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It has been a long day. Even before the giant ghost had crushed the border of Ghost City and drawn its king and his beloved out to battle, it had been a long day.
There had been prayers to answer ("I'm just a humble priest, but you may wish to cut your losses before your daughter leaves you as well, sir."), and Feng Xin's anxiety to satisfy ("I'm eating plenty! San Lang hired human chefs and everything."), and then Mu Qing's anxiety to satisfy ("No, I am not just humoring him, why don't you come to dinner and see for yourself?"), and then after relaying those conversations to Hua Cheng, he'd had Hua Cheng to reassure! ("San Lang, really, haven't I praised and enjoyed every meal with you? This one is enjoying so much good food!")
Now, miles underground, with the final hitch in a long, long day pinned in a cavernous dead-end, Xie Lian lets himself sigh in relief. Hua Cheng is in a playful mood, so it likely won't be fast , but there is only one way this situation can end.
“BEHOLD!” The hulking ghost lifts a scroll over its head, nearly hidden in its massive hand. “THE SPIRITUAL WEAPON SHIFTING SPELL!”
“Gege,” Hua Cheng whispers at Xie Lian's side. “The size of the scroll in his hand, doesn’t it remind you of when this one holds your highness’s—”
“San Lang!” Xie Lian hisses back, face flushing so hot he feels he might be steaming in the chilly cave. “Not now!”
“Gege, why? It’s only droning on about its plans. Does gege still think it would be rude for this one to interrupt?”
Xie Lian pats his shoulder in response to his pout.
“San Lang is so kind, letting this one try to reason with his enemies,” Xie Lian soothes. “As soon as the ghost is done with his speech this one will try one last time, then San Lang may do as he wishes.”
“He stopped talking some time ago, gege.” Hua Cheng informs him politely, though there is a wild amusement in this skin’s matching eyes. “He’s been staring for the past while.”
Xie Lian turns to blink up at the ghost looming over them again, and gives it an awkward laugh, lifting a hand to the back of his head.
“My apologies, my apologies!” he says. “You were saying something about our weapons?”
“...” The ghost glares down at them both, three-irised eyes flicking from Hua Cheng, to Xie Lian, then back again. “...YES. THE SPIRITUAL WEAPON SHIFT—”
“Gege, this one forgot! Tonight, is it okay if this one makes dinner for your highness himself?”
“Hm,” Xie Lian lifts a finger to his chin. “Normally this one would be delighted, but doesn’t San Lang have calligraphy to practice this evening?”
“Gege, nooo,” Hua Cheng whines, his shoulders slumping and his skin’s expression falling into a pathetic pout. It’s a look better suited to the teenage San Lang than the sharp-eyed dangerous version of his skin he wears today.
“HEY!”
“Just a moment please,” Xie Lian glances at the ghost and sketches a brief bow to it. “Sorry for the interruption. San Lang, do you really dislike calligraphy practice so much?”
“Don’t— Your highness, don’t look so worried! This one is only playing. This one can do both! Gege deserves a good meal and to relax. Maybe he can rest on this one’s lap while—”
“THE SPIRITUAL WEAPON SHIFTING SPELL!” the ghost bellows, managing somehow to increase its volume further, “WILL TRAP YOUR WEAPONS IN MORTAL FORMS, LEAVING THEM VULNERABLE TO—”
“Ah, a nap with San Lang is always welcome, but will he really work hard and not slack off with his calligraphy practice if this one is resting?”
“En, of course gege.”
“Hm… Perhaps San Lang will have to copy something important to make sure he stays on task… This one’s name?”
“But gege said he likes how this one writes it and to never change…”
“YOUR WEAPONS WILL BE— THE SPIRITUAL— NEVERMIND!”
The ghost throws its hands up in the air. For a moment Xie Lian thinks it’s just going to give up and leave. Then the scroll unfurls and magic sparks.
“Oh, we should probably stop him.” he sighs to Hua Cheng.
“Allow this servant.” Hua Cheng volunteers at once, drawing E-Ming and…
Drawing E-Ming and…?
Xie Lian and Hua Cheng both look down to the rattling scimitar, its eye clenched shut as it vibrates wildly. Around Xie Lian’s wrist, Ruoye tightens, squeezing so hard that bands of bruises form.
“Ow,” Xie Lian says, more in surprise than anything.
Hua Cheng’s eyes are dragged up from his disobedient saber, wild with panic at Xie Lian’s slightest pained sound. Xie Lian can only stare back at him, watching the red smoke pour of E-Ming, even as his own arm is engulfed in white clouds.
The change, when it happens, is accompanied by a deafening crash and a tremble that would tumble palaces in heaven. Here underground only serves to knock million-year-old stalactites to the ground. Xie Lian winces in sympathy, even as Hua Cheng drags him out of the way. What luck that none fell where Hua Cheng was standing!
Xie Lian bumps into two bodies instead of only Hua Cheng's chest. He blinks. Around his arm, something has a bruising grip. It feels much more like fingers than silk.
“Dianxia,” a voice breathes. It is not Hua Cheng’s voice, but it is so—
Xie Lian blinks down from the chest he bumped into towards the other body he'd crashed against, and finds a single, monstrous, blazing-red eye fixed on him, squinted up into a crescent with delight.
“Hands off!” Hua Cheng snarls predictably, grabbing the familiar stranger by the back of his neck and flinging him towards the giant ghost.
