Work Text:
It spends its time watching.
From afar, from up close, through clones, in-person. It’s always watching.
It doesn’t mean to. It rather it didn’t. It became a habit after so long, simply existing to watch the lives (and unlives) of everyone and thing around it. It became its job, watching the heavens for a certain god, gathering information on another. Despite being a devastation, its presence was so small, hardly noticeable to anyone who wasn’t actively searching for it. It faded into the background, blended into the walls. Became the dark shadows that lurked in the corners of every room.
Watching.
Waiting.
Cool, gentle hands coaxed it back into a physical form, flooding its senses with bright crimson. Their energies intertwined, fingers laced together with the invisible threads that bound them. The only other existence equal to it, the only other being that understood it. It wanted to cling to those threads, to ensure they never severed, that they would forever have each other.
It couldn’t bring itself to be so selfish.
It knew its place. A substitute. As full of love that the other calamity was, the core of his own existence, none of that was meant for it. Even as he held it, regarded it like a precious stone, painting it when he believed it wasn’t paying attention after all the reprimands it gave him for wasting paper on it — it was all temporary. Its existence was temporary, one that existed on borrowed time. There was a clear resolution to why it remained; eventually it would dissipate, reenter the cycle of reincarnation, and be forgotten.
It could sense that the borrowed time it had was nearing the end, the sands of the glass were running out, as it left the side of the other calamity, unhearing of his sleepy protests. Part of it felt fear — perhaps the last human remnant that remained within it — the prospect of disappearing was frightening, and a soul like its own had fought until its body could move no more to live. Yet exhaustion had won in the end, giving into the fatigue that wore down to its very bones. It had been so tired, tired of the misfortune, injustice and fighting. If only it had been allowed to rest, instead of lingering for the question of why that god held interest in its death.
It wondered if the other calamity would mourn it once it finally dissipated, if there was even the smallest chance his heart held room for it. He was the one that held its ashes, that held the choice of being rid of it once it became too much to handle, when he got tired of it clinging to him through its tumultuous emotions. It gave them to him long ago, under the pretence of accountability to repay its debt, but neither of them believed that was the truth. The other never called it out on the blatant lie, nor did he ever address the actual meaning behind the gift.
It doesn’t know where he keeps them, only that they’re somewhere within the ever-changing labyrinth of Paradise Manor. It’s never bothered to try finding them; it trusted the other calamity with them better than itself.
The tolling of the bell in heaven announcing a new ascension, announced the beginning of the end. With every toll, every violent tremor that knocked the bell down and collapsed palaces in their wake, it saw another thread that bound them falling away.
( The crown prince was even more striking in person. It knew his face well, the only company it had in those 12 long years it spent in the kiln. There came days where it knew his face better than its own, when it felt so muddled between the other souls it consumed, his gentle smile remaining the only constant. Only after it became acquainted with Hua Cheng did it learn of a name to put with that face. )
There was no need for it to watch anymore. The strings fell away one by one. All that it had left was the blurry purpose that kept it lingering, vengeance for the love taken from it too soon. Yet it still watched, a painful longing pulling at it so desperately that it couldn’t turn its eyes away.
It ached, seeing how brightly they shone together, chasing away the darkness around them. How lovestruck the other calamity was in the presence of his god, nervous and careful with his every step and action, as if he was scared of accidentally scaring away the prince who regarded him with the very same lovestruck expression.
Never again would that soft gaze be turned on it. Never again would it feel those secure arms wrapped around its waist, holding it against that firm chest that granted it the security to fall apart. Never again would it be able to run its fingers through that unruly hair, with his head cradled on its lap like a satisfied cat.
( As extravagant as Paradise Manor was, Hua Cheng always struggled to let himself be pampered. They both had — both of them knew the taste of being lower than dirt, indulging always brought forth a nagging guilt. It had taken decades to break down those walls, to allow themselves that vulnerability. )
There was a sick satisfaction it felt when he beat it for appearance’s sake after the earth master somehow escaped. He was still willing to help it, even with an annoyed scowl on his face that it had let its problems end up on his doorstep. It covered up the bitter taste that Ming Yi, having for some reason betrayed it after all these centuries, rambling like a madman, forcing its hand, left in its mouth. That small spark of joy didn’t help much, when the darkness closed in around it, chained down in the dungeon, allowing old memories to resurface and suffocate it in panic until exhaustion pulled it under, leaving it feeling as though it was reliving its worst moments and death over and over.
