seconds before shaking his head, tugging it into his sleeve. It’s still only afternoon; if he busks, he might still collect enough money to do the renovations.
He has only been walking for a few minutes when a voice calls out.
“Daozhang, are these yours?”
Xie Lian turns to find a man sauntering up to him, holding a bag full of what looks to be the junk Xie Lian just lost.
“They are! Thank you.”
“You should be more careful, Daozhang,” the man scolds. “Some unsavoury elements might find your belongings and run off with them.”
“That’s alright,” Xie Lian replies absently, digging through the bag to see how much was lost to the river, “there isn’t anything worth stealing- eh?”
“What is it?”
Xie Lian holds up the expensive-looking brooch. “I don’t think that’s mine! Someone else must have lost it. It’s best to go into town and find the owner.”
For some reason, the man looks displeased by the suggestion. “Just take it,” he says. “If they lost it, it’s their own fault.”
Xie Lian smiles, shaking his head. “Ah, but wasn’t I at fault, as well? Didn’t I lose things, just like they did? I was lucky to have someone return my stuff. Let them be lucky, too.”
The man finally nods, albeit reluctantly. “Let’s go, then,” he says, much to Xie Lian’s surprise: he didn’t expect this man to come with him.
“How should I address you?” he asks on the way. The man has taken the bag of junk from him and has slung it over one shoulder, carrying it with ease. At Xie Lian’s question, he smiles.
“You can call me San Lang,” he says, lips twitching as if from a joke only he can hear.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian repeats. “Alright. Then, you can call me Xie Lian – Daozhang makes me sound old.”
San Lang’s eyes widen for a split second. “Gege isn’t old,” he protests.
You’d be the first to say that, Xie Lian thinks to himself. Even in Heaven, he’s among the oldest of the immortals.
In Puqi Village, Xie Lian sells his junk for barely enough coins to buy a hammer and some nails, which will have to be enough. He doesn’t have enough money left to buy dinner, but Puqi Shrine is located near a walnut tree, and he can always try fishing. The last time he did that, he ended up wrestling with a shark, but Xie Lian won, and he had fresh fish for a whole week afterwards.
At first, he assumes San Lang will simply accompany him to the market before saying his goodbyes; instead, he stays with Xie Lian the entire time. Xie Lian finds it hard to believe that such a young, handsome man shouldn’t have anywhere else to be, but he doesn’t ask, and San Lang doesn’t tell.
It’s already growing dark by the time Xie Lian has finished all his errands. “I’m afraid this is where I leave you,” he says, feeling somewhat regretful about it. San Lang has been good company, and unlike the Heavenly Officials, he hasn’t asked any nosy questions.
San Lang frowns. “Why is that, Gege?”
Xie Lian awkwardly gestures to the small bag of tools he bought. “I must be going home now,” he says. “My roof needs fixing, and it looks like rain tonight, so the matter can’t be delayed.”
San Lang considers this for a few seconds before nodding decisively. “I’ll come with you,” he says.
“You- ah?”
“Don’t worry, Gege,” San Lang says, already striding ahead, “I know how to fix roofs.”
That wasn’t what I’m worried about, Xie Lian thinks, and hurries to catch up with him.
When they arrive at Puqi Shrine, San Lang wastes no time in stripping down to the waist (“the heat, Gege,” he explains, while Xie Lian is shivering in the harsh Autumn air) and climbing on the roof. Xie Lian watches him for a while, at first because he wants to check if San Lang knows what he’s doing and if Xie Lian is going to have to fix it later. But San Lang works in unhurried, efficient movements, showing no sign of hesitation, and so there isn’t really a reason for Xie Lian to keep watching. And yet he finds himself unable to look away.
San Lang has a strong, healthy body, his muscles glistening with sweat as he works. Just once, he catches Xie Lian’s gaze, smirking down at him. Xie Lian flushes and finally goes inside, where he spends a few minutes washing his face with cold water and simply breathing.
It isn’t until San Lang is finished that Xie Lian remembers that he doesn’t have any food at home. “I’m very sorry,” he says, wringing his hands, “I would have liked to treat you to a meal for your hard work.”
“You don’t need to treat me to anything,” San Lang says immediately. “I’m happy helping out.”
“That’s no attitude to fill your purse with, San Lang,” says Xie Lian, who has neither money nor purse.
San Lang taps his lip a few times, looking deep in thought. “If I hunted us some meat, Gege could cook it. Dinner served, no debts remain.”
“That could work,” Xie Lian says. San Lang has disappeared before Xie Lian has the chance to remind him to put on robes again.
With San Lang off hunting, there isn’t much left to do. Xie Lian sweeps the floor, shakes out the straw mat, fixes the hole in the wall, and bandages his hand afterwards so that he doesn’t get blood all over the place.
He’s just debating making a fire when there’s a voice in his head.
“Your Highness! Excellent news.”
“General Pei,” Xie Lian says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I see you’ve figured out the password to my private array.”
“His Highness’ beauty is much admired in the Heavens, just as I suspected. I have made a list of the ten most promising applicants. I can send you the list, or I can just sample their skills for myself! Whichever you prefer.”
“I would prefer some peace and quiet,” Xie Lian says pointedly. For the first time, he wishes for a faster drain of his spiritual power, so that he can end their conversation without being overly rude.
“Playing hard to get, I see!” Pei Ming’s booming laugh echoes through the communication array. “Well, I can’t say that tactic has never worked for me. Message received! I will further narrow down the list, and send you the most eligible options down for a personal interview. No need to thank me!”
Who said anything about thanks, Xie Lian wonders, as Pei Ming exits the array at last.
Every time Xie Lian goes out to hunt, all the animals are either mysteriously absent, or ganging up on him. But San Lang’s luck must be exceptionally good, because he returns within an hour, bringing with him three dead rabbits and one small deer, all of which he meticulously skins before presenting them to Xie Lian.
Xie Lian takes one rabbit and sets the rest aside, having half a mind to sell them in the village tomorrow. He makes a stew, while San Lang busies himself making a door and two chairs for them two sit on, after Xie Lian’s last chair died a tragic death under Pei Ming. He is still shirtless, Xie Lian notices. It seems a little odd to point it out, so Xie Lian doesn’t.
“Gege is quiet,” San Lang says at some point during the meal. He’s set aside his spoon, and so Xie Lian stops eating, too.
“I’m not quiet, just – thinking.”
“Anything interesting?”
The truth is, Xie Lian hat meant to think about what Pei Ming said, but instead, his thoughts had kept wandering back to San Lang’s bare upper body. That’s embarrassing to admit to, so instead, Xie Lian waits until San Lang has started eating the stew again, his dark eyes mercifully averted, and says, “San Lang, it’s not weird to be inexperienced, right?”
San Lang chokes. Xie Lian worries that it’s his cooking, but San Lang shakes his head, declining the proffered water with a wave of his hand. “Your cooking is fine,” he says, once he recovered enough to speak again. “I imagine not even kings can dine this well. But – why is Gege asking such things?”