“Piece of shit!” Snarls the red-eyed not-Hua-Cheng in return.
A low laugh echoes from behind Xie Lian; deep, smooth, and deadly. Xie Lian shivers, even as the hand gripping his arm shifts up from its bruising grip in a slow, smooth stroke.
“Gently,” whispers a milk-white stranger, taller and broader than Xie Lian with pale, pale pink eyes and white ribbons of hair. “Gently,” he repeats in a croon, leaning closer to Xie Lian as if to nuzzle him.
Hua Cheng scoops Xie Lian up bodily and leaps away. The stranger only smiles. It is such a familiar, pleasant smile; calm and self-effacing without ever reaching his eyes.
“Ruoye?” Xie Lian whispers, horrified and transfixed.
The not-Hua Cheng has landed near the giant ghost, rolling to his feet. He snarls, baring sharp teeth, and launches himself at the enormous ghost. His jewelry flashes silver, his clothes the same burning red as his eye as he claws his way up the giant’s body to scratch and bite at his neck like a feral beast.
The ghost bats him away, and Xie Lian gasps as the young man hits the wall hard, cracking the stone behind him. But he only snarls a bloody smile and laughs.
“Piece of shit!” he declares once more, rage coloring his raw, youthful voice as he glares at the ghost.
“Fuck.” Hua Cheng mutters. “Gege, this one needs to—”
The pale white man appears before them, though a moment ago he was standing on the opposite side of the cave. His gentle smile is unchanged, even as he tugs at Xie Lian’s sleeve.
“Slaughter?” he says in pleasant request, eyes fixed and staring.
Xie Lian can only stare in return before choking out a brief “Yes.”
The pale man’s lips lift in a bright smile, and Xie Lian reaches out, still cradled in Hua Cheng’s arms. The pale man catches his hand as if it’s natural, though his fingers fiddle strangely against him.
“Ruoye?” Xie Lian breathes, staring into those cold eyes, untouched by the gentle smile.
All at once the expression shifts, lifting in genuine pleasure. The man coos “So good!” to him, then vanishes. Hua Cheng squeezes Xie Lian tighter to his chest, snarling after the beautiful stranger.
“If— That’s Ruoye, then—”
“Yes.” grits Hua Cheng, sounding furious. “It’s E-Ming. Get up , you useless thing!”
“Fuck!” spits the younger man, throwing himself back into the fight.
Ruoye, tangling his arms around the ghost's neck already, only laughs. A bright, clear, ringing sound that chills the cave with unnatural malice.
The demon struggles his hands back towards him, and E-Ming leaps at the chance, clawing into its unprotected belly with a feral snarl, the drenching blood that pours coating his lithe body.
“... San Lang, do you think maybe we ought to have listened to what that ghost was saying?” Xie Lian asks in a whisper, even as the thing roars and starts stepping in a heavy circle, besieged on both sides by the living embodiments of their weapons.
“Why would this one listen to anyone but gege?” Hua Cheng asks flippantly. “It’s fine. A cheap trick that didn’t even work. Gege’s spiritual device is far too wise and talented for that.”
“And E-Ming is too clever,” Xie Lian agrees at once with a firm nod.
Then the screaming abruptly stops. Xie Lian blinks up at Hua Cheng's sharp frown, then both of them turn to where moments before the ghost was struggling. Now there is only Ruoye dropping in a ripple of white fabric to land hard on the cave floor, his faint smile ever-present. Beside him, E-Ming is spitting and snarling in furstration.
“...Did you seriously let it escape?” Hua Cheng warns in a low voice, glaring at E-Ming.
The scimitar glares back, its one eye narrowed in hate and its form absolutely drenched in blood. Then its eye snaps wide, and as strange as it is to see that red demon’s eye in a human face, there is no mistaking its expression.
“Dianxia!” cries E-Ming in delight, flinging himself forward.
“No!” Hua Cheng barks, dancing out of the way of the charge with Xie Lian held tight in his arms, like a repeat of the sinner’s pit all those years ago. “You do not touch Dianxia, you’ll dirty him.”
The furious expression that crosses E-Ming’s face is immediately over-written by a tragic sniffle and a welling of tears. Xie Lian makes a sound of objection, struggling in Hua Cheng’s arms. The moment he shows resistance he’s released, of course, but Hua Cheng complains “Gege—” immediately.
There’s no help for it, though. E-Ming has always been part of Hua Cheng, and a part of Hua Cheng Xie Lian likes very much. Now he even looks like him, dark hair falling about his face and his lithe body like a younger, incomplete version of the ghost king Xie Lian knows and loves. He looks almost like—
“Wu Ming,” purrs a low, dangerous voice, tilted with a smile. “So good.”
Xie Lian freezes with his arms almost all the way around E-Ming. The lithe young man is nearly vibrating with tension, and when Xie Lian hesitates he flings himself against his white robes, burying his bloody face in his chest.
Xie Lian turns his eyes to his own horrifying spiritual weapon, watching him saunter up behind Hua Cheng, going to drape himself around his shoulders before Hua Cheng dodges around him.
“Ruoye,” Xie Lian says, his tone harsh. “Don’t call him that.”
“Gege, this one really doesn’t mind that name.” Hua Cheng sighs, an old argument between them. (If Xie Lian apologizing and Hua Cheng refusing the apology over and over could be considered an argument…)
“Still it’s not— Oh! Sorry, E-Ming, did gege get distracted?”