( It didn’t see the way his gaze lingered on it as it was ‘rescued’ from the burning manor, not feigning the state of unconsciousness it was in. Even if it had, it would believe sooner that the sad look was meant for his god. )
As the last grains of sand fell, rage ignited its soul. It didn’t want the prince involved, it tried in all its power to push him away, but the man was a perfect match for Crimson Rain: stubborn as a fucking mule. It was sure it deserved the ire of the other calamity, having his god come as close to danger as he had. It was sure that that snapped the last thread of affection between them - it could almost see the last sparkle blink out. Not that it mattered now.
( It tried to not think about the lengths Hua Cheng went to help it get its vengeance, lying to his god’s face to keep it concealed. It was sure it was because he wanted to get the prince away faster, but even he was no match for that stubbornness. )
It shouldn’t have mattered.
The fire of its rage burned out, leaving it with nothing but an eviscerated corpse and an overwhelmingly hollow feeling. It had gotten its vengeance, it had learned the truth of its fate, it held the head of the man responsible. Now nothing remained. All ties that bound it to the world were gone, it had fulfilled its purpose.
There was nothing left.
And yet it remained. Even as it disappeared from heaven, watching the growing panic of just how many officials were actually Black Water’s clones, even as it slept through Tong’lu’s calling, even as heaven came crashing down on its doorstep, it remained. Watching silently as the pair before it had only eyes for each other, their happiness so radiant even with the chaos around them.
There was nothing it could do but watch. Although it was not there, it didn’t need to be to feel the horrible void that opened up the moment Crimson Rain Sought Flower dissipated. It took all its power to not collapse as a soul-wrenching grief flooded its being. Even when they were apart, the other calamity’s presence was always with it, a faint pull in the energies that surrounded them, linking them together in the sheer power that molded them both. Suddenly being without it felt like half its soul had been torn away.
It swallowed the pain, reaching out for the faintest glimmer of other calamity, finding relief in the dim spark it found. He wasn’t gone, hanging on by the smallest thread. He would be back, he had done this before. He just needed time.
And so it waited.
And so it watched.
It watched over his god in the other calamity’s absence, in the darkness that crept back into the dilapidated shrine he called home. It watched him worry the ring of ashes between his fingers when he got lost in thought, gazing into the distance as if hoping to see a figure in red approach over the hill.
( Even when twisted in grief, his face was still ethereal. )
It wanted to reach out, to offer support, but a monster like it did not bring such comforts. It doubted the prince would want to see it, not with how their last meeting ended. And so it watched, leaving offerings of edible food when he was away, tidying up the space and reinforcing the shoddy structure. It kept its distance, afraid to come any closer — as much as it had faded without Hua Cheng by his side, his radiance was still enough to burn.
Even before it had met Hua Cheng and learned of its true identity, it felt a strange devotion to the figure in the kiln. At the time, it had taken it to be a depiction of the mountain itself, the personification of Mt. Tong’lu. It was only logical to believe there was some deity behind the power the mountain held, and although He Sheng was not a religious man in life, what arose from his ashes felt it was only right to offer worship. The gargantuan statue offered a calm respite amongst the bloodshed and agony, when it was allowed rest in the palm of its massive hand. The scholar within it was always curious to find out more of the figure, but there wasn’t much it could glean from the thousands of statues and murals at the time.
Although the figure before it now did not hold the same air of royal divinity, seeing him in the flesh made it understand all the better why Hua Cheng held such devotion towards him.
It divided its time between managing Ghost City, helping maintain Yin Yu’s ghost lantern and watching the prince. It could’ve used clones to take over the tasks, but the prince was eerily perceptive; it was sure if it lingered too long, he would notice its presence. It could ignore the longing in its chest — it knew it could never act upon such desires, not when the prince belonged to someone else, someone that could offer so much more than it could ever give. It only watched over him for the sake of the one that held its heart, to ensure that he was still here for when he returned. Once the pair was reunited, it could flee back to the bottom of the sea, to become nothing more than silt in the current.
