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Hua Cheng was an ocean of vinegar.
Never in his life had he thought he’d have to be in this situation: standing by, black nails digging into palms, sharp teeth holding his own tongue—unable to do anything but burn with jealousy while Xie Lian kissed someone else right in front of him.
The baby giggled and cooed as Xie Lian laid a peck on its forehead. “There, all done.”
“Thank you, daozhang!” the mother cried out, as Xie Lian handed back the swaddled child. “How long does it last?”
“The blessing?” Xie Lian smiled. “Ah, there’s really no time limit. As long as he grows up being kind to others and leaving offerings for the Crown Prince, it should last as long as necessary—”
“Daozhang!” A hopeful father waved, shuffling over with a toddler attached to his legs. “Daozhang, are you giving out blessings again today? Can I have one for my Xiao Bai?”
“No,” Hua Cheng said, taking Xie Lian by the sleeve. “He’s done. Let’s go, gege.”
But Xie Lian had already crouched down to pet the child’s head. “Go where? Didn’t we just get here? I’ll do just one more, one more!”
“Gege, gege,” Hua Cheng complained, pulling the sleeve up harder. “Come on, we’re going to miss the fireworks.”
“We have time, it’s fine.” Xie Lian smiled at the child. “Xiao Bai, is that right?”
Hua Cheng relented, of course—whatever His Highness wanted—but he crossed his arms and directed a sour glare at the child.
Catching sight of this, Xiao Bai cowered; but Xie Lian, blissfully unaware, only laughed. “Don’t be afraid.”
“C’mon!” the father untangled the child from his legs. “Everyone knows Xie-daozhang gives the best blessings around, a true favorite of the heavens!”
The child nodded, coaxed by the lofty praise and Xie Lian’s gentle looks, so Xie Lian quickly put a hand on his head. As Hua Cheng watched, his look sweetened; Xie Lian was always so earnest, whispering a few words of blessing before fishing a string out of his pocket and tying it around the child’s wrist. With that done, he kissed the child’s forehead before straightening again.
The child stared up, eyes glowing, and shoved a pudgy hand into his mouth. Hua Cheng watched with an aching heart.
Xie Lian had never given a blessing like that to Hua Cheng.
🌠
Even after he’d managed to lead Xie Lian away from a gathering crowd of supplicants, one silver-clad arm firmly clenched around His Highness’ waist, Hua Cheng was still sore.
Xie Lian blessed everything that was brought to him—children, pets, beads, houses, even carts. Why hadn’t he whispered even one little prayer over the smallest silver chain dangling from Hua Cheng’s belt?
Maybe the blessings were a tactic, Hua Cheng reasoned. Someone who had received a favor would be more likely to visit one of Xie Lian’s shrines to leave offerings; a few empty words and a useless token here and there could provide a steady stream of worshipers. However, that didn’t seem like Xie Lian’s style.
Seeing no other option, Hua Cheng tugged Xie Lian’s waist closer as they walked through the market. “I have a question.”
Xie Lian stumbled and coughed, looking like he didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “There’s no need to grip so hard, it’s not like I’m going anywhere?”
Hua Cheng reluctantly loosened his grip. “Sorry. I was only wondering why gege gives so many blessings. Answering prayers is already hard work; why scatter blessings randomly to anyone who asks? It’s not like the little kid just now really needed it.”
At that, Xie Lian gave a sheepish smile. “No reason, really. I’ve just always thought, if I can spare some good wishes to someone before something bad happens to them, they won’t show up in such a terrible state at my temple later.”
“Hm,” Hua Cheng said. That made sense.
“But more importantly, I feel like it leaves a bit of love from me that someone can always carry with them,” Xie Lian went on shyly. “Maybe it’s silly.”
Hua Cheng was an ocean of vinegar beneath a sky salted with stars—all sour, all bitter, all desperate yearning. He opened his mouth to respond, when—
“Daozhang, daozhang! I’m glad to see you again!” A young girl ran up, holding a string of beads aloft. “Can you bless these for me?”
Xie Lian’s perfect waist slipped out of Hua Cheng’s grasp, leaving his arm holding nothing. “Ah, these are nice. Are they lotus seeds?”
“En!”
Hua Cheng stood by helplessly as Xie Lian channeled his pure, sweet love into the useless beads.
Didn’t Xie Lian know how much Hua Cheng would treasure even a simple gesture like this?
🌠
Hua Cheng and Xie Lian sat together on a dock, watching the fireworks. Better stated, Xie Lian was watching the fireworks; Hua Cheng was watching Xie Lian.