The teary red eye of E-Ming stares up at him from where he’s pillowed against Xie Lian’s chest and he gives a piteous sniffle.
“Dianxia,” He rasps, his voice strange and wild.
“Enough, let go.” Hua Cheng orders, striding towards them.
“Piece of shit,” E-Ming spits at once, the vicious fury better suiting his grinding vocal quality. “Trash!”
“E-Ming!” Xie Lian scolds.
Ruoye laughs again, that strange, hollow-sounding tone. It flickers between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, capturing the ghost king in his arms and nuzzling against him.
“Wu Ming, gently, gently.” Ruoye scolds, of a height with Hua Cheng and broader.
Xie Lian lifts a hand to his head, and sighs heavily.
“San Lang, you’ve never heard of a spell like this before, have you?” He asks, biting back hope.
“Sorry, gege.” Hua Cheng is trying with determined repetition to free himself from Ruoye’s twining grip. Even Ruoye’s bands of white hair are wrapping him up. “Can you ask Ruoye to not be so sticky?”
“Dear Ruoye, can you please let San Lang go?” Xie Lian requests.
The silk band turns his head towards Xie Lian, that empty smile still on his lips. He hums pleasantly— a long, low note— Then releases Hua Cheng and approaches his own wielder. He pries E-Ming away from Xie Lian, but only to slide into his place. Xie Lian finds himself immediately wrapped up in a very thorough hug.
“Fuck.” mutters E-Ming.
“Watch your tongue!” Hua Cheng barks, slapping his sword over the back of its head. “What do you think you’re doing anyway, running around like this? Hurry up and turn back, you’re useless.”
“Trash,” E-Ming shoots back.
“Gently, thank you.” Ruoye warns, even though he’s got his head tucked in Xie Lian’s hair and his hands splayed over his back.
“Ruoye, can you really speak?” Xie Lian asks, awkwardly patting the broad body glued to him on its back.
Ruoye laughs into his hair, and pats his back in return.
“I thought not,” Xie Lian says with a nod. “I think they both only know a few words, San Lang!”
Hua Cheng freezes with Xie Lian’s eyes on him, as if he weren’t grabbing his spitting and kicking spiritual weapon by its hair.
“Very interesting,” he notes with a nod.
“San Lang, please be kind. E-Ming did it’s… His? Best? Really, for being in a new body, you should be proud.”
E-Ming beams at the praise. His smile is strange. It doesn’t touch his mouth, but his eye squints up so happily. It’s unmistakably Xie Lian’s favorite little scimitar, and the sight warms his heart.
“We’ll definitely need to give him a bath though, before looking for a way to reverse this.” he adds.
“Dianxia!” cries E-Ming in delight, thrashing against Hua Cheng’s hold to throw himself at his god.
Ruoye’s bands of hair catch the wiry teenager mid-air, and bind him into a cocoon. E-Ming snarls at once, and starts biting at the bands. Xie Lian tries to put a hand to his forehead, but he is thoroughly tied up with his all-too-human silk band, who is humming again and stroking his hair with long fingers.
“San Lang, maybe before anything we should go home?” he chokes around embarrassment.
“En, gege is right as always.” Hua Cheng says, his tone not matching the murderous look he’s fixed on Ruoye.
Xie Lian grimaces, considering reaching out to his beloved in the array, but…
Well, if he did, even if he is right in front of him, Hua Cheng is likely to react as if his life were in danger… Hua Cheng meets his gaze, and Xie Lian settles for second best, giving him the look Hua Cheng had dubbed the ‘I Want to Cry’ smile.
If nothing else, it succeeds in getting Hua Cheng to puff out a breath, even if it is more frustration than amusement.
“Anything you’ve heard of, your highness Yin Yu?” Xie Lian asks pleasantly, standing near the entryway of the Paradise Manor baths.
He is keeping half an eye on E-Ming, and half an eye on Hua Cheng. Ruoye, as usual, has settled into warm water to scrub the stains off his silk without complaint. He is humming to himself, low and steady, working the blood out from under his pale fingernails.
E-Ming, on the other hand, is hunkered down low in the water, blowing bubbles and staring fixedly towards Xie Lian. Hua Cheng stands between them, guarding with a scowl. Apparently it is one thing for Xie Lian to playfully assist with a scimitar’s bath time, and another thing altogether for him to assist with a human scimitar’s bath time.
“I haven’t, your highness, but I will uncover an answer soon.” Yin Yu offers, bowing to him.
Xie Lian catches his elbow by habit and straightens him up without looking. Yin Yu bounces a little with the unintentional force of the correction, and Xie Lian glances at him in apology, patting his shoulder.
“Sorry, Yin Yu, thank you very much.”
“Thank you,” Ruoye hums as well from the warm water, pale eyes sliding over to Yin Yu and his empty smile still in place.
“... Your highness this servant is almost certain that most spiritual weapons can’t talk.” Yin Yu adds after a moment of gathering himself.
“Ah, well, E-Ming and Ruoye have always been spirited.” he laughs; an awkward, hollow laugh. Ruoye echoes it.
He doesn’t miss that Yin Yu shudders at the sound.
He waits till the Waning Moon Officer bows his way out of the room to rejoin Hua Cheng.