( It was sure the other calamity would destroy its ashes if he ever found out about these feelings, but maybe he would’ve been doing them both a favour by this point. )
Anxiety marred the prince’s face with every passing day, the other heavenly officials’ visits becoming less frequent as heaven was rebuilt and leaving him to grieve alone.
“You can come out,” his voice rang out into the empty shrine, “I’ve known when you’ve been visiting for some time now.”
There was nothing- no one else he could be addressing, but the looming shadows in the corners, the presence that hid within them. Suddenly being noticed, learning that it had been noticed for longer than it knew, scared the ghost. It felt like it had suddenly been thrown into a fire, a mix of shame, fear and guilt flooding into it. As quickly as it had been called to attention, it vanished from the shrine, missing the quiet sigh prince let out as he felt its presence leave.
It didn’t show up back at the shrine for some time after that, terrified of what the prince would say to it. It was sure he likely already put up wards to keep it from entering again, irritated and creeped out by it stalking around. The prince had been close with the wind master, he likely held a grudge against it for what it had done to them, never wanting to see its face around again. It had deceived and endangered him multiple times in its path to vengeance, he would be in the right to be disgusted by it. It was disgusted by itself for having the audacity to lurk around, realising how uncomfortable the prince must’ve been knowing it was there.
( It had done the same to the wind master, watching over them as they lived as a mortal, leaving behind food and clothing for them. It never got close, never donned a disguise of another beggar, but even as a mortal they seemed to have a sixth sense. After the nth time of leaving food for them, they had spoken into the air that it ‘didn’t need to keep doing this’. It hadn’t visited them since, respecting their command. It had taken their expression of guilt for one of discomfort and fear. )
It couldn’t break the habit in the end, surprised to find the shrine was still unguarded when it hesitantly melted into the shadows. It felt guilty, seeing prince’s appearance — he looked haggard, stirring a pot of indescribable liquid on the stove with an empty look in his eyes. He suddenly perked up, swinging around to face the corner the ghost had hidden in with a precision that unnerved it.
“Oh! You’re back!” He sounded strangely excited. “I was worried when you suddenly disappeared, I realised I must’ve startled you. I’m sorry.”
It didn’t know how to reply or why the prince was apologising. It was the one that should’ve apologised, for intruding on his space uninvited.
“Ah, you don’t have to come out if you don’t want to,” he continued on sheepishly, “San Lang told me you were a bit shy.” Mentioning the calamity brought a flash of sadness across his face, subconsciously playing with the ring dangling around his neck. “Just… you’re welcome to stay. I don’t get many visitors nowadays, so it was nice to have your presence around.”
To hear such sentiment made the yearning in its chest throb, though it remained incorporeal, silently watching as it always did. Even without a physical reply, the fact that it didn’t run off again brought a small smile to the prince’s face — even such a small smile felt blindingly bright. It wanted to ensure that smile stayed, that he would never have to experience the pain that dulled it ever again, but it knew better. It may have been able to be a replacement in a physical sense for Hua Cheng, but it could never fill the spot the calamity left in the prince’s heart. It would never be enough to make him smile brightly, to laugh without a care, to feel free of the centuries of despair and hardship he endured.
It felt for the faint pull of the other calamity, wishing for him to return sooner.
It followed the prince’s command, keeping him company when Ghost City didn’t need to be under its supervision anymore after Yin Yu had been successfully revived, listening to him ramble on about his day and old stories he gathered over centuries of scrap collecting. It never left the dark corner, not daring to intrude more than it already had. The prince never asked for it to do more than just be there, even when his gaze lingered over the corners just a second too long, face twisting like he wanted to say something, before deciding against it.
It was satisfied enough with this much. It knew better than to want more — it wanted the prince to command it to come out of hiding, to force it to reveal itself to him. It would weather any judgement the prince passed on it, as long as it meant having his soft hazel eyes focused on it solely.
