Work Text:
The Color of Relaxation
"San Lang?"
"Gege?"
"Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise."
They were in the ox cart again, chiu-tian colors surrounding them, wheels creaking as they moved forward. Earlier, Hua Cheng insisted on taking the trip.
Xie Lian leaned back, taking in the azure blue of the sky, and the leaves on the trees in the middle of their color change. The season had a unique scent to it, and it relaxed him.
The summer had been stressful, dealing with assignments The Court of Heaven sent him to resolve.
Xie Lien dozed, trusting his husband would wake him when they arrived.
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Chiu-tian = Mandarin for "autumn"/"fall".
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Cloaked
The world outside was white. It turned cold a few days earlier, seeping into the ground. The atmospheric precipitation was snow instead of rain.
Xie Lian stood outside, allowing the snowflakes to gather in his hair and on his clothes. The whisper of cold was oddly comforting.
"Gege will be injured by the wind if he stays outside." The familiar voice spoke behind him.
A shrug. "I'm fine, San Lang."
The cloak draping itself around him was hooded, heavy, silk, fur-lined, scarlet and crimson brocade.
"I'd prefer the wind not injure you."
Xie Lian turned, smiling. "Thank you, San Lang."
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Note: the idiom "being injured by the wind" translates from the Chinese expression "to catch a cold"
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Sprung
He was out looking for broken things again, as was his wont.
Scrap collecting was slower in the colder months of the year, though he still managed it.
A rounded object with one flat side balanced on edge. When he picked it up, he noticed it was a clock, one with a broken spring. He could tell without opening the casing.
The spring was wound too tightly and broken.
He'd earlier found a random spring which felt to be the right size.
Tucking it in the bag slung crossbody, he decided to return home. PuChi Shrine and his tools awaited.
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Least Favorite
The sun beat down mercilessly.
He was grateful for the red umbrella blocking some of the effects.
It wasn't as bad as when he and Xie Lian were out in the desert, sent on a mission from Heaven's Court, the bunch of lazy do-nothings.
Counting his blessings - just the thought of the phrase amused him - at least he wasn't required to wear the armor from his lives as a soldier.
Metal conducted heat, and armor was largely metal.
Sighing, he decided he'd tortured himself enough.
Opening the portal for Paradise Manor, he was gone between one breath and the next.
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