“Well,” he says lightly. “At least they seem happy!”
“Dianxia,” whines E-Ming in protest, getting bathwater in his mouth then immediately lurching up to spit it, scowling.
Xie Lian covers an unkind laugh. Hua Cheng doesn’t bother covering his. Ruoye’s humming draws a little closer as the white silk band slides up behind the still-sputtering E-Ming. He twines his arms around him, drawing him back down into the water.
“Gege, that trash is even more annoying than ever,” complains Hua Cheng, turning his own pout on Xie Lian. “Just let this one lock it in the armory until the curse wears off.”
“San Lang,” scolds Xie Lian.
“Wu Ming,” scolds Ruoye at the same time, his tone hauntingly similar.
“Trash,” mutters E-Ming, glowering at the man who bears his twin eye.
“Ruoye, please stop calling him that.” Xie Lian sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Can’t you say San Lang? Or Hua Cheng?”
Ruoye only stares at him, then starts humming again. The song is low and distant in his voice as he props his chin on E-Ming’s head and toys with his messy, snarled dark hair.
“Wu Ming is fine.” Hua Cheng repeats. “That’s how Ruoye first knew this one after all, your highness.”
“So good,” praises Ruoye, smile touching his eyes again as he observes the Ghost king. “Wu Ming, so good.”
Xie Lian is treated to the rare sight of beloved averting his eye and clearing his throat. If he were human he would definitely be blushing. Then something sinks into him and he frowns to himself.
“Ruoye,” he calls, and the empty smile turns on him. “Where did you learn to speak?”
Ruoye seems to consider the question a long time before inclining his head to Xie Lian.
“Thank you,” he says lightly, before gently turning E-Ming’s head towards Hua Cheng with the tips of his fingers.
“Piece of shit,” E-Ming hisses again.
Hua Cheng sneers at it in response, but Xie Lian taps his fist in understanding. He remembers it clearly, those early days with Ruoye, once he was… Himself again. Once he started talking. Hadn’t he always reminded it ‘gently, gently,’ while it explored the world? Hadn’t he told it how good it was often?
...Hadn’t he called Wu Ming’s not-name as he wept in repentance, night after night?
“You learned from us, then.” Xie Lian says aloud with a bright smile. “Truly, such clever weapons you both are!”
“Thank you.” Ruoye says, squeezing E-Ming in pleasure.
“Dianxia!” E-Ming agrees in delight, his eye shining.
Xie Lian has noticed, but not commented on, the fact that E-Ming seems to only know curses and his own title.
“Gege, you’ll spoil it.” Hua Cheng mutters, shifting his weight and still glaring down at the weapon. Xie Lian knows where his gaze is fixated on that reflection of his own young face.
“Don’t worry, San Lang,” Xie Lian comforts, wrapping his arm around the Ghost King’s slender waist. “This one can spoil more than one person at a time.”
“It’s not a person, it’s a manifested curse.” Hua Cheng replies, no humor in his grim tone. “It shouldn’t be around Dianxia.”
Xie Lian squeezes him closer.
“We’ve talked about this,” he sets his free hand on Hua Cheng's chest.
“It was a sword when we talked about it.”
Ruoye’s pale eyes are flicking between them over his distant, meaningless smile. E-Ming’s cursed red eye, however, is fixed on Xie Lian, as expressive as ever. It wells with tears, pupil shrinking to a slit in the red. He looks afraid.
“My god,” E-Ming whispers, his rough, ragged voice tearing open the brewing argument. “My god, please, please, wait for me.”
Xie Lian’s mouth drops open. Hua Cheng makes a wounded sound and jolts forward as if he’s about to wade into the bath and gut the poor sword.
“Shut up!” Hua Cheng barks. “He’s not your god at all!”
“My god,” E-Ming begs, that teary eye still fixated.
Xie Lian thinks of Ruoye’s early years, wrapped around his forearm, learning words like ‘thank you’ and ‘gently.’
He passes Hua Cheng’s frozen, furious form in a swift, flowing motion. He wraps both weapons in his arms, nevermind that he’s soaking his already-changed robes in the bloodied water.
“There now,” he murmurs, cradling this fragment of Hua Cheng. “It’s alright, E-Ming.”
Ruoye hums, inviting himself into the hug and twining his arms around them, his sodden hair wrapping as well. The bandage never belonged only to Xie Lian. It is the death of royals, and the cruelty of Bai Wuxiang, and his own blood. It is part of him, but it has always been more than a single person. Like this it bears his empty smile, and could be mistaken for a brother, but it is still different.
E-Ming, though... E-Ming is Hua Cheng’s blood and body. His slender form is Wu Ming’s form, frozen in time through the blood sacrifice while Hua Cheng evolved. His face is the face that hid beneath a smiling mask.
While Ruoye learned its first years under the open, rolling sky with a Xie Lian who was trying to remember how to be kind, E-Ming had grown up in the dark, with the hollow, obsessed, desperate Hua Cheng who had carved statues for ten years.
They each only know a few words. That E-Ming knows that fervent prayer…
“Gege, you’re soaked.” Hua Cheng objects, hovering at the edge of the bath.
He looks wretched, Xie Lian thinks, looking towards his love’s tight frown and tense posture. He looks lonely.
“Ruoye,” he requests.
“Wu Ming,” Ruoye coos, the bands of his hair flicking up to wrap around Hua Cheng’s wrists and dragging him into the water.