( It’d let him wrench out its unbeating heart from its cold dead chest if he wanted to. If he felt that would pay for its sins, for what it had done to the wind master, for what it had done to him, it’d happily allow him. )
It wanted to scream. It was a betrayal to hold these feelings, for daring to sully the prince with these horrid thoughts. It didn’t deserve the kindness he showed it, tolerating its oppressive presence when he longed for someone else in its place. It wasn’t the one that was meant to be here, it wasn’t the one that could make the prince happy, it wasn’t the one that could return the light to his eyes. It was a fake, a pathetic substitute, it had nothing to offer.
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. It would never be enough to make either of the ones who held its heart happy. There was no place for it between them, it didn’t deserve either of their love. They wouldn’t need it anymore once they had each other. They would no longer have to settle for less.
( It missed cool lips pressed to its forehead, reassuring it that it was enough, that it didn’t need to be more than what it was. It wished it could’ve believed that comfortable lie. It knew it meant it fully when it was the one saying it. )
The blooming in its chest alerted it to the other calamity’s return before he appeared physically, red painting the sky to announce his appearance in all the dramatics and flare he was best at.
It watched from afar as the lovers reunited, the happiness between them burning brighter than the countless lanterns that lit up the sky, forcing it to look away. It swallowed down the lump in its throat, ignoring the building pressure behind its eyes.
( It wanted those smiles turned towards it, to be held between them. It wanted to be destroyed by their light, to finally be allowed to rest knowing it was loved. )
It wouldn’t get in their way, it wouldn’t burden them with its hurricane of emotions. To remain would only bring despair and discomfort, it would only ruin the perfect life they would build together. Before its tears could fall, it vanished from the shrine, like it had never been there to begin with.
There was nothing left to wait for.
There was nothing left to watch.
Unneeded, unloved, reduced to nothing but a demon, it fled to the bottom of the sea.
He tried accessing the isle through the arrays in Paradise Manor, finding all of them deactivated. Their communication array had also been blocked, sending his messages into the void. He had even, in desperation, tried to access the isle through physical means, only the be barred by the new bone fish that had replaced the dragons killed and injured during the battle with heaven.
The only consolation he had was that its ashes still remained, an inconspicuous obsidian ring, worn just under the red thread tied around the ghost king’s middle finger. Even the pull that he usually felt with his other half had been so faint he was barely able to detect it. Hua Cheng wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if he found out the devastation dissipated while he was gathering strength to reform, the guilt would’ve crushed him that they never got a proper goodbye. Though even now he was feeling a tightness in his chest that that might still be the case — He Xuan had by all means fulfilled its purpose for staying, if it had only continued to linger for his and Xie Lian’s sake while he was gone, then there really could be a day when he wakes up to the presence that had been by his side for centuries gone.
He tried to hide his panic over the fact from his dearly beloved, not wanting to worry him so soon after their wedding. Unfortunately, Xie Lian was a perceptive man, very quickly cluing in on his husband’s unrest, trying to reassure him that He Xuan would be back, that he must’ve just been tired looking after so much between the fall of heaven and Hua Cheng’s dissipation. But a week became two, then a month, then a year, and he had still been unable to contact the water demon.
Hua Cheng was patient, he had waiting 800 years to be reunited with his prince, but every passing day being unable to reach the devastation, with a presence so faint it might fade at any second, felt like agony. He tried to put his faith into his god, that he was right and He Xuan just needed to hibernate for a while — he had dealt with it going into hibernation for long periods of time in the past, though he was usually still able to at least access the isle, watch it float in its waters with a peace only death offers, when it did.
One day, the prince sat across from him, a contemplative look on his face that made the calamity nervous.
“San Lang,” he started, “please be honest with me. Did- do you love Lord Black Water?”
The question felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped on him, freezing under the soft gaze of his beloved, mouth opening and closing as he sputtered to form an answer.
“I’m not accusing you of being unfaithful! I’m just curious,” the god quickly reassured, “I found some of your paintings, although it took me a moment to recognise who they were of but…”
“I can burn them, gege doesn’t have to worry.” As painful as it would’ve been to do so, Hua Cheng had also seen how jealous Xie Lian had become over the teasing of his ‘beloved’ before he had revealed who that beloved was. He would loath to make his prince feel that way again.