“Gege?” Hua Cheng prodded.
Xie Lian was nestled into his shoulder, his voice tired but satisfied. “Hm?”
Hua Cheng silently broke a silver butterfly off a tassel on his sleeve and held it out. “This butterfly fell off my clothes. I feel that it’s a bad omen. Won’t you bless it for good luck?”
Lowering his gaze sleepily to watch the reflection of the fireworks in the river, Xie Lian squeezed Hua Cheng’s hand. “You always have good luck. If anything, my blessing would decrease it.”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
Xie Lian laughed quietly. “I would.”
“Then, can you bless it for something else? What about good calligraphy skills? You always say I need help with that.”
“You’ll gain that through diligent practice,” Xie Lian murmured sleepily. “Not blessings.”
“Then what about—gege? Gege?”
Xie Lian had fallen asleep, breathing softly against Hua Cheng’s chest.
Folding Xie Lian into his arms, Hua Cheng fussed over his hair, tucking it out of the way of his face. Then, he settled down to think.
Perhaps Xie Lian didn’t think his blessing was good enough to give to him. In that case, Hua Cheng would have to take matters into his own hands.
🌠
Banyue stood at the entrance of Puqi shrine, holding her broom awkwardly. “I don’t get it. Why can’t you just ask him for one?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Hua Cheng replied. “A plan like this is easier.”
“It seems a lot harder…”
Pei Xiu, who’d been fixing the table inside, dusted off his hands and stood up. “You should ask someone else. We’re busy.”
“No one else can do it,” Hua Cheng said stubbornly. “In order to be convincing, I need someone small and innocent-looking doing the job.”
This baffled Banyue even more. “I’m not innocent at all…”
But Pei Xiu seemed to hesitate, leaning against a wall. He stuck his hands in his sleeve pockets. “Maybe it’s fine to try.”
“You just want to see me doing something stupid,” Banyue lamented.
Hua Cheng tapped his foot impatiently. “I can give you something in return.”
“Oh.” Banyue put aside her broom. “Like what?”
Hua Cheng reached into his pocket and pulled out a wooden snake, made of sections held together by twine.
Banyue stared. “What is it?”
Turning the snake upside down, Hua Cheng held it by the tail, letting the wooden piece at the top drop down. It then appeared to noisily flip-flop all the way back to the head: flap-flap-flap-flap-flap…a clever and convincing magic trick.
Banyue watched, her brow furrowed, then took the toy from Hua Cheng. She turned it upside down and shook it. “…I can’t get it to work…”
Pei Xiu straightened off the wall and walked over. “You’re holding it the wrong way.”
They fiddled over it for a bit, trying to figure it out. Finally, Pei Xiu took it by the neck and turned it over again, setting off the cascade as they stared:
Flap-flap-flap-flap-flap …
Hua Cheng crossed his arms. “So? Are you going to help?”
🌠
Banyue shuffled through the ghost city market, her arms trembling from exertion as she lugged a very large red cat through the crowd.
The cat sat impassive in her arms, doing nothing to help. Slowly, its bottom half slipped down from Banyue’s arms, hanging low; she struggled to hold on as it sagged like a stocking. “Ugh…”
Seeing a little girl ghost grappling with the massive creature, the citizens of ghost city stopped and stared, commenting loudly:
“What the FUCK is that? Is that a fuckin’ CAT?”
“That’s a fox if I’ve ever seen one.”
“Lil’ lady, y’need help?”
“No,” Banyue choked out, wrapping her arms around the creature’s chest. Its legs dragged along the ground. “Just…let me through…”
A ghostly child watching them pass suddenly reached out and screeched. “Kitty!”
The cat finally seemed to come to life, going spiky with raised hair and giving a sharp hiss. Its eyes flashed red.
There was a moment of dead silence. Then—
“AAAAAAAAAAA!! FUCK!!”
“NOOOO, WE’RE SO SORRY!”
“WE DIDN’T MEAN IT!”
In a cacophony of screaming and begging, the ghosts all fled the street, leaving Banyue in the middle. There was only other person left alone in the market.
“Huh? Where’s everyone going?” Xie Lian peered into a now-deserted stall with a frown. “I wasn’t done haggling—Banyue?!”
He’d turned to see the unfortunate ghost trudging down the street. “General Hua,” Banyue panted, trying to keep hold of the slippery animal in her arms. “I found…a cat…”
“You—?”
“It’s my new pet…can you…please…”
Gritting her teeth, she steadied her wobbly legs and held the vacant-eyed cat aloft.