“No reason,” Xie Lian says hastily. His face is burning, something he hopes San Lang hasn’t spotted. “I’ve just been wondering, lately. You’re too young to understand this, but when you get to be as old as I am-“
“You’re not old!”
“-then there are sometimes things people expect you to know. Things people expect you to have done. But it’s been such a long time, and you’re not even sure what those things are, or how exactly they work, and it’s all such a big mess.” Xie Lian smiles to himself, thinking that San Lang probably won’t know what he’s talking about. How could he? Before Xie Lian ascended, he would never have dreamed of being in this kind of situation.
San Lang has an odd look on his face. Xie Lian is just about to apologise and change the subject, when suddenly, San Lang says, “If you would ever like finding out – more –, then this San Lang has plenty of experience for both of us. I could show you.”
Xie Lian puts down his spoon. He knows his mouth is open, and he’s staring, but he can’t seem to stop.
Show him?
San Lang can’t mean – but he does. He sounds utterly serious about it.
Is this just what today’s youth is like, Xie Lian desperately thinks to himself. But then again – maybe this is the solution. Maybe if he lets San Lang do this for him, then Pei Ming will leave him alone.
Xie Lian’s gaze falls, almost against his own volition, back on San Lang’s naked torso. His muscles are very well-defined. There is no way he’s as strong as a martial god, but then again, no one would be.
Xie Lian licks his lips.
When he looks back at San Lang’s face, San Lang is smiling at him. In the end, that’s what decides it.
Xie Lian says, “Then, if San Lang is willing, please do. Please show me.”
*
Interlude
There is a line in front of the Palace of Ming Guang. It stretches out all the way down the Martial Deity Avenue, eventually trailing off just a few steps short of the Great Martial Hall. Most people are holding folders, but some are holding other things. Other, phallic-shaped things.
Every once in a while, someone will exit the palace, and the line will move up a bit. Apart from that, nothing much is happening. People wait, and sometimes, people enter. Mostly, they wait.
Inside the palace, Pei Ming is seated on an armchair several metres away from Ling Wen. The armchair used to be a sofa, and they used to share it, for exactly eighty-seven seconds.
Eighty-seven seconds is, coincidentally, the amount of time Pei Ming is able to be near to a woman without grabbing her boobs.
Ling Wen has just shown out an applicant, but doesn’t immediately let in the next one.
“You know,” she says, “I do have work to do.”
“Noble Jie,” Pei Ming says, affronted, “is there a better work in the world than helping a friend get blown away?”
There’s a pause.
“Blown away,” Pei Ming repeats.
“No,” Ling Wen says, “I got it.” She sighs. It’s a sigh of resignation. “Ten more. Then I’m going back to my palace.”
“His Highness appreciates your sacrifice,” Pei Ming says confidently, and calls for the next applicant.
*
Xie Lian wakes up feeling pleasantly sore and also a bit cold. Last night, he’d fallen asleep in San Lang’s arms, but now, he’s lying alone on the straw mat, the space next to him empty.
“San Lang?” he tentatively calls out. There is no reply. Xie Lian sits up, having half a mind to go search for San Lang outside, when he bumps against the altar, and there’s the clinkering sound of something falling to the ground.
Many somethings.
Crouching down, Xie Lian finds several pieces of gold. Donations? But the donation box was empty yesterday, and he would have noticed someone coming in to pray. Besides, this is a long-forgotten shrine to a long-forgotten prince. Who is going to donate?
He carefully places all the coins back on the altar, and only now sees that there is a note, as well. Xie Lian picks it up, and frowns. It’s a mess of indecipherable symbols. Whatever it is, it certainly holds no answers.
Xie Lian gets dressed, thankful that his robes, though simple, cover most of his hickeys. San Lang had been thoughtful and gentle, but also quite – possessive, at times. Xie Lian presses down on one of the bruises on his neck and blushes, just like he blushed last night.
And then it comes to him.
He looks around the shrine, which is small enough that any additional person would be noticed immediately. He looks, just for good measure, outside, where morning dew has settled on the grass and the sun is just rising. There’s no one here, just like there’s no one inside the shrine.
And finally, Xie Lian looks back at the altar. At the gold coins that definitely weren’t here twelve hours ago.
San Lang has left, and in his place, there is money. Donations to the shrine? Or payment?
Xie Lian stores the coins in the donation box. Money is money, he thinks to himself. In the past, he might have been embarrassed, but that was several lifetimes ago. And isn’t it almost flattering that San Lang not only wanted to sleep with him, but also deemed him good enough to pay this much?
Breakfast is a quiet affair. Xie Lian warms up the leftovers from yesterday’s dinner, which don’t taste as good now that San Lang isn’t here to praise them.
His thoughts keep going back to last night. What he did – what San Lang and he did together –, it was nice. Really nice. It’s a shame that San Lang left without even saying goodbye. Then again, Xie Lian thinks, this must be how these type of transactions usually go. It’s a miracle that San Lang stayed the night at all.
After the meal, he goes into the village again. San Lang must have lent him a bit of his good luck, because Xie Lian is able to walk the entire way without any incidents, and at today’s market, he sells the meat from yesterday for almost as much as it’s worth.
Feeling quite cheerful, Xie Lian treats himself to a steamed bun with meat afterwards, and it only falls into the dirt once.
When he gets back to Puqi Shrine after the second-best day he’s had in a long time, there are two people there waiting for him.
“This is where you live?” Feng Xin demands.
“This is what you wore to go out?” Mu Qing asks judgementally.
Xie Lian touches the frayed hem of his robes self-consciously and changes the subject by asking, “What brings you here?”
Feng Xin and Mu Qing share a look. This is enough to worry Xie Lian, to whose knowledge Feng Xin and Mu Qing are not in the look-sharing habit. On second thought, it’s also odd that they arrived together – and that the place is still standing after they did.
“Maybe he hasn’t heard,” Feng Xin says.
“Impossible. He’s probably just embarrassed.” Mu Qing rolls his eyes.
“Heard what?” Xie Lian asks.
Feng Xin and Mu Qing share another look.
“I don’t think so,” Feng Xin says. “Look at him! Look how confused he is.”
“That’s just his usual face,” Mu Qing says.
“He can hear you,” Xie Lian says pleasantly, and strides past them into the shrine. To his regret, they both follow him inside.
The polite thing to do is to offer them tea, but he’s all out of tea leaves. Xie Lian presents them with cups of hot water instead, which in his experience is almost as good and at least keeps you warm. There are only two chairs – both of which are brand-new, thanks to San Lang’s efforts –, and Feng Xin and Mu Qing immediately claim both of them, so Xie Lian sits down on the floor.
Feng Xing stands up at once. “Your Highness, take this chair.”
“No need! I’m very comfortable here,” Xie Lian says honestly. The floor isn’t too bad; it’s clean, and not even that cold.
“I insist.”
“If I take this chair, then you will be left standing! As your host, I can’t allow that.”
“So take his chair,” Feng Xin says, jerking his head at Mu Qing, who’s calmly sipping his hot water and thus far has been ignoring the conversation.
“Excuse you?” he says icily.
Xie Lian makes placating hand gestures and says, “There is no need for anyone to give up his chair! I’ll just stay on the floor. After all, this is where we slept last night, too! Really, not too bad at all.”