Xie Lian quickly waved his hands, shaking his head. “No, no, you don’t have to do that! As I said, I’m not accusing you of being unfaithful, I know San Lang has a lot of love in his heart.” He smiled warmly, no hint of jealousy anywhere on his face. “He means a lot to you, doesn’t he? Even when you tried to tell me you weren’t even friends,” he teased lightly. At the time, he had believed that, that the two were merely business partners at best, but looking back at how much the two had done for each other, the fact Hua Cheng wasn’t exactly hounding for the supposed ‘debt’ to be repaid, the panic over its disappearance and now the paintings? His husband really was silly.
Hua Cheng looked like a kicked puppy, shrinking under his beloved’s gaze and trying to not fidget nervously. “This lowly one apologises for lying to dianxia. It- we never truly put any term on our relationship.” They had never felt the need to define it — what do you call someone tied to you so intrinsically, a bond deeper than blood or flesh, bound by the same power running through the both of them? The both of them were created from their love and their perseverance to face anything for it, of course they’d end up so tangled together it felt like dying all over again to be without the other half. “But yes, I- he- he does mean… quite a bit to me.”
“San Lang, what have I told you about referring to yourself that way?” Xie Lian chided, fixing him with a sharp look before it morphed back into his usual smile. “Thank you for being honest. I’m truthfully worried about him too,” he frowns, looking down at the table. “I know it’s easy to scare him off, but he eventually came back…” he trailed off, seemingly in thought.
“Black Water is the antisocial type, yes. It’s out of character for him to go completely dark, though,” and it was clearly driving the ghost king insane.
The god hummed, deep in thought, before looking back up at his husband. “Do you think he might let me in if I go? Could it be that he’s avoiding you specifically?” It sounded a bit cruel, wording it so bluntly, but it also hurt him to see his husband in distress unable to get any sort of answer for the well being of someone he held dear. Hua Cheng’s face crumbled further at the thought, that he did something that drove the water demon away. The insecurity in the back of his mind shouted that it must’ve gotten sick of him, that now that dianxia was back, it had no reason to stick around out of pity. It had been so distant, even before his god returned, pulling away from him and staying for shorter and shorter times. He hadn’t even had the chance to ask what was wrong before the chaos and elation of his god reascending had thrown everything out of order.
“If gege thinks it might work, I’m willing to try,” he nods, knowing the bone fish posed no risk to Xie Lian even when they were at their most ferocious.
The isle was a mess. Mildly disorientated from the sea travel in a cramped box, Xie Lian hobbled onto the shore, a bit surprised his plan had actually worked. Fallen trees and rubble littered the sand, clearly having not been touched since heaven came crashing down. He was almost concerned that the devastation wasn’t here, but what reason would there be to seal all the arrays if it wasn’t? The manor wasn’t in much better condition, though it seemed to have avoided most of the damage that the rest of the isle faced. The walls around the entrance were cracked and crumbling in places, surely not helped at all by the steady downpour of rain that pelted it.
“Lord Black Water?” he called down the dark dreary corridor, the sounds of dripping water echoing down the halls with the scent of stagnant water and mold burning his nose. The floors were slippery with algae and shallow puddles, staining the hems of the prince’s white robes as he invited himself in. The place was in disarray — broken dishes and cups littered the floor beside smashed furniture and rotting food. Xie Lian had to hold back the urge to start cleaning, but something like that could wait until he found the devastation. The state of the manor only reflected the state of its owner, so his worry rose as the god continued his way down the halls, peeking into the unused side-rooms and study, finding them just as empty as the main hall and kitchen.
He made his way to the stairway, descending downwards before he was forced to a stop. “Ah?” It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, suddenly being knee-deep in freezing cold water. He couldn’t see the water at first, as dark as the stone around him, flooding the stairwell and preventing entry any further. The water pushed against him, as if trying to shove the god backwards. “There you are,” he thought to himself, disregarding the chill entirely and taking a step deeper into the depths.
“Leave.” The voice was so quiet, Xie Lian almost thought he imagined it, cocking his head to the side. But the prince was nothing if not stubborn, the next step having the water reaching his thighs.