“Gently!” Xie Lian laughs as Hua Cheng splutters.
“Gently, gently,” Ruoye mutters to himself, tugging at Hua Cheng rather than towing him by force.
“Piece of shit!” chokes E-Ming, sharp teeth flashing.
“Shh,” Xie Lian whispers, stroking his hair. “Come here, San Lang.”
Already drenched, Hua Cheng meets Xie Lian’s eyes with an empty smile. “This one is fine right here, gege.”
Ruoye laughs at him. It doesn’t sound nice. Xie Lian watches the band’s pale, pale hand card through E-Ming’s dark hair affectionately. His other fingers are wrapping around Xie Lian’s throat, but he knows it isn’t a threat. That’s just where Ruoye likes to be.
Hua Cheng’s gaze flickers to that pale hand uneasily. He looks on the edge of panicking.
“It’s okay,” Xie Lian soothes. “Come here, San Lang. Don’t you think our weapons are so pretty like this?”
“Dianxia,” E-Ming whispers, pressing his face against Xie Lian’s chest again.
“So good,” agrees Ruoye, stroking Xie Lian’s throat. “Gently.”
Hua Cheng’s expression works, but when Xie Lian opens an arm to him he submits at last. He doesn’t hug the weapons, but he presses himself to Xie Lian’s side, and Ruoye’s hair binds him into their huddle.
“Let’s just enjoy this, okay?” Xie Lian offers them all. “It seems like they’re okay, and we’re just fine, so let’s enjoy this little adventure, alright San Lang?”
“Whatever gege likes,” Hua Cheng mutters, even as one of Ruoye’s ribboned hair strands tousles his hair.
The hand around Xie Lian’s throat slides lower, down towards where E-Ming is trembling and breathing fast against his chest.
With delicate motions, Ruoye pries E-Ming’s face away from where it’s crammed into Xie Lian’s chest. At first Xie Lian thinks he means to comfort the poor scimitar. Instead, Ruoye's fingers skate under his robes and down his chest, fingers strangely warm compared to Hua Cheng’s.
“Hey, no.” Hua Cheng snarls, grabbing Ruoye’s wrist and glowering.
“Gently,” Ruoye warns, staring at Hua Cheng with calm eyes and a vicious smile.
“Trash,” scolds E-Ming in a murmur, huddling back into place at Xie Lian’s chest and letting out a little pleased sound in the back of his throat. His cold breath tickles against Xie Lian’s wet robes.
“You too!” Hua Cheng objects, shoving at E-Ming with his free hand.
Xie Lian lifts one hand to cover his face, even as Ruoye’s free hand dances delicately up his arm to squeeze around his wrist and E-Ming snarls like a feral animal at his wielder.
“Why don’t we all dry off and not fight over this one, hm?” he suggests, rather raggedly.
“Gege,” Hua Cheng whines.
“Dianxia!” E-Ming adds, eye full of tragedy.
Ruoye hums low under his breath, fingers stroking the inside of Xie Lian’s wrist. It’s a strikingly familiar touch, and Xie Lian’s face heats up at how suddenly intimate it seems with a human behind the motions.
“I’ll make dinner!” He offers at once, trying to untangle himself from a silk ribbon, a scimitar, and a ghost king, all of whom seem intent on being the last one hanging on.
“So the theory,” Yin Yu says when he finds them in the kitchen, a scroll tucked under his arm that he’s summarizing. “Is that it is a way to kill spiritual weapons. They are not meant to inhabit human forms. If mortal injury doesn’t claim them, they should starve, or go mad, or drive their wielders mad with the senseless screaming of a being never meant to inhabit a body.”
“Well, clearly that hasn’t happened.” Hua Cheng mutters, looking rather like he wished it had.
Xie Lian laughs awkwardly, accepting another bite of a meat bun from Ruoye, who insists on sharing with him, and then one from E-Ming too, who has refused to be left out of the bun sharing. The little scimitar will only eat the buns Xie Lian has already bitten, but that he does eagerly. Really, Xie Lian doesn’t mind that so much as how Ruoye keeps wiping his mouth after each bite and cooing “so good.”
“Gege, just tell them to stop.” Hua Cheng whines again, clearly, blatantly, obviously jealous.
“It’s a good thing, it’s a good thing,” Xie Lian objects, flapping a hand at him. “They both know how to eat, and they both like taking care of this one! Isn’t that sweet?”
Hua Cheng’s expression shifts deeper into a pout. Yin Yu’s blank stare doesn’t falter as he watches the vision of E-Ming happily devouring an already bitten bun of questionable quality, held in both his hands and shredded to bits by his too-sharp teeth.
“I’m sure I don’t know, your highness.” Yin Yu says at last. “But it’s clear Ruoye and E-Ming are no ordinary weapons.”
“Thank you,” Ruoye says politely, eerie eyes fixed on Yin Yu, matching his blank stare with his own empty smile.
Yin Yu looks away first. Xie Lian gently removes Ruoye’s hand from his neck again, patting it in apology. He doesn’t mind the touch, but it’s been making Hua Cheng jumpy.
“And how does one break the spell?” Hua Cheng asks coldly. “Kill the caster? The damn ghost escaped, since that trash couldn’t finish it off.”