Feng Xin huffs, and storms out. After a few seconds, there’s the sound of hammering.
Xie Lian looks at the now empty chair. Another second passes. He sits down.
“We,” Mu Qing says suddenly.
“Ah?”
“You said ‘we’. So who is this person you shared a floor with?”
Xie Lian slumps. He supposes it’s better to get this over with. At least, he reasons, it’s only Mu Qing, and not -
The door opens, and Feng Xin walks back in, putting down a chair and sitting down with a gusty sigh.
“Did you just make that?” Xie Lian asks.
Mu Qing is still staring at him. It’s possible that he’s intending to make Xie Lian uncomfortable; unbeknownst to him, Xie Lian has several hundred years of experience in awkward silences and accusing stares.
Feng Xin, unaware of any tension but eager to create his own, barks, “So we hear you’re auctioning off your dignity now.”
“Dignity?” Xie Lian repeats blankly. “You must have misheard. Whoever told you is unaware that I haven’t had any dignity for centuries now.”
“Does your boyfriend know that, as well?” Mu Qing asks. He’s smiling unpleasantly, for no reason that Xie Lian can discern.
Feng Xin’s head whips around comically fast, his face already purpling. “His what? Don’t spread lies like that!”
“Why don’t you let His Highness tell you if I’m lying,” Mu Qing says. He takes another sip of hot water, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world, entirely unaware that across the table, Xie Lian has started sweating.
Both of them are looking at him now, one with disbelief, the other with a faint air of smugness.
Xie Lian musters up a smile and says, “His name is San Lang. But-“
“That’s not a real name!” Feng Xin thunders. “So that bastard General Pei was right? You-!”
Mu Qing appears to be cleaning his fingernails. “How did you even meet someone?” he asks casually. “What did you do, pay him?”
Feeling even more awkward than before, Xie Lian winces.
“What,” Feng Xin says. Mu Qing says nothing, apparently struck speechless.
“Not exactly,” Xie Lian says hastily. “Ah, you got it all wrong. I have no coin to spare for even myself, let alone somebody else.” He pauses, as a thought occurs to him. “Actually,” he says, “I don’t know if you saw the donation box-“
“So you didn’t pay him,” Feng Xin clarifies, sadly not sounding like he has intentions of donating.
“Not exactly,” Xie Lian says.
They stare at him. Xie Lian is still sweating.
He says, “I didn’t pay him. He paid me.” Silence. Xie Lian wipes the sweat off his brow, attempts smiling again, and asks, “Now, would you two like to stay for dinner?”
*
Interlude
Whoever enters the communication array at this hour will quickly realise that Heaven is in an uproar. Ever since Generals Nan Yang Zhen Jun and Xuan Zhen have returned, they have been fighting.
When humans fight, voices may be raised and plates may be shattered.
When gods fight, the echo of their shouting carries down into the mortal realm, and instead of cutlery, entire streets get destroyed.
It is, the heavenly officials all agree, most exciting.
On the Martial Deity Avenue, Feng Xin has just sent Mu Qing flying into a palace. Because it was his own, no one particularly minds.
“Does anyone know what they’re fighting about?” asks someone over the array.
“A woman,” one of the officials suggests.
“Merits,” says another one.
“Could be a lover’s spat,” a third one proposes, only to be quickly silenced, because the fight has just gotten more interesting.
Mu Qing spits blood on the ground and snaps, “My fault? If anyone is at fault, it’s-“
“If you say His Highness, so help me-“
“-that bastard who bought him!”
The communication array falls silent as everyone exits it all at once. Within seconds, they all drift to the private array of Pei Ming, who had been enjoying his thrice-daily post-coital nap and isn’t too happy at being woken up like this – until he hears what it’s all about.
*
This time, Xie Lian is prepared. He has spent the better part of his morning working on a new sign, and so when his next unwanted visitor arrives in the lesser realm with an appropriate crash of thunder, they’ll be immediately confronted with a huge banner that asks the reader to PLEASE DONATE (SMILEY FACE).
The thunder crashes, the donation box is opened, but when Xie Lian goes outside to check, he can see that Pei Ming isn’t adding anything – instead, he appears to simply be inspecting the contents.
“Can I help you?” Xie Lian asks.
Pei Ming’s face brightens at the sight of Xie Lian, but only for a moment. “You’ve ruined my entry,” he accuses. “Would Your Highness mind turning his back for a second? Count to five.”
Xie Lian turns his back, and at the count of five, turns back around, only to see Pei Ming now striding in his direction, the sound of thunder accompanying each of his steps.
“How is Lord Thunder Master these days?” Xie Lian inquires politely.
Pei Ming tucks away the Thunder Master Fan. “As striking as ever,” he says, and winks. “But! What’s this I hear about His Highness’ latest endeavours?”
“Endeavours?”
To Xie Lian’s alarm, Pei Ming raises an arm. But instead of striking down, he merely waits. Xie Lian blinks. Pei Ming blinks too. “You have to slap my hand,” he explains.
“Why?”
“I-“ Pei Ming falters. “I don’t know,” he admits eventually. “I hear it’s a thing now.”
Xie Lian takes pity on him and slaps Pei Ming’s raised hand. They’re both martial gods, and so Pei Ming only staggers back a few steps instead of falling to the ground.
“Anyway,” Pei Ming says grandly once he’s recovered, “when I heard the news, I had to come down and see for myself.”
“I wish you wouldn’t have,” Xie Lian says.
“There’s no need to be humble! And there’s no need to apologise to me for going through all this unnecessary trouble, either!” Pei Ming pauses, looking at Xie Lian expectantly. Xie Lian looks back, just as expectantly. Eventually, Pei Ming says, “Aren’t you going to apologise?”
“I’m very sorry for making Ming Guang go through all this unnecessary trouble,” Xie Lian says promptly. “It’s probably best if you return to Heaven and don’t speak another word to me for the next century, so as to preserve your dignity.”
“Nonsense, it’s all forgiven,” Pei Ming says, much to Xie Lian’s regret. “And now that that’s done with, let me congratulate His Highness for taking the matter into his own hands, and for doing it so cunningly, too.”
“Ah? I think you’ve misunderstood-“
“Misunderstood! Misunderstood? Misunder- Your Highness, you have not only found someone to lose your innocence to, but you’ve also gotten paid for it! Although I must say, now that your cherry has been, as they say, popped, you can’t expect such a high sum for it again.” Pei Ming shakes his head in sympathy. “For next time, it’s best to settle on a price range immediately. Have you thought about some ground rules? You need to- oh.”
Xie Lian follows Pei Ming’s gaze to see a stranger walking up to Puqi Shrine. Thinking that it might be one of the villagers asking for assistance, Xie Lian subtly positions himself in front of Pei Ming, so not to scare off a potential client.
“Look, it’s a potential client,” Pei Ming whisper-shouts in his ear. He doesn’t say client like he means client. He says it like he means -
Client.
Xie Lian’s face is surely as red as San Lang’s robes. He takes another look at the man still calmly walking towards them. He doesn’t look very – unlawful –, but then again, neither did San Lang.