“Bless it for me?”
Xie Lian was bewildered. “Banyue, is this really a cat? Why is it so—”
“Quick,” Banyue said flatly. “If you don’t bless it, it might die.”
“Mrrowww,” the cat agreed.
Still confused, Xie Lian took it into his arms and almost immediately stumbled. “What’s with this weight? It’s like—” Suddenly, his eyes widened a fraction. “Wait. Something’s wrong.”
Banyue shook her head. “It’s a little ugly, but—”
“Everybody, stand back!” Xie Lian put two fingers together and held them up, gathering energy. “This form is only a disguise. This cat is an ancient spirit full of resentment, a dangerous spirit. With a feeling like this, it must be a hungry ghost. Banyue, I’ll dissolve the illusion; get ready, I might need your help!”
“…wait, General Hua, it’s actually—”
Pop!
Xie Lian blinked. His arms were suddenly full of a very hungry ghost indeed.
“Gege,” Hua Cheng pleaded, giving him a woeful look. “Can I have a blessing?”
🌠
Xie Lian was dragging his feet.
He hadn’t quite said yes; he’d said “I can try, San Lang, but—” and then Hua Cheng was pulling him along.
By now, Hua Cheng knew that something was definitely wrong; with Xie Lian so reluctant, how could there not be a reason? But something difficult like this could only be revealed with a delicate touch, and so Hua Cheng said nothing, only led him on to Qiandeng temple. “Let’s do it in private.”
Xie Lian gave a bewildered laugh. “It’s really so important to you?”
“It is.” Hua Cheng ushered him in, then walked to the low table inside. “Gege, I’ve been watching you give blessings to everyone; naturally, I’d want one for myself. Don’t worry about the details, it doesn’t have to be anything big or important. Just do it how you would for anyone else.”
“En, en,” Xie Lian said absentmindedly. One hand had crept up to the ring around his neck.
Hua Cheng watched him carefully. “Is something wrong?”
“No no no, nothing!” Xie Lian said quickly, slipping the ring back into his robes. He hurried over and sat by the table. “It’s only that it’s best to do it fast, so we’re on time for dinner. Let’s get started.”
Nothing yet, then. It was fine; Hua Cheng would always be patient. He settled onto his knees. “I’m ready.”
At the table, they were lit by dim candlelight. Xie Lian hesitated in the flickering shadows.
Then, he reached forward, taking Hua Cheng’s face in his hands. His fingers trembled.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian said slowly. “May you always be—”
His breath caught.
Hua Cheng opened his eye, waiting.
With a shaky breath, Xie Lian continued. “May you always be in good health, and—”
He pressed his lips shut, but he could only do so much. In the next moment, he broke.
“I’m sorry,” Xie Lian said, his voice quivering. “I’m sorry, I lied. There’s a reason I haven’t done this yet.”
A small sigh of relief. “I know.”
“You—?”
“With gege wearing such a sad expression, how could I not know?”
Xie Lian smiled faintly. “I really can’t hide anything from you, can I?”
“En, you can’t. So tell me.”
“I just…” Xie Lian rubbed his forehead. “It’s not that I can’t wish for something for you, it’s that I’m selfish. When I say that I hope you’ll be well, I feel like I’m saying goodbye forever; words like stay healthy and have good luck, they’re spoken when someone is doomed to go through dangerous trials. A blessing is what I give when I can’t do anything else to help.”
Hua Cheng spoke gently. “It’s okay. Of course you don’t have to do it, then. It was only a little thing.”
“That’s not it,” Xie Lian mumbled. “It’s not that I can’t give it to you, it’s the opposite. In fact, I already...”
Sniffling, he wiped off his face.
“Actually, it’s easiest just to show you.”
Putting a hand behind Hua Cheng’s neck, he pressed their foreheads together.
🌠
Dawn bled into night in the yard behind Puqi shrine.
There was an old fishing net tied sturdy between two trees, a makeshift hammock. The sea-worn ropes still carried a faint scent of brine. In the humid night, to lie in it was to float in a misty ocean.
Lost in his own type of ocean, Xie Lian rested in the net and gazed up at the stars.
There was nobody tucked beside him in the hammock. As it creaked and swayed, however, the ring nestled on Xie Lian’s chest gleamed in the moonlight.
“San Lang, look.” Xie Lian suddenly pointed up at the sky. “It’s the North Star. We followed it to the kingdom of Banyue, remember?”
He pointed up for a few more moments, as though making sure that the little ring had seen, before slowly letting his hand down again.