“Piece of shit.” mutters E-Ming to himself around a mouthful of bun. Hua Cheng cuffs him over the head sharply anyway, and receives a furious scowl in return.
“It’s not written.” Yin Yu admits. “Killing the one who cast the spell does not appear to do the trick. All the references I’ve found so far have ended… Badly.”
“How badly?” Xie Lian asks.
“Either the weapon kills its master, or vice versa.” Yin Yu admits, glancing between Hua Cheng and E-Ming with carefully covered concern.
Hua Cheng, ignoring him as ever, doesn’t notice. Ruoye and Xie Lian do. Xie Lian knows because Ruoye’s fingers tighten in his hand, and he murmurs “Wu Ming…” as if to himself. Xie Lian squeezes his hand in return. Even in a new form, they understand each other. He feels Ruoye’s concern mirror his own. If it had only been Hua Cheng and E-Ming affected by the spell, it may well have come to pass.
“Well,” Xie Lian says warmly, tangling his fingers with Ruoye’s, “for my part, I’m perfectly happy with this! Ruoye and E-Ming both seem alright so far, and are coping extremely well. They’re also both still quite strong! They attacked the ghost without hesitation!”
“They aren’t as strong as usual, gege.” Hua Cheng informs him, eye narrowed in frustration as he grips E-Ming’s hair again, giving the poor scimitar a shake. “Even if it had all its powers, E-Ming is useless and impulsive without a firm hand wielding it.”
E-Ming’s eye tears up, but he doesn’t curse at Hua Cheng. He’s staring at Xie Lian with a strange look in his eye, tense and wild.
“Thank you for your help, your highness Yin Yu,” Xie Lian says, sending him a gentle smile he doesn’t mean. “Please don’t work too hard!”
Yin Yu bows to him, but Xie Lian sees the sharp look Hua Cheng casts him, and knows Yin Yu will be working overtime to find a solution. It’s not until he leaves the room that Xie Lian reaches out with his free hand and touches Hua Cheng’s hand in E-Ming’s hair.
“Don’t hurt him.” he says, his voice low and firm.
“Gege, this trash was made to defend you.” Hua Cheng informs him, his eye cold as he stares down at the fragment of himself he split off and gave a spirit of its own. “If it can’t do that, then it’s worthless.”
“He is good and precious.” Xie Lian says, letting his smile fall away to stare at Hua Cheng, When the ghost meets his gaze, his expression flickers into something briefly resembling awe. “Do not hurt him, or this one will be upset with you, San Lang.”
“My god,” E-Ming breathes.
Hua Cheng’s awed expression flickers out at once. He untangles his fingers from E-Ming’s hair and takes a step back, not just from E-Ming but from the table at large.
“Yes, your highness.” he says, an empty smile of his own carving its way over his features. “Please forgive this humble follower.”
Xie Lian’s chest aches. Why must he be so difficult about these sorts of things?
“If you’ll excuse this one,” Hua Cheng continues, “he should help find a solution quickly rather than—”
Xie Lian only knows Ruoye has moved because the hand in his disappears. Then there’s a pale body wrapped around Hua Cheng from behind, hands skating up his chest, bundling him up securely.
Ruoye’s head nuzzles against Hua Cheng’s right side, his eyes half-lidded as he squeezes him. Hua Cheng goes stiff at once, eye flicking around as if seeking an exit while Ruoye fondles him. Ruoye starts humming, low in his throat, twining more securely around the ghost king and rocking slowly with him.
E-Ming scrambles under the table at the distraction, worming his way up on the other side and into Xie Lian’s lap. Xie Lian pets his hair, setting it back in order from where Hua Cheng’s grip snarled it.
“Stay,” Xie Lian offers Hua Cheng, watching him try to figure out a way out of Ruoye’s hold without harming him. “I’d like you to.”
It’s a dirty tactic, he knows. Hua Cheng always wants to please him so badly. He can’t feel guilty about it with darling E-Ming cuddled in his lap, all awkward angles left over from a teenage growth spurt hundreds of years ago.
“Your highness…” Hua Cheng says, something like a plea in his expression. He gasps sharply after, and twists his head to glare at Ruoye. Ruoye only hums at him and squeezes his hands on his chest once more.
“Ruoye, don’t grope him.” Xie Lian sighs, putting a hand to his forehead. “E-Ming, darling, it’s okay, you don’t have to shake so hard…”
“That thing isn’t scared, gege.” Hua Cheng snarls, glaring at his sword again, trying to pry Ruoye’s arms off him. “It’s excited.”
Yes, well, so is Ruoye, Xie Lian doesn’t say. It’s horrifically embarrassing, but ever since moving in with Hua Cheng, Ruoye has started to enjoy fondling Hua Cheng as much as it used to enjoy binding women. It all seemed much more innocent when he didn’t have a human face!
“Ah well,” Xie Lian sighs aloud instead, still stroking E-Ming’s roughly-chopped hair. “He’s part of San Lang, after all.”
“Dianxia,” E-Ming whispers into his shoulder.
“Not a good part,” Hua Cheng mutters, but Xie Lian thinks he wasn’t supposed to hear it, so he lets it slide.
The bed fascinates them. E-Ming even lets go of Xie Lian’s sleeve for the first time since dinner, sprinting over to join Ruoye by the bed, poking and prodding at the cushions.