“LEAVE!” The sudden force behind the yell caused the god to stumble back, looking down into the dark water that had been disturbed by the shout and his own wading.
“Lord Black Water," he spoke with the tone of a parent scolding their child, "we both know that if you truly didn’t want me here, I wouldn’t have been allowed to even step foot on shore.” Like how you had been shutting out San Lang. “I’m here to talk, you’ve been really worrying us.” He took a few steps back, crouching down at the edge of where the water started. He didn’t actually have much plan for what to do when he found the devastation, but he had always been good at improv, and he’d get this dreary fish out of its depression spiral one way or another.
He waited patiently, adjusting to the darkness around them to see if he could spot any movement from below the surface. It was silly to believe he could — He Xuan was the black water, much like how it had been the shadows that lurked in the corner of Puqi shrine for all those months. He smiled as two glowing eyes eventually materialised, only coming out of the water enough to peek at him, pupils constricted into thin slits.
“What do you want?” Its voice was back to barely a whisper, a sharp gust of wind that warned one of an oncoming storm, tinged by an edge of barely-perceptible anxiety. “Why are you here?” It could hardly look at the radiant being before it, white robes stained by its murky waters and clinging to his legs.
“I told you, I’m here to talk. And telling you that if you keep ignoring San Lang, I’m worried he might burst into a cloud of wraith butterflies again,” he laughed, though it was clear he was only half-joking. He felt a bit dumb for not noticing just how deeply his husband had cared for the other ghost king, but Hua Cheng had also been focused solely on him for the time they spent together. Now that there wasn’t that fear of losing his god again (or the overarching threat of Jun Wu), he had relaxed enough to allow his other worries come to the surface.
The water demon seemed unbelieving, narrowing its eyes in suspicion. “Why would he be worried? He has you now.” The words came out like they were painful to say, spat out between gritted teeth.
All of a sudden it made sense, the realisation dawning on the prince, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ as he put the pieces together. He didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry, a bit dumbfounded. Was being so dramatic a requirement in becoming a ghost king? How could both calamities be so out of touch with each others’ feelings when they were clearly so close? Further still, wasn’t Black Water Demon Xuan a scholar in life? How could he be so…
He wanted to grab the devastation by the shoulders and shake it, yelling: “How can you be so blind!? Can’t you see how deeply, painfully, head-over-heels in love my husband is with you!?!?!? How could you ever think otherwise!?” but he held back, closing his eyes and taking a breath. Maybe Hua Cheng had pulled a cruel prank on it, in a similar vein of proposing before saying “just kidding”, that made He Xuan believe that the love he held was a lie.
His brow twitched. Getting upset would only make the situation worse with how skittish He Xuan was, so Xie Lian cleared his throat, pasting a lopsided smile on face. “What makes you believe he can’t be worried over you just because I’m around?” He would have to be patient, treading carefully with his words. The devastation was already shrinking away with the flurry of emotions that had just crossed his face, eyes narrowed further.
“He has waited 800 years for you, he has no need for me,” it hissed, the water rising a few inches and enveloping Xie Lian’s feet once more. “You are his god, why would I ever believe I have any place in his thoughts?”
Xie Lian could only sigh, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t move away even as the water threatened to rise higher, instead holding out his hand beckoningly. “He Xuan, would you come here?”
The devastation flinched hearing its name come from those lips, moving towards him before it could even think not to. It would never deny the prince — for him to want it to come closer, to come out from the darkness it cloaked itself in, filled its chest with a fluttering feeling.
It didn’t reveal itself any further though, with only the top of its head and eyes visible above the surface, but that didn’t deter the god, reaching down into the water to gently tilt the calamity’s face up towards him. He never had truly seen He Xuan’s actual face, too covered in shadows, hair and blood to make out any details at the time it had revealed itself. Even now, it was difficult to make out its features in the darkness that clung to it, but he could see enough — it had high cheekbones, a slim jaw and eyes that pointed upwards just the smallest bit, which were now staring at him with a startled expression. He could see the smallest glimmer of silver scales just below its eyes, trailing along its hollow cheeks towards its pointed, black-tippped ears. Its skin was deathly pale, drained of life long ago, a mottled purple in places that’d be a rosy pink were blood still flowing through its veins. Hua Cheng had captured many of those small details in his paintings, and Xie Lian could perhaps understand the beauty he saw in the water demon, as drowned and sorrowful as it looked.