It’s been less than two days. Is it possible that news has already spread?
“Xie Lian?” the man asks when he’s only a few steps away. Xie Lian nods. The man thrusts a bouquet of roses at him. “This is for you. From-“ He hesitates, wrinkling his nose. “San Lang,” he says.
“Oh,” Xie Lian says.
“Oh,” Pei Ming says. He snatches the bouquet away before Xie Lian can take it, rifling through the flowers until- “Aha! A card. Asking for a second session, no doubt!”
“Pray General Ming Guang stop calling it that.”
“Let’s see, it says here-“ Pei Ming pauses, frowning down at the card. Xie Lian glances at it over his shoulder: it’s the same mess of random symbols as the letter from the other day. A joke, maybe. Or – and at this, Xie Lian blanches, imagining what his old guoshi would have said – maybe this is just San Lang’s handwriting.
Pei Ming is still trying to interpret it, currently stuck on the very first word. “I’m almost confident that this is says ‘dear’. Dear – Gege? No, that can’t be right.”
Xie Lian blushes, and says nothing. He realises that the messenger has left, which is probably for the best.
Pei Ming returns the card to the bouquet, evidently having given up. “He must want to meet you again,” he proclaims.
Xie Lian perks up against his will. “You think so?”
Satisfied at finally having received a response, Pei Ming draws himself up to his full height. “Of course! Now, let’s talk about prices.”
They talk about prices (or, to be more precise, Pei Ming talks about prices) while Xie Lian chops firewood, and they talk about Do’s and Don’ts (or, to be more precise, Pei Ming talks about Do’s and Don’ts) while Xie Lian cooks dinner, and they’ve only just started talking about performance-enhancing talismans (or, to be more precise, Pei Ming has only just started talking about performance-enhancing talismans), when a carriage pulls up outside.
This in itself is already remarkable, because there’s no paved street leading up to Puqi Shrine, and thus nothing for a carriage to safely drive on. On second look, Xie Lian realises that the horses have wings.
The driver is no ordinary man, either. He tips his hat to them, revealing his bare skull underneath it. There’s no doubt that this man is a ghost.
“Xie Lian?” the driver asks, and for the second time today, Xie Lian nods. “Please get inside, Your Highness. We’ve no time to lose. Hua Chengzhu is expecting you.”
“Who?” Xie Lian asks.
The driver’s face reveals nothing, on account of being a skull. “San Lang.”
“Ah,” Xie Lian says. He throws an unsure glance at the shrine. “It’s just that I have a soup on the stove…“
“That’s a soup?” Pei Ming asks. Seeing Xie Lian’s dejected look, he hastily adds, “And I’m sure it will be delicious indeed. But you mustn’t keep your suitors waiting like this.”
“Take it with you,” the driver suggests. Upon a wave of his hand, two of the winged horses transform into vaguely humanoid ghosts who instantly enter the shrine, exiting mere minutes later with the crockpot.
With that taken care of, there’s nothing left to do. Xie Lian bows to Pei Ming and gets in the carriage, and they’re off. Pei Ming is left standing at Puqi Shrine, and from the distance, Xie Lian hears him saying, “Wait, did he say Hua Chengzhu?”
*
Xie Lian spends most of the carriage ride looking through the window, and so sees the exact moment they leave the mortal realm and enter the realm of ghosts.
Hua Chengzhu, he thinks. Then he thinks of the carriage, and the ghost servants, and when they enter a city, he thinks about that, too. Xie Lian smiles to himself, shaking his head even though no one can see, and promptly discards the thought. It doesn’t make a difference, anyway.
The carriage comes to a stop in front of a truly magnificent manor, the kind that would make even the Great Martial Hall pale in comparison. A servant comes to take the pot of soup from him, and another comes to show him inside. Xie Lian follows, feeling out of place in his threadbare robes.
“Wait here,” the servant says, leading him into a drawing room. Once alone, Xie Lian inspects his surroundings. There’s no bed, only a sofa. Does this mean San Lang wants to have a chat first? Or does he want – on the sofa?
“Gege,” comes a voice from the door. “Please excuse this San Lang for keeping you waiting.”
“No apologies necessary,” Xie Lian says, smiling at San Lang. “You’re here now.”
San Lang smiles back, and – oh. “You look different today,” Xie Lian says.
San Lang freezes. “Gege-“
“I wonder,” Xie Lian says, reaching out to cup San Lang’s cheek in one hand, marvelled once again that he’s allowed to touch, “which one is San Lang’s real form? The one I met? Or the one before me?”
San Lang closes his eye, the other kept hidden by an eyepatch that wasn’t present two nights ago. “I didn’t mean to deceive you,” he says.
“I told you,” Xie Lian says, “no apologies necessary. This form or any other, it doesn’t matter. Hua Cheng or San Lang, it doesn’t matter.”
Hua Cheng leans into his touch for a few more seconds before abruptly straightening up. “Have you eaten yet? I will have something brought for us. Anything you want.”
“Ah.” Xie Lian clears his throat. “I have brought soup for us.”
“You have?” Hua Cheng smirks. “In that case, we must eat it immediately. I’m famished.”
Xie Lian doubts this is true, but brightens up anyway when they sit down to eat and Hua Cheng praises his soup to the high heavens. If this is what the world’s oldest profession is always like, then Xie Lian will happily do this to the end of his days, or until San Lang grows tired of him. Whichever comes first.
At some point during the meal, there’s a ping in his head, followed by Pei Ming’s booming voice.
“Your Highness? Have you started yet? I’ve researched the anatomy of ghosts, and I found-“
There’s another ping. This time, it’s Feng Xin, who talks loudly enough to drown out everything else, even the sound of Pei Ming speculating about Hua Cheng’s genitals. “You’re putting out for Hua Cheng? Have you lost your mind? Whatever he’s paying you, I will-”
“Something wrong, Gege?” Hua Cheng asks casually.
“Just thinking about a way to quickly drain my spiritual energy.”
Hua Cheng raises one elegant eyebrow, his fingers tapping the stem of his wine glass the only indication that he’s not as collected as he seems. “Oh? In that case, why don’t you lend some to me?”
“San Lang is so clever,” Xie Lian says, trying to ignore the fact that Pei Ming and Feng Xin are still shouting at him through the array. He holds out his hand, frowning when Hua Cheng doesn’t take it. “San Lang?”
“Not like this, Gege.” Hua Cheng rises from the table, and Xie Lian follows suit. “There are better ways.”
His lips are mere inches away from Xie Lian’s own when he realises what ‘better ways’ Hua Cheng could possibly mean. And then they’re kissing, and Hua Cheng’s hands are buried in his hair, pulling him close, and Xie Lian is so distracted that he almost forgets why they’re doing this until Hua Cheng breaks away, muttering, “Gege, your powers.”
Of course.
The next time they kiss, Xie Lian is prepared. He opens his inner barriers and pours out all the spiritual energy he has left, pours it all right into Hua Cheng.
The voices in his head stop.
Xie Lian and Hua Cheng keep going.