Hua Cheng gravitates to his side, strangely cowed and quiet. Ruoye hums to himself still, brushing his fingers over the bedding. One of his tendrils of hair curls around E-Ming’s arm, the same way he occasionally wraps around the scimitar’s hilt when Hua Cheng has cast it aside.
“Is it bothering San Lang so much?” Xie Lian asks in an undertone, twining their fingers together.
“Gege seems to be enjoying himself, so it’s not so bad.” Hua Cheng offers, insincere and smiling.
Xie Lian squeezes his hand tight. He takes a deep breath, watching E-Ming tug Ruoye onto the mattress, edging forward on his knees. Ruoye sits on the side, sliding his hand up his own arm. His eyes are closed, and his idle humming has a strange edge to it.
Hua Cheng’s hand is cold against Xie Lian’s palm, smooth against his own callous-rough fingers. The humming fills the room over the soft sound of E-Ming’s breaths, open-mouthed as if he hasn’t figured out another way to do it yet. It’s endearing, his face showing every expression through that bright red eye Hua Cheng hates.
The humming suddenly strikes a chord deep in Xie Lian and he feels memory well like tears. He knows the song. Of course he does. He was the one to say the two of them dictated what their spiritual weapons know how to say. But now…
He swallows hard and presses closer to Hua Cheng’s side, watching his spiritual weapon grip E-Ming’s arm with hair like bandages and stroke his own arm, up and down. He watches E-Ming’s soft, open-mouthed breaths as he drops onto the bed face-first, nuzzling into the softness. He’s still shaking.
Once, while he wandered— Once, after he laid his parents bodies down— Once—
He used to catch himself himself humming old songs from Xianle. He used to hum his mother’s songs in his cracking voice while he walked, rubbing his right forearm up and down where Ruoye curled. He had been so…
“It’s okay,” he offers softly, opening his other hand to his terrifying weapon without letting Hua Cheng go. “Ruoye, it’s okay. This won’t be for long, okay?”
“Gege?” Hua Cheng asks, glancing at him even as those pink eyes snap open to fix on him.
“He’s scared,” Xie Lian clarifies. “It must be a lot. It must be so frightening.”
Ruoye hesitates, then trails closer. E-Ming hisses when he’s dragged along, but stumbles after, still bound by his arm to Ruoye’s long ribbons of hair.
Though Ruoye towers over him, Xie Lian isn’t intimidated. Hua Cheng towers too, and everyone also thinks he should be afraid of him. He wraps his free arm around his weapon’s shoulder and draws him down into a hug. Ruoye tilts into the hold, twining around him as well and nuzzling into his neck.
“What, you’re scared too?” Hua Cheng snaps with a click of his tongue.
E-Ming doesn’t answer.
“What’s there to be scared of?” Hua Cheng scoffs. “Aren’t you here with Gege? As if he’d let anything happen to you.”
“My god.” E-Ming whispers.
“Tch.” Xie Lian squeezes Hua Cheng’s hand tighter, and watches Ruoye’s pale hand slide down his arm to grip the ghost’s wrist as well. A silent plea.
“Yeah,” Hua Cheng mutters. “Our god.”
E-Ming launches himself forward against Hua Cheng. He clings to him and presses as close as he can, even as Hua Cheng averts his eye and holds still as stone.
“So good, Wu Ming,” Ruoye praises, hand sliding up Hua Cheng’s arm to stroke the side of his face with his knuckles. “So good, so good, gently.”
If Hua Cheng’s lower lip trembles just for a moment, Xie Lian isn’t going to mention it.
“San Lang, so good.” Xie Lian praises as well, and watches it melt his beloved.
The ghost king’s liquid eye fixates on him with hunger and shame both. His expression is wretched, but at Xie Lian’s gentle smile it breaks into something softer once more.
Xie Lian leads their group to the bed, letting Ruoye cling and tangle his fingers in his hair. Hua Cheng follows, their fingers twined. E-Ming is clinging to him still, arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist, craving the approval of his wielder as always.
“Dear Ruoye, will you let go for a little while?” Xie Lian requests, nuzzling against Ruoye’s head. “This one will let you hold on again in just a moment.”
“Thank you.” Ruoye replies quietly, sinking to sit on the bed. His eyes are closed again, though his empty smile remains.
“So good.” Xie Lian praises, and kisses the top of his head. The empty smile twists upwards brighter.
“Off, brat.” Hua Cheng mutters, tugging at the back of E-Ming’s robes.
“Trash.” E-Ming mutters in reply, only clinging tighter.
“Here now,” Xie Lian sighs, placing a hand on E-Ming’s shoulder. “Why don’t you come see gege?”
The reaction is immediate— A scramble of limbs against Hua Cheng and a gangly body flinging itself into Xie Lian’s arms. If he were anything but a martial god it would have toppled him. As it is, he withstands it in good spirits, swaying briefly with his burden, but only in comfort.
“What a long day, hmm?” he asks, petting E-Ming’s back and glancing at Hua Cheng.
His ghost king is watching him, a quiet, simmering jealousy in his eye. He’s holding it back with visible effort, but still he gives Xie Lian his softest, most approving smile.
“These little weapons must be tired.” Xie Lian agrees, supporting E-Ming with one arm beneath his thighs and rubbing the other over Ruoye’s head. “Will San Lang consent to share the bed?”
“Didn’t gege say no swords on the bed?” Hua Cheng asks, but it’s in his ‘good natured’ teasing tone and not his ‘please don’t make me do this’ one.
