Chapter Text
The pain had suddenly disappeared but there was no relief. When he looked to see where the sword had gone he found it in the hands of the nameless ghost. As the spirits swarmed the ghost, Xie Lian began to panic. He struggled forward but was still in too much pain, suffering the effects of the lingering resentment. He can imagine how the masked ghost felt, he had just been suffering the same.
Still, as the ghost tensed from the torment he looked over to the struggling prince. It was as if he was trying to comfort him but the words that left the his mouth only tormented the prince more.
“Don’t cry for me my beloved.”
Xie Lian was frozen, unable to help but unwilling to look away. The screams of pain from the ghost would haunt the prince for years to come. Soon it ended and the mask that graced the ghosts face dropped to the floor.
His beloved? Did Wu Ming see the face of his beloved before he died? Did he mistake Xie Lian for the one he loved or…?
The prince didn’t have long to ponder this before he was interrupted by the white clad ghost behind him.
——
Then he was falling again.
Right out of the sky, into the same crater, in the same small town. He fell. This time he did not wait for someone to help as the crowd gathered, instead he helped himself.
“Ah, how embarrassing it is to fall for the same town twice.”
Most dispersed from the crowd at seeing the familiar face but some lingered. One such person was the man who had wished to give him water. When the man approached it was with a white mask in hand.
The man had seen everything, he had been heart broken when the god of misfortune was whisked into a fight before he could retrieve the last token of his devoted. Wanting to make sure it wouldn’t be damaged and that the young ghost would be properly remembered and hopefully returned to his beloved god, the man retrieved the mask. He was elated to see the god again so soon and rushed over to return the token.
When Xie Lian saw the mask he didn’t know if he should laugh or cry from his grief and gratitude. He quietly thanked the man and took the mask from him, but the moment he touched it he felt them. The clinging remains of his loyal wrath ghost, his Wu Ming.
As he looked at the mask he thought back to the ghost's last words, ‘don’t cry for me my beloved. Xie Lian hadn’t realized at first that he was crying.
“Did you know?” The older man spoke suddenly.
“Know what?”
“About the boy’s feelings, he seemed like such a genuine young man but you looked so surprised.”
Xie Lian thought for a moment, “He mentioned a beloved but I never asked who it was…” the prince looked at the mask. As he felt the lingering spirit he couldn’t help but ask, “Was your beloved really me the whole time?”
He gasped as he felt something brush his cheek, lifting his own hand as if to hold another against his face. Wishing it would stay yet unable to stop it from disappearing between his fingers.
The tears began again.
“Are there any nearby buildings that are abandoned, I won’t stay in town. I wouldn’t want to bring you all any misfortune. I just need somewhere to stay.” He lowered his hand and looked up at the man, “I need to wait here for him.”
Despite the odd nature of his request the man showed nothing but understanding.
After he pointed him in the right direction Xie Lian went off, mask in hand, to build his residence while he waited.
And wait he did…
——
It was after a month of waiting that the dreams started, memories really.
He slept with the mask by his side every night and carried it with him all through the day. He could feel how his ghost clung to this world and fought so hard.
At night when he slept he saw the memories of his wrath ghost. Memories of him. The times they met, the times he visited his temples, even the times where he thought about the god to get him by.
Many memories were not any less unpleasant from another perspective. Some made him weep to see what the young boy had endured. Others left him embarrassed.
Did I really look so depraved?
Regardless of anything else, he felt loved.
He felt seen.
——
6 months, the memories changed.
While he still received looks into his ghosts’ life, there was now company. No one could be seen but they spoke together about what they saw.
It was cute to hear how embarrassed his ghost could be but far more mortifying to have a witness to his own embarrassment.
——
1 year, that’s when mount Tonglu opened.
His ghost heard the call, they both knew he needed to go. It still hurt when the dreams stopped.
——
5 days, new dreams started.
There he was, no mask. His dear Wu Ming. At first he could only see him and it hurt. It hurt when he saw his precious ghost rip his own eye out, just to protect the mortals, because he knew that’s what his god would do.
That’s when it changed, after ascending and rejecting godhood Wu Ming was able to talk to him again.
It didn’t last long enough before he entered the kiln and they could no longer speak or see each other.
——
7 years, the night the kiln erupted.
Xie Lian was asleep but he heard his ghost…
Wait for me.
So he waited, as he did the stories began. The stories of the infamous Hua Cheng, the dreaded Crimson Rain Sought Flower.
The god couldn’t stop the blush when his mind supplied the HE was in fact the flower. Even if no one else knew it.
The God Killer and scourge of the heavens was born, Xie Lian had a sneaking suspicion that he had encountered the fallen gods before. Then there was Ghost City, apparently the ghost king made it no secret that he was building the perfect home for his beloved. The prince couldn’t wait to share it.
——
1 year, he stood outside his residence staring at the mask in hand.
Then he heard him…
“Oh dear, it seems this Gege has something of mine.”
The prince looked up and laughed, a man stood before him dressed in red with silver jewelry. An eyepatch covered his right eye and a scimitar hung at his waist.
“Ah, what an awkward predicament we find ourselves in. You see, I've had this mask for almost 9 years.” Xie Lian couldn’t stop the smirk on his face, “but if the dreaded Crimson Rain Sought Flower demands it then surely I must return it.” He reached out both hands, the mask held in his right.
His ghost came forward and gripped the unoccupied hand, taking the mask from the other. He barely spared it a glance before leaning in.
“I’d prefer if this Gege called me San Lang.”