Later, they’re lying in bed together, Xie Lian absently stroking Hua Cheng’s hair. Hua Cheng leans into it like a cat. “I have something to give to you,” he says, voice sleepy.
For just a second, Xie Lian’s hand stills, before it resumes its motion. “What is it?”
Hua Cheng doesn’t reply. The even rise and fall of his chest indicates that he’s fallen asleep.
Xie Lian isn’t sure what the protocol is here. At Puqi Shrine, it was up to Hua Cheng to leave or stay as he pleased. Now, the decision is Xie Lian’s, and he doesn’t know what to do with it, doesn’t know what Hua Cheng expects. At the very least, he thinks, it’s only sensible to stay until morning. Anything else can be a problem for the Xie Lian of tomorrow to consider.
In the morning, Xie Lian wakes, once again, to an empty bed. He doesn’t have much time to feel wistful about it, because just as soon as he’s realised Hua Cheng is gone, the door opens and Hua Cheng enters with a breakfast tray.
“You didn’t have to trouble yourself,” Xie Lian protests, even as his stomach growls. “At the very least, I could have cooked.”
At the mention of Xie Lian’s cooking, Hua Cheng looks honestly torn for a second, before giving a resolute shake of his head. “You’ve already cooked for us two times. It’s my turn now.”
That sounds fair, and so Xie Lian allows Hua Cheng to hand him a plate filled to the brim with various breakfast foods. For a few minutes, Xie Lian is too busy digging in to notice much of anything, but eventually, he realises that Hua Cheng is staring at him.
“San Lang?”
“It’s nothing, Gege. Just wondering how I got this lucky.”
That is something Xie Lian has never, not once in his life, had cause to wonder. And yet, isn’t he sitting here right now, in a warm room with four walls and a functioning roof? Doesn’t he have food on his plate? Doesn’t he have San Lang by his side?
Xie Lian says, “I understand,”, and means it completely.
After breakfast, he finds out that what Hua Cheng meant to give him last night is not another bag full of coins. It’s-
“-for you, Gege,” Hua Cheng is saying. “It’s all for you.”
“It’s a crown,” Xie Lian says weakly.
It is.
At the very least, Xie Lian reasons to himself, it’s a very nice crown. As far as crowns go, this one can be considered among the very best.
“Take it,” Hua Cheng urges, so Xie Lian does. He can’t bring himself to put it on his head.
“This is too much,” Xie Lian says, privately thinking that last time, he could at least use the cash to improve the shrine. What is he supposed to do with a crown?
“Nothing is too much if it pleases Gege.” Hua Cheng suddenly looks concerned. “Does it please you?” he asks. “Say the word, and I will take it back. Whatever you wish.”
It doesn’t not please Xie Lian. It’s just that it’s been eight hundred years since he had a use of such things, and this is not very likely to change any time soon.
But it very clearly pleases Hua Cheng. So Xie Lian takes the crown and tucks it away, bowing in thanks, and has mostly forgotten about it by the time Hua Cheng leads him back to the carriage. Maybe, he thinks, Hua Cheng, in spite of what experiences he claimed to have, isn’t very experienced at all when it comes to dealing with workers of an – intimate nature. Maybe he’s not very familiar with appropriate payments. That’s okay, though, because neither is Xie Lian.
“You must come back soon,” Hua Cheng says, a twinkle in his eye. “If only so that I can return your spiritual powers to you.”
“Oh, there’s no need for that,” Xie Lian says unthinkingly, remembering the chaos of the array.
Hua Cheng’s face falls. “If I overstepped-“
“No, no,” Xie Lian hastens to say, “I just meant you can keep the powers. But I would love to come back, if San Lang will still have me.”
“This San Lang will always have you,” Hua Cheng says at once. “In any way you like.”
Xie Lian’s blush doesn’t fade all the way until he arrives back at Puqi Shrine – which he spends less than two minutes at before there’s a beam of light from the sky, accompanied by a crash of thunder, and three martial gods descend from Heaven to forcibly drag him back to the Upper Realm.
*
All palaces of the martial gods look more or less the same. There are always a lot of swords, some huge list of all the enemies that suffered and/or died under the palace owner’s hand (usually carved in marble, sometimes written in blood), and at least five huge statues.
The Wind Master Palace is somewhat special. “I don’t think I recognise those names,” Xie Lian says, once he wakes up tied to a chair in the middle of a huge banquet hall. “Are those all your enemies, Lord Wind Master?”
“Eh? No, no. Those are the people who’ve sent me well-wishes over the last few centuries. Well, sent them to my brother. He always takes care of them for me! Ge truly is the sweetest.”
Pei Ming, who has been friends with Shi Wudu for centuries, chokes on air. He chokes again when he realises that Shi Qingxuan has donned her female form while he was looking away. “Lord Wind Master, do you mind-“
“Of course, of course,” Shi Qingxuan says, changing back into his male form and smiling sunnily at Pei Ming. He is, as most of Heaven’s deities, well aware of Pei Ming’s special condition (chronic womaniser) and always happy to help the General’s brain function more smoothly, lest the blood flow be redirected.
Xie Lian experimentally flexes his muscles. The rope binding him to the chair snaps. Xie Lian considers this, then hunches a little to hide this fact.
Somewhere in the hall, the doors open, and two sets of footsteps approach. It is, naturally, Feng Xin and Mu Qing. They are also carrying a banner.
The banner reads XIENTERVENTION.
Xie Lian watches with polite interest as Feng Xin and Mu Qing struggle to put up the banner between two pillars. “Using a talisman often helps with these things,” he says, after Mu Qing’s end of the banner just fell down, burying him beneath it.
“Shut up,” Mu Qing hisses, but doesn’t protest when Feng Xin wordlessly hands him a talisman.
Done at last, Feng Xin brushes himself off and comes to stand right in front of Xie Lian’s chair. The other three stand beside him, forming a neat row of two people glowering, one person looking impressed, and one person looking confused.
“This,” Feng Xin says, “is an intervention.”
Xie Lian smiles up at him.
“Ugh,” Feng Xin snaps, “I can’t take this. Someone else start.”
“Your Highness, we’ve come to congratulate you on your excellent progress, and to advise you on protection, hard limits, and knotted dildos. To start, let’s talk about-“
“That,” Feng Xin says between gritted teeth, “is not why we’ve come.”
Pei Ming frowns at him. “It isn’t?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Pei Ming looks disappointed. Next to him, Shi Qingxuan subtly tucks away his flashcards.
Mu Qing, his gaze studiously fixated on a point several metres to the left of Xie Lian’s head, says, “What we mean to say is, if Your Highness wants to keep shaming Heaven and yourself, you’re free to do so. We don’t care.”
Feng Xin grits out, “Try again.”
Mu Qing’s face twitches like he’s tasted something sour. “Fine. Some of us care. Personally, I think Crimson Rain has abysmal taste, and to be honest, someone of your age should be lucky to-“
“Stick to the script,” Feng Xin hisses at him. Mu Qing sighs deeply.
“The reason we asked you here-“
“Did you ask?” Xie Lian asks pleasantly.
“-is that we’ve decided to save your dignity. Or what’s left of it.”