“San Lang is so full of love, you and I both know that. Even though he loves me, there is still room in his heart for you as well.” It felt strange doing someone else’s love confession for them, but the god was also sure that Hua Cheng likely conveyed his love over and over enough times already. “You have known him longer than I have, you’ve been by his side for much longer as well. It’d destroy him to lose you now.”
The water demon gaped at him, slit pupils dilating and constricting as it processed the whirling emotions within it. Its eyes grew watery, trembling against the warm hand so gently caressing its cheek. It wanted to lean into that warmth, pull it closer, wrap itself in it.
“I would just be in the way. You two belong to each other. It has always been selfish of me to- to have feelings like this.” It grabbed hold of the god’s wrist, holding it in place. “Crimson Rain should just disperse me himself, be rid of me. I have committed such transgressions against the both of you, I don’t deserve-“
The devastation was interrupted by the god suddenly dragging it out of the water with surprising force, bringing it up to eye level with him, glowing yellow meeting the soft yet intense hazel. It couldn’t bear to look for long, feeling like those eyes were able to see down into the depths of its wretched soul, all its sins laid bare for him to see.
“Pray tell, what transgressions have you committed besides daring to speak down on yourself like this?“ The god’s tone commanded respect, the voice of someone who, after all this time, was still the crown prince at his very core. He Xuan closed its eyes, resigning itself to the prince’s judgement, just as it had dared to wish for those long months ago.
“My transgression against you, for daring to love Crimson Rain. And my transgression against Crimson Rain for daring to- to love you.” If it was to meet its end here, then it might as well make those forbidden feelings known, so that its executioner could calculate a punishment best suited for its sinful existence.
Xie Lian was stunned, eyes widening as it sunk in just what the water demon just said. “O- oh!” He felt the heat rising to his cheeks, dyeing them a bright pink. Hearing that confession, it suddenly made the calamity’s actions when Hua Cheng was still reforming make more sense — it had looked after him but kept a very clear distance, as if it was afraid to come any closer even after Xie Lian had made it known he was aware of it. He had just chalked it up shyness, or some sort of respect for Hua Cheng, but if it was because it was in love, then…
Xie Lian laughed, laughed because if he didn’t, he might just cry instead. He Xuan opened its eyes to stare at him in confusion, flitting about his face to try and get a grasp on what the laughter meant. The calmness it had just a moment ago vanished into pure anxiety, feeling its chest tighten and choked by a lump in its throat. Its face was cradled between the god’s hands again, his warmth searing its false flesh.
“He Xuan, please come back home with me.” His gaze was gentle, filled with a vast warmth, it felt like it must’ve been dreaming to have such a look focused on it. “I think there’s been a horrible misunderstanding.” Which was the worst thing to say to someone who just confessed its love, but Xie Lian didn’t exactly have much experience in that area. He didn’t care that his robes were being soaked by the calamity in his arms as he easily picked it up, feeling it cling onto his shoulders in surprise as he marched them up the stairs. There was just one small problem to his plan of whisking the calamity back to Paradise Manor…
“Ah, He Xuan? Could you reactivate the transportation arrays?” he asked a bit sheepishly, setting it down on its own two feet. The devastation was taller than him by a few inches, but not at much as Hua Cheng was, the height difference disappearing even more with how it hunched over on itself. There was apprehension in its movements as it redrew the array to Ghost City, Xie Lian appreciating how neat its work was even with the nervous tremble of its hands.
“A-Xuan!” As soon as they stepped foot through the array into Paradise Manor, the water demon was nearly bowled over by a flash of red, hugged to a chest so tightly that if it required air to breathe, it was sure all of it would’ve been knocked out of its lungs by the force of the embrace. It barely had time to orientate itself before its face was grabbed, forcing it to look into one very watery crimson eye.