“It’s lucky,” he added softly. “It has to be.”
A wave of cricket song swelled and washed over him, as the hammock rocked in the breeze. Hearing that primordial melody, Xie Lian ached to join in; but unlike the insects, he knew he had no one to call out to. He could walk the world until his soles were dark with the dirt of a thousand different lands, but he still wouldn’t find who he was looking for. Hua Cheng had gone somewhere beyond his reach.
So instead, Xie Lian stroked his ring of ashes gingerly. Then, he raised it to his lips.
“I can’t help you come back,” he whispered into it. “But if you’re lonely, then take me with you to the stars instead.”
He kissed it, sealing in the blessing, then placed it back down so it could keep watching the night sky.
For the first time in decades, a weathered fishing net tasted one more drop of saltwater.
🌠
When Hua Cheng moved his forehead away, he blinked. Xie Lian’s tears had dripped onto his cheeks.
“Sorry,” Xie Lian mumbled, raising his sleeve to wipe Hua Cheng’s face. “You’re here with me, and I’m still thinking about those times. It’s silly.”
“Your Highness,” Hua Cheng said softly.
Xie Lian adjusted his sleeves, trying to keep himself steady. “I just feel that I’m going to wake up in that net alone again, and it’ll be daytime, and I won’t even have the star anymore—”
“Your Highness,” Hua Cheng insisted. He reached up and took one of Xie Lian’s trembling hands, folding it between his own, and his eye was bright with meaning. “Don’t worry anymore.”
“Ah, it’s know, it’s fine.” Xie Lian wiped a hand across his eyes. “I started the blessing, so I’ll finish it—”
“I’ll gladly take it, but I’ll speak first,” Hua Cheng said softly. “I’m happy you made that wish; it means that you were looking forward to my return. Hope isn’t just an ugly feeling made to be broken. A blessing isn’t a useless sentiment born in desperation. Every time you make a blessing, I’m happy. It means gege feels sure enough to wish for things again.“
At that, Xie Lian couldn’t help but smile weakly. “Wanting me to open my heart like that, don’t you seem too much like a Venerable of Empty Words?”
Hua Cheng’s expression was half innocence, half mischief. “Are you afraid?”
A bit shy, Xie Lian nodded. “…en.”
“Then give me a new blessing. This time, make it something you really want. I’ll show you that your hunger is something meant to be satisfied.”
And so, wiping stray tears away, Xie Lian nodded.
Incense was set out, candles were lit, and Hua Cheng was knelt down to look like a polite young supplicant. Patiently, he folded his hands on his lap and waited, until a pair of delicate hands enfolded his face.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian whispered. “Never leave me. Always stay safe by my side.”
With that, he bent down, tying a little yarn bracelet around Hua Cheng’s wrist. Then, he reached back up and held his face again.
Hua Cheng stilled with anticipation, but he wouldn’t have to wait long. A pair of delicate lips pressed a kiss to his forehead, sealing the blessing into him.
Slowly, Hua Cheng opened his eyes. He found Xie Lian gazing at him fondly, a hearty blush spread across his face.
In the end, there was no need for a such a ritual, he thought. Being consecrated by his god with such a sweet and loving gaze was enough.
“Gege,” said Hua Cheng. “Can I give you a blessing, too?”
“Oh?” Xie Lian blinked, snapping out of his haze, then seemed embarrassed. “Of—of course. What is it?”
Hua Cheng took his flustered face, pressing a kiss to warm lips. Then, with a wide smile, he leaned forward to whisper something in his ear.
Xie Lian listened earnestly at first. After a moment, however, he clenched his hands into his robes and turned three shades of red. “That’s not a blessing, that’s just ah—!”
Hua Cheng had swept him into his arms, standing cheerfully. “Of course it is,” he said. “In fact, I think it’s about to come true. Let’s go, gege. You have many more blessings to give me.”
Beet-red, Xie Lian glanced up at him, then looked down to fiddle with the silver torque around his neck. Lifting a silver butterfly, he pressed a kiss to it. “You mean on one of these, right? Like you asked for before?”
“No,” Hua Cheng said brightly, starting to walk. “Not there.”
Pulling a fold of red robes from Hua Cheng’s chest, Xie Lian huddled close and hid his face. At that, Hua Cheng laughed.
Tomorrow, Xie Lian could go on giving blessings to random people. Today, the hungry ghost would keep them all to himself.
🌠
That night, in a salty old net strung between two trees, a god and a ghost curled together to watch the stars.