“Ah?”
Feng Xin snaps his fingers. Nothing happens. He snaps his fingers again. Xie Lian tilts his head.
“Lord Wind Master,” Feng Xin whispers furiously.
Shi Qingxuan perks up. “Oh! Yes. Of course.” Clearing his throat, he says importantly, “Bring it in!”
At his command, two servants enter the palace, carrying between them a big box full of-
“Junk?” Xie Lian says. He feels exhausted.
“We’ve all pitched in,” Shi Qingxuan says proudly. “These old lipsticks are mine, and, ha, that Sexy Goddess costume is mine, too-“
“Actually,” Pei Ming says, “that one’s from me.” He holds it up; it’s very short and has holes in areas that make Xie Lian blush.
“Right, of course! Mine is still in the laundry. Anyway, and here are a lot of- I think these are axes? From Nan Yang, and the rest is just a lot of scraps that we found. Well, that our servants found. Well, that our servants’ servants found.”
“And I’m meant to…throw it away for you?” Xie Lian asks. Shi Qingxuan’s face falls, so he hastily backtracks. “I mean, you want me to take it?”
“Yes! Take it and sell it. Just think of how rich you’ll be!”
“I’m told that this is how Your Highness used to make his living,” Pei Ming says. “The business of the flesh is much more lucrative, but your friends-“
“I’m not his friend,” Mu Qing says immediately.
“-assured me that you were much more comfortable with the collecting and selling of trash. Apparently. So we all cleared out our palaces to show our support. Go on, take it. It’s all yours.” Pei Ming encouragingly pushes the box at him until Xie Lian takes it.
Shi Qingxuan peers at his face from an alarming lack of distance between the two of them. “Why aren’t you crying? They said there’d be tears of joy!”
Xie Lian doesn’t need to ask who ‘they’ are. In the back, Mu Qing is doing a terrible job of suppressing his laughter. “I’m having trouble processing my emotions right now,” he says truthfully, and Shi Qingxuan nods, appeased.
Now that they’ve delivered their gift, the gods seem to be at a loss on what to do next. Eventually, Feng Xin comes to loosen Xie Lian’s ropes, not noticing that they’ve already snapped. “You can go now,” he says gruffly.
Xie Lian nods.
“But stay out of trouble!”
Xie Lian nods.
“That means staying out of Ghost City, too,” Mu Qing says.
Xie Lian waves, already on his way out the door.
The box of junk propped up against his hip, he takes a deep breath, and descends to the mortal realm.
Back in the Wind Master Palace, Feng Xin takes a deep breath too. “That went well,” he says.
*
Xie Lian stores the box in one dusty corner of Puqi Shrine, right next to the crown from Hua Cheng, and thinks about how best to get to Ghost City. Before, Hua Cheng had sent a carriage, but Xie Lian can’t expect this to happen again, and doesn’t want to be presumptuous in any case.
Some of the heavenly officials probably know, but asking them is out of the question.
At some point during these considerations, Xie Lian’s gaze falls on the donation box. He has yet to spend the money Hua Cheng gave him after their first night together. In his experience, any money he earns tends to get misplaced long before he has a chance to use it, but when he opens the box, it’s still there.
Xie Lian doesn’t hesitate for long. He removes two thirds of the coins, leaving the remaining money for future renovations or, more likely, any thieves who happen to come about the shrine.
After, he puts up a new sign outside. This one reads, THE SHRINE IS EMPTY FOR NOW, AND SO IS THE DONATION BOX. PLEASE DONATE, OR HELP YOURSELF TO THE LEFTOVER STEW IN THE KITCHEN. SMILEY FACE.
Satisfied with his work, he closes the door Hua Cheng built for him, and is on his way.
He’s wandered the mortal realm for eight hundred years without finding the ghost realm. Then again, he’s never attempted to look for it before. Surely, even someone of his bad luck must stumble upon it eventually.
He has only been walking for a few miles, not even long enough to reach Puqi Village, when a silver butterfly lands on his head. The last time Xie Lian was confronted with an insect like this, it grew sharp claws that he then had an allergic reaction to. But this one seems content to simply rest for a while, no claws forthcoming, and no demon spirit bursting from it and tackling Xie Lian to the ground.
Figuring that anyone deserves to rest, Xie Lian lets it stay, half-expecting it to take off again soon.
It doesn’t.
His feet hurt by the time he makes camp for the night. He has managed to find a forest clearing that only has one dark cave and two fairy rings on it, which is a fairly good ratio. He makes sure to stay clear of the cave, and when he comes back from chopping some wood for a fire, he realises that in his absence, both fairy rings have been ripped apart. In their place is only the butterfly, and – another one?
“You’ve found a friend,” Xie Lian says happily. After getting a fire going, both butterflies rest on his shoulders, and Xie Lian is careful not to shake them off. Every now and then, he stokes the fire with a large stick he found, so as not to let it fizzle out. It looked like rain earlier, but now, the pale moon in the sky is unobscured by any clouds.
Xie Lian eats the berries he found earlier, pleasantly surprised to realise that only some of them are poisonous, and feels himself growing sleepy in the warmth of the flames.
The next morning, there are five butterflies, and all of them keep flying in the direction of the cave.
Suddenly suspicious, Xie Lian pulls out his sword. He knows that any dark cave in the middle of a forest will surely hold either a monster, a demon, or a cannibal, and if this thing is strong enough to control butterflies, there’s no telling what else it might control. It’s Xie Lian’s duty to take care of it.
“Stay back,” he tells the butterflies, but of course they don’t listen, beholden as they are to their master. This turns out to be a good thing, because their silver wings are the only source of light, after Xie Lian’s torch was diminished by a random drop of water within the first five seconds.
Every now and then, he stops, listening for any noise that might indicate what expects him further down the road. There’s nothing, and so Xie Lian keeps going, his steps confident, ready for an attack that never comes.
He has no idea how long he’s walked, but it must be hours – and then, from the depths of the tunnel he’s just left behind him, there’s a sudden bright light. Xie Lian turns around, sword raised, only to see that the butterflies have multiplied once more. What used to be only a handful is now a flock, too many to count, a mass of silver that swarms around his head, bathing the tunnel in pale light.
“Are you protecting me, or leading me to my doom?” Xie Lian wonders aloud. Predictably, there is no answer. And because it doesn’t matter either way, Xie Lian keeps walking, all the way until he reaches a door.
He opens it. The moment he does, the tunnel at his back grows dark, and when he turns his head, there isn’t a single butterfly in sight.
At the other side of the door, there are city gates.
Two male ghosts stand guard outside. “Hold right there,” one says as Xie Lian approaches. “What’s your business in Ghost City?”
Xie Lian hesitates. He doesn’t want to spark gossip, but he also doesn’t want to lie.
He says, “I’ve come to offer my services.”
“What services are those?”
“I do all manner of things. Busking, shattering boulders on my chest, and…” Xie Lian trails off, but there’s no need to continue anyway: the guard has understood.
“Oh! In that case, you’re very welcome. Ghost City is always in need of a good busker.” He winks. Xie Lian doesn’t think he’s talking about busking.