E-Ming’s puffs of breath against Xie Lian’s shoulder are a little disconcerting, but he’s got a rabbiting little heartbeat in his chest Xie Lian can’t help but be fond of.
“We can make an exception, don’t you think?”
“En, if gege likes.”
E-Ming won’t let go, but Xie Lian understands. Ruoye holds back his jealousy as long as he can, like a good boy, but soon he can’t stand seeing someone else getting hugs from Xie Lian when he isn’t allowed. By the time Xie Lian gets into bed, he’s got a sticky weapon on both sides. Hua Cheng follows him, staying on the side with Ruoye rather than E-Ming. The silk bandage is more than happy with that arrangement, shoving his face against Hua Cheng’s chest and humming, even as he splays his body over Xie Lian and E-Ming both.
“Clingy.” mutters Hua Cheng, trying to pet Ruoye awkwardly and ending up with ribbons of hair binding his wrist and hand against Ruoye's scalp.
“Shhh,” Xie Lian breathes, pressing closer to Hua Cheng’s side. Against his chest, E-Ming’s puffing breaths have evened out in exhausted sleep.
“Hmm.” Hua Cheng glances at E-Ming, then quickly looks away. He doesn’t sneer, though. Xie Lian leans their heads together in praise of that.
‘Gege's is almost asleep too,’ Hua Cheng informs him through the communication array, watching Ruoye’s pink eyes droop and flutter where he’s pillowed on his chest.
“My sweet Ruoye,” Xie Lian murmurs. “Rest. You’re safe with us.”
Ruoye watches him out of those eerie, empty eyes, smile never faltering. He watches until he falls asleep, eyes always drawn to Xie Lian’s soft smile. Xie Lian lets out a breath when Ruoye’s physical form has finally succumbed to unconsciousness. Sleeping is such a human thing…
‘I hope they have good dreams,’ he answers Hua Cheng in the array, their bodies pressed together and held in place by Ruoye’s clinging. ‘They’ve both gone through so much.’
‘They’ll be fine,’ Hua Cheng doesn’t seem able to extract his hand from Ruoye’s ribbons of hair, so he gives up with a sigh, tilting his head till he can press his lips to Xie Lian’s temple. ‘Gege is the best cure for nightmares.’
‘So insincere,’ Xie Lian accuses, smothering a laugh. His chest hitches a little with amusement, and E-Ming burrows closer. His lips part in his sleep, showing razor-sharp teeth.
‘Never with you, gege.’
Silence falls between them, more comfortable for Xie Lian than for Hua Cheng. Ruoye is heavy laying over both of them, and though E-Ming is lighter he seems to be made out of bony joints. Still, Xie Lian thinks it’s a nice sort of weight; a pleasant sort of discomfort. It may not be easy , but it’s good .
‘Don’t you think it’s funny?’ he asks Hua Cheng as the ghost king hesitantly relaxes. ‘Our weapons have been with us so long, but Ruoye doesn’t seem to have a name for me, and E-Ming doesn’t have a name for you.’
‘He seems to think my name is ‘trash,’ but this one understands gege’s point.’
A moment of silence. Then Hua Cheng takes a deep breath he doesn’t need.
‘Did Gege really speak of Wu Ming often enough to…?’
‘Every night for many, many years.’ Xie Lian admits. ‘Pray San Lang doesn’t mind?’
It’s Hua Cheng’s turn to stifle laughter. Ruoye makes a low noise in his throat and presses his face deeper against Hua Cheng’s chest.
‘Gege, this one is so honored he doesn’t know what to do.’
Xie Lian smiles, soft and real. Squished together in Ruoye’s hold, he fumbles to find Hua Cheng’s hand, and holds on tight.
‘And what E-Ming said?’ Xie Lian prompts softly. ‘Asking his god to wait?’
Hua Cheng bites his bloodless lip, his handsome brows twisting.
‘San Lang prayed?’ Xie Lian guesses, squeezing his hand tighter.
‘En. Every night for an endless decade.’
‘This one wishes he could have been there to answer, San Lang.’
‘And this one wishes he could have answered his highness’s calls for Wu Ming.’
They lay together a while, the spiritual communication array held open by their shared power. Xie Lian can’t stop looking at E-Ming’s face, lax with sleep; at Ruoye’s back, lifting and falling in peaceful slumber.
‘At least we weren’t alone,’ he offers softly. ‘Though it took me some time to love Ruoye back then…’
‘Gege doesn’t have to sound embarrassed, he learned to like his weapon much faster than this San Lang has.’
‘One day,’ Xie Lian says; a promise.
Hua Cheng responds with a dramatic wince and a tragic expression, as if it were a threat. Then they both break into stifled snickers that make poor E-Ming wiggle and whine, and Ruoye huff into Hua Cheng’s chest, squeezing them all tighter.
In the morning, they’ll check in with Yin Yu. They’ll feed their weapons breakfast, and try to help them get back to their true forms. Xie Lian will let them cling and pamper them. Hua Cheng will tolerate them, which considering his temperament is a far grander compliment than Xie Lian’s coddling.
But perhaps, Xie Lian thinks, half-crushed beneath the weight of three beings that adore him, they’ll see if they can’t get ahold of that Spiritual Weapon Shifting Spell for themselves. Just for occasional visits...