“Never do that to me again! Do you have any idea how scared I was? I could barely feel you, I was terrified that you’d dissipate without- without-“ What a sight it was, the notoriously feared Crimson Rain reduced to crying from panic, clinging onto the other calamity like it’d fade away if he didn’t.
It stared at him in a daze — crying like this, it wasn’t hard to see Hua Cheng died before he could even be called a man, all his childish fears and insecurities bubbling to the surface and bursting out. It reached up to wipe away the tears wordlessly, unsure of what to even say. It was confused — it wasn’t unused to seeing the other calamity cry, for variety of reasons, but it hadn’t expected tears when it arrived. It had expected to meet a cold sharp gaze, the one he used on the unruly ghosts in the gambler’s den, the one that earned him the title of chengzhu. Instead it was given the look of someone who had just been reunited with something they thought would never return, full of relief and…
“I’m sorry I never came back to see you, I had meant to, just-“ He was cut off by a hand on his shoulder, his beloved ducking into his line of sight.
“San Lang, I think there’s quite a bit to talk about, but Lord Black Water looks overwhelmed.” He gently coaxed his husband back from the brink of unloading all his anxieties onto the equally anxious devastation, taking one of his hands between his own. “How about we get some dry robes for him? Maybe all three of us, for that matter,” he chuckled, noting how they each were now wet in some way.
Hua Cheng’s eye widened at the state of his beloved’s robes, soaked through the front that they were nearly transparent. Any other day, he would’ve taken advantage of such a tantalising sight, but his heart was being pulled every what way, choosing instead to follow the lead of his god.
With dry robes and mildly calmer husband, Xie Lian explained what he had gotten from the water demon, who remained silent as the grave. There was clear hurt written across Hua Cheng’s face, hearing that He Xuan thought itself replaceable in his eyes, pulling it close once more. Every affectionate gesture it received had it looking towards the prince, waiting for the farce to be up, for the lovers to finally put it out of its misery and wipe their hands clean of it, but every time it just saw the same gentle smile, regarding them with equal amounts of affection.
It didn’t understand. Hua Cheng should’ve been furious with it, for daring to believe it was worthy of loving his god, for daring to spend day and night watching him, wishing it could lay next to him and bathe in his radiant warmth. He looked smug instead, like it was the most obvious thing in the world that anyone would fall in love with dianxia, it’s what he deserved. But only select few were deserving of his love back. He Xuan knew it was not one of them, the prince had more reasons to detest it than love it, yet he did not ask for it to leave, nor order for its ashes to be destroyed.
The lovers asked for it to stay.
(Begged, on Hua Cheng’s end.)
Xie Lian did not hold feelings for it as deep as his husband’s, but he was willing to try for Hua Cheng’s sake, seeing just how important it was to him. It was sure it must’ve dispersed, being held between them, the other calamity's face buried into its shoulder and the prince's arms around its waist, their combined warmth melting the ice in its veins — this must’ve all been a dream. A dream that it would soon awaken from, to find itself still alone at the bottom of the sea, with only its solitude to keep it company. It wasn’t allowed to have nice things, not in life and certainly not in death. It kept waiting for the thread holding the axe over its neck to snap, for it all to come crashing down and mock it for believing it could ever be worthy of such respite.
But the time passed, the threads that it believed severed stayed firmly entangled around them, new threads wrapping around it as two became three. It had remained so afraid of disturbing such a fragile happiness, even as warm lips were pressed against its own icy ones, trying to melt away its worries, drag it out of its mind to accept the love being given to it.
( It didn’t take long for Xie Lian to fall in love with the devastation after all, seeing how well it and his husband fit together. Coaxed out of its shell, he enjoyed listening to the vast amounts of knowledge it accumulated as a scholar and over the centuries as a ghost. They had at one point joined forces in an attempt to improve Hua Cheng’s calligraphy, but even the powers of them both were not enough to fix such abysmal writing. )
If being selfish meant it would never be apart from the hands holding it, never apart from the scents of cherry blossoms, ink and plums, never apart from the warmth that chased away the deathly cold of its body, then maybe it could allow itself that greed.
It no longer had to just watch.
It no longer had to just wait.
It could love,
and it would be loved back.