“Want some advice?” the other guard asks conversationally.
“Advice?”
“Of course, Daozhang! For a newcomer such as yourself, it’s not easy to find the best places. There’s Purple Pixie, but that one’s a dump. There’s Open Purse-“
“More like Empty Purse,” the first guard jumps in, “they’ll rip you off like you’ve never seen-“
“And there’s The Magic Mouth. Used to be great, but hasn’t been the same since it changed owners. Oh, and of course-“
“The House of Unearthly Delights,” they both say at the same time.
“Ah?” Xie Lian asks politely.
“Of course, they don’t take just anyone,” the second guard says, looking pointedly at Xie Lian’s old robes. Xie Lian suspects this is code for, They’re not going to take you, specifically.
He bows, hoping to put an end to this conversation. “Thank you for your advice. Have a pleasant day, and please remember to recommend me to your friends.”
Navigating Ghost City without a guide is harder than he expected. The winding streets are bustling with ghosts, most of whom don’t take kindly to being bumped into. Xie Lian receives several threats and two propositions before he finds a food stall that only sells regular congee – only to realise that at some point, he’s been pick-pocketed.
He apologises to the stall owner and withdraws back into the crowd, wondering if he should check the trash bins for something edible, and suddenly finds himself in front of a multi-storey building from whose windows red lanterns can be seen. The sign out front introduces it as the HOUSE OF UNEARTHLY DELIGHTS.
Ah, Xie Lian thinks. Well. He had been looking for Paradise Manor, anyway. Since there is little chance of finding it on his own, he might as well ask for help.
A huge ghost with a goat’s head lets him in after patting him down and confiscating Xie Lian’s sword. Xie Lian goes straight to the reception, where a female ghost is currently busy writing in a huge book. She bears remarkable similarities to Ling Wen, if Ling Wen wore revealing underwear and nothing else.
She says, without looking up and in a monotone voice, “Welcome to the House of Unearthly Delights, for the right price we make dreams come true, comfortable beds, attentive workers, something about vibrators. How may we delight you today, Daozhang?”
“I was hoping you could help me out. I’m looking for your Lord. Hua Chengzhu.”
The receptionist doesn’t so much as blink as she rifles through her book. “Let’s see, I think we have two Crimson Rain-impersonators currently available. Male or female?”
“Oh! I’m very sorry, but I think you misunderstood. I want to meet the real Hua Cheng. Do you mind pointing me in the direction of Paradise Manor? I fear I’ve gotten lost.”
At last, the receptionist looks at him, eyes narrowed. “You’ll want to be careful with a sense of humour like that. Ghost City doesn’t take kindly to jokes about its master.”
It’s not a joke, Xie Lian thinks, but doesn’t bother saying it out loud. If she’s made up her mind, there’s no point in trying to change it.
He nods at the goat ghost on his way out, only for the goat ghost to say, “I couldn’t help overhear. You want to go see our Lord?”
“Yes. Do you know where he is?”
“I might do.” The ghost looks as shifty as his goat head will allow. “For a little something in return.”
“I’m afraid I have no money,” Xie Lian says. “But if you tell me, I will be sure to get appropriate compensation to you in the future. I can write you a check, if you like.”
The ghost smiles. It looks odd. “I was thinking more of an – unearthly delight.”
Xie Lian bows respectfully. “Please excuse this one for not offering any delights at the moment, unearthly or otherwise. But if you give me your address, I will surely-“
“Hua Chengzhu is good enough for you, but I’m not?”
Xie Lian’s smile is becoming more fixed as he bows again. “In that case, I must offer my apologies again. Please try not to move.” With that, Ruyoe shoots forward, trapping the ghost in a tight bind. Xie Lian pulls out his sword and lets it rest against the ghost’s throat, which is human but covered in soft grey fur. “If you could point me towards Paradise Manor, I would be much obliged.”
The ghost’s curses abruptly cut off as Ruyoe tightens. After a few seconds, it loosens, and Xie Lian gives the ghost a minute to breathe before he repeats his question. Finally, the ghost jerks his head in the direction Xie Lian just came from. “There. Follow that road all the way to its end. You can’t miss it.”
“Many thanks for your services, I will warmly recommend you to Crimson Rain. May your future hold nothing but fortunes.” Xie Lian raises his arm, and Ruyoe comes back to him, wrapping itself around his wrist. He leaves the goat ghost on the steps of the House of Unearthly Delights, still coughing.
Once he knows where he’s going, Paradise Manor is easy to find. Xie Lian expects to be questioned by the guards again, but this time, he’s let through without hesitation.
Unlike the last time he was here, no servant comes for him, once the guards open the gates. Xie Lian is left entering the manor on his own, hoping he will find Hua Cheng sooner rather than later.
He does. In an uncharacteristic fit of good luck, it turns out that Hua Cheng is behind the very first door he opens, inside a vast room lit by hundreds of candles. He is kneeling, Xie Lian notes, in front of an altar.
Feeling awkward, he’s about to withdraw, wanting to leave Hua Cheng praying in peace to whatever God he worships. Then Hua Cheng’s voice rings in his mind, clear as day.
This humble follower prays that Your Highness returns to me soon.
Xie Lian pauses, one hand on the doorknob. He knows Hua Cheng hasn’t spoken out loud. He also knows that he hasn’t shared the password to his private array.
He's just started turning around, suddenly needing to check which deity Hua Cheng is praying to, exactly, when Hua Cheng continues. This San Lang also prays for luck in love, and in bed.
His cheeks burning, Xie Lian clears his throat. “How long have you known I was here?”
Hua Cheng gets up in one graceful movement, smiling with mischief. “Since the second you entered the manor.”
“And how long have you – known?”
At this, Hua Cheng sinks to his knees again, much to Xie Lian’s alarm. “Since the second I saw you on that bridge.”
Hua Cheng’s head is bowed, every bit the picture of a humble worshipper. Xie Lian never did know how to make people stop kneeling. The best thing he can think of is kneeling too, and so he does. “Then you should know that praying to me won’t do much good.”
“I know no such thing,” Hua Cheng says. “Didn’t Gege return, just as I wished he would?”
“Ah, but that was- it doesn’t count,” Xie Lian protests. “You already I knew I was there.”
“Also,” Hua Cheng says, smoothly cutting through Xie Lian’s objections, “you heard what else I prayed for. Is Your Highness denying me those things?”
Xie Lian is worried that his blush will never disappear. “I don’t think San Lang needs luck in bed. Your skills are – quite sufficient.”
Hua Cheng’s laughter rings out across the room. “I’m glad Gege thinks so. What about luck in love, then?”
Swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat, Xie Lian says, “If you have a special someone, I’m sure San Lang has no need of luck in that area, either. But I’ll do my best to help you, if you wish.”
Would Hua Cheng even want him to? He’s said that he does, but people of Xie Lian’s newly-found occupation, imagined though it is, can’t be much valued as matchmakers.
Although Hua Cheng’s right eye is covered with a patch again, his left eye is wide. “If I’ve done something to offend Gege, this San Lang apologises.”
“Offend me!” Xie Lian urgently takes Hua Cheng’s hands, gripping them as tight as he dares. “You could never. Never.”
“Then His Highness merely doesn’t want? Of course. I understand.” Hua Cheng tries to pull back, but Xie Lian doesn’t let him.
“Want what?” Hua Cheng doesn’t reply, so Xie Lian brings their foreheads together, whispering against Hua Cheng’s lips. “San Lang, what don’t I want?”
“Me.”
“San Lang!” Xie Lian abruptly can’t bear this anymore. Maybe he should have been the one praying for luck in love, although which god would heed his call, he’d rather not know. “I always want you. All of you. I just thought-“ He stops. He’s no longer sure what, exactly, he thought. He only knows that he can’t put it into words.
“Thought what?”
“It’s too embarrassing to say out loud,” Xie Lian says. Instead of replying, Hua Cheng leans in to kiss him.
“Then don’t say it,” Hua Cheng says when they break apart. “We don’t have to talk about it for even a moment longer. Just know that this San Lang has always wanted you, too. All of you.”
This time, Xie Lian is the one to initiate the kiss. It only lasts a moment before he pulls away again. “That first night,” he says. “What did you say in that letter you left me? I had trouble interpreting your writing.”
And Hua Cheng says, “I thanked you for our night, apologised for my hasty departure, and promised to be back soon. I also left a donation, from a devout follower to his God. Didn’t you get it?”
Xie Lian smiles, feeling light as air. “No,” he says. “I got it all.”
*
Epilogue
It takes the Heavenly Officials about fifty years to notice Xie Lian’s absence. Considering His Highness’ previous eight hundred year-long banishment, it’s still very generous of them to have noticed at all, Pei Ming thinks while he goes to collect the Wind Master and Generals Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen.
Once they’ve all gathered once more in the Palace of Ming Guan, they talk about how maybe one of them should descend to the lesser realm and go check up on Xie Lian.
“Not me,” Mu Qing says immediately. “I’m very busy.”
“I’ll go,” Feng Xin says.
“Although I suppose,” Mu Qing says to no one in particular, “if pressed, I could maybe spare a little time. If I had to.”
“I’ll go too,” Shi Qingxuan says. She’s in her female form, and Pei Ming’s hands keep accidentally wandering. “I haven’t been back on Earth in ages. It’ll be fun!”
“Fine, I guess I have no choice, if no one else volunteers,” Mu Qing says.
“Excellent! A brave band of warriors – and a brave and sexy lady warrior-“
“I’m fairly sure warrior is gender-neutral,” Mu Qing says.
“-embark on their quest to see how His Highness is doing! Maybe after we’re done with that, we can have an orgy or something. General Nan Yang, how is your female form? Is it striking?”
“It’s about to strike you in the face, if you touch me again,” Feng Xin snaps.
Injured, Pei Ming withdraws his hand, and goes down first, just to show his bravery.
When they arrive at Puqi Shrine, they all stop, frowning at the map Ling Wen provided them with. “Wasn’t it supposed to be here?” Feng Xin says. “I can’t see it.”
“Must be behind that huge temple,” Pei Ming decides. “It’s obscuring our view.”
“I didn’t know Puqi Village served two gods now,” Shi Qingxuan says in surprise.
Mu Qing, who has read the temple’s inscription, says nothing.
It turns out they needn’t go look for Xie Lian, because he finds them first. He exits the temple through a side door, carrying a very large potted plant. He doesn’t seem very happy to see them.
“Oh, it’s you,” he says.
“It’s us,” Pei Ming agrees proudly.
“You haven’t been to Heaven in a while,” Mu Qing says. “Grown bored of it?”
“Can I offer you some refreshments?” Xie Lian asks, not answering the question. “And can I offer them to you someplace else? I heard there is a very nice temple of the Wind Master just ten miles from here.”
Pei Ming has only been half-listening, too busy taking stock of His Highness’ appearance. He’s dressed in clean and undeniably expensive robes that clash with the battered bamboo hat he’s carrying on his back. His hair looks very shiny, and his skin is emitting a healthy glow.
Pei Ming recognises the signs.
“Your Highness,” he says chidingly, “I thought I told you to use protection!”
Xie Lian smiles blankly at him. “Ah?”
“Gege,” someone says from the temple’s main entrance, “you didn’t tell me we had guests.”
Approaching them is a tall man in maple red clothing, one single butterfly trailing him. He comes to stand behind Xie Lian, wrapping his arms around him from behind as he looks coldly at the guests in question.
“Crimson Rain,” Feng Xin bellows. “How dare you!”
Xie Lian appears to be stepping very heavily on Hua Cheng’s foot. “It’s not what you think,” he says. “It’s-“
“And you! Have you no shame? How long has this been going on?”
“Fifty years,” Hua Cheng answers promptly, smiling unpleasantly at them.
Pei Ming raises his hand in Xie Lian’s direction. This time, he’s prepared, and so doesn’t stumble from Xie Lian’s blow. “You locked that down, did you? Well done! Being a single father is a hardship.”
“Ah?” Xie Lian repeats.
“Gege, don’t listen,” Hua Cheng says. “Your ears must be hurting from so much nonsense. I’ll take their tongues if you want.”
“I don’t understand,” Shi Qingxuan says, looking between them with the kind of confused, yet attractive look that Pei Ming likes in a woman. He inches closer. “We helped you out! We gave you all that trash. We collected it specially for you!”
It takes Xie Lian a moment to remember an event that’s half a century in the past. “You did? Ah, yes. You did. That was very – yes.”
Pei Ming attempts to clap Hua Cheng’s shoulder in a manly and companionable way, only for Hua Cheng to look at his hand like he wants to rip it off. That is often how people look at Pei Ming’s hands on their bodies, so Pei Ming isn’t overly worried. He says, “Crimson Rain, I hope you signed a prenup.”
“He should sign a prenup?” Feng Xin exclaims. “If anyone should, it’s His Highness!”
Shi Qingxuan asks, “What’s a prenup? Is it cute?”
“I don’t know,” Pei Ming says after some hesitation. “But my lawyer told me to get one.”
“What’s a lawyer?” Shi Qingxuan asks.
Pei Ming deflates, and doesn’t reply.
They’ve long moved on from prenups to argue about whether Xie Lian deserves better, and whether Hua Cheng sometimes dons a female form in bed and if that would be appealing, and whether there is, maybe, something they should have done about Xie Lian’s continued position as a sex worker, when suddenly, they realise that Hua Cheng and Xie Lian have disappeared.
“They must’ve gone back into that temple,” Feng Xin says, already striding forward.
“I bet they’re in Ghost City,” Pei Ming says, drawing up a Distance-Shortening Array for him and the Wind Master. “I heard they have the most spectacular brothels there. General Xuan Zhen, are you coming?”
Mu Qing looks in the direction of Puqi Village that, not so long ago, two silhouettes – one white, one red – have walked towards, hand in hand.
He opens his mouth, and reconsiders.
He follows Pei Ming through the portal instead. And many miles away by now, Xie Lian and Hua Cheng continue on their path, undisturbed.
THE END