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Sleeping with Hua Cheng was He Xuan’s second mistake.
The first had been going to Hua Cheng for help at all. Not like that, are you kidding? He Xuan has his pride, little as it’s worth, since at the end of it all he’s still in Crimson Rain’s bed. No, it starts like this:
He Xuan needs funds, and Hua Cheng needs someone he can coerce into doing the work he’s too busy or lazy to do himself. In other words, out of necessity. Dealing with Hua Cheng is what He Xuan would term as a necessary evil; something unpleasant but to be endured when he has no other choice. As for what Hua Cheng thinks of him, well, He Xuan decided a long time ago that he’s better off not knowing.
He Xuan had, briefly, made a fine merchant in the last years of his mortal life. He is accustomed to dealing with far worse business partners. The difference now is that he’s no longer mortal. Possessing a lifespan (such as it can be called) and power unmatched by almost any other being in the world, as it turns out, significantly narrows down your choices.
He and Hua Cheng are stuck with one another, and he’s made his peace with that. At least the two of them have managed to strike a reasonable arrangement—crimson to rule the land, and black to the seas. Better Hua Cheng, in the end, than someone worse.
So the Supremes claim their respective domains. He Xuan quickly accumulates debt, but that’s alright; the vengeance he will one day bring against the thieving gods is worth every smug remark and inconvenient request Hua Cheng throws his way.
They settle into coexistence. The ghost realm is, as much as it ever is, at peace.
And then:
Blame it on the drinks, blame it on bad decisions. Maybe even Supremes get lonely, the phantom ache of human desire pulling them together despite all reason or good judgement.
Hua Cheng probably thinks about his crown prince. He Xuan tries not to think about a woman long since dead.
This won’t happen again, he tells Hua Cheng when it’s over, and Hua Cheng only smirks, as if he already knows how this will end. He Xuan hates to admit, later, that he was right.
Still, it works. To anyone else, engaging in casual, no-strings-attached sex with the only other ghost in the world you could conceivably call an equal was always bound to go up in flames. But it was precisely because it was Hua Cheng that He Xuan had felt relatively safe in doing it. Hua Cheng was devoted to his fallen prince; He Xuan was too focused on vengeance to entertain thoughts of romance. Their relationship had been no more than business partners from sheer necessity before they’d started this, and decades of falling into one or the other’s bed hadn’t done anything to change that. Even calling them friends with benefits would imply they’d ever been friends.
What they have is only physical, and it suits both of them just fine. Or rather, it had suited them both fine, until recently. He Xuan can’t pinpoint what it is, exactly, not at first. A shift in the dynamic they’ve fallen comfortably into over the centuries, enough to put him on edge even though Hua Cheng doesn’t act like anything is wrong.
At the beginning, it was rare for Hua Cheng to ever come to the Nether Water Manor. If they met, it was at Paradise Manor, the number of times Hua Cheng had ever deigned to step foot in He Xuan’s territory low enough to count on one hand. And the times he did visit, he never lingered long. But neither of them ever did, back then.
Over the years, Hua Cheng’s visits to the island became more frequent, and if He Xuan started occasionally spending the night in one of Hua Cheng’s numerous spare rooms after they were done with each other, well, it was solely for convenience’s sake. And if a night happened to turn into a night and the next day, or two… Even Paradise Manor was preferable to returning to the Heavens and the Wind Master’s company.
Rarest of all were the nights when Hua Cheng would actually stay at the Nether Water Manor (just as well, He Xuan wasn’t in the habit of keeping guest rooms ready), but lately he had taken to hanging around afterwards for reasons He Xuan couldn’t fathom. The overwhelming physical need to annoy someone with his presence, perhaps. Or he just enjoys encroaching on He Xuan’s space. Whatever the reason, it didn't change anything between them. They were business partners. The sex was just another form of business—a mutually-beneficial transaction.
At least, until the fish.
The first time it happened hadn’t been particularly noteworthy. One of the small fish that liked to hover about He Xuan’s person, no bigger than the length of a finger and apparently braver than its siblings, had wriggled out to circle Hua Cheng and settle on his outstretched hand.
Hua Cheng had smirked. “Cute pet.”
He Xuan, with great restraint, only turned away and didn’t say a word. Infuriating.
After that, it wasn’t unusual to see Hua Cheng followed by one or two curious fish when he visited Nether Water Manor, the original usually among them. It let He Xuan keep an eye on the other Supreme easily enough, so he didn’t stop it. His third mistake, in retrospect.
Once or twice after that, He Xuan had caught the fish shamelessly looking for Hua Cheng when he was in Ghost City, and when he was nowhere to be found, He Xuan could swear that they were sulking.
It was odd, and a little disconcerting. He Xuan didn't think too much of it, though, until a few days later. Something close to sun had broken over Black Water Isle, and He Xuan was neck-deep in icy black water. The chill didn’t bother him any more than it did the bone dragons which swam around him, occasionally breaking through the water in a crest of white before re-entering the depths. Every so often, one would surface nearby and he’d idly rub its smooth, white skull before it slipped away again, contented with the attention.
He sensed Hua Cheng entering his domain—setting up a permanent distance-shortening array between their domains was, unfortunately, much more convenient than making Hua Cheng float to him in a coffin, no matter how amusing the latter option was to He Xuan personally—but didn’t bother going to greet him. Hua Cheng knew where to seek him out.
Sure enough, there was the sound of footsteps and then water splashing as Hua Cheng waded into the shallows. He Xuan hadn’t expected him to do that, but what he expected even less was to turn around and see Hua Cheng, water nearly up to his waist, stroking the head of one of He Xuan’s terrifying, poisonous bone dragons while the creature in question made a noise that sounded suspiciously like purring.
The fact that He Xuan was also petting one of the terrifying, poisonous bone dragons was irrelevant. Since when had Hua Cheng done that? Since when had they let anyone but He Xuan do that?
Utterly calm, Hua Cheng continued to stand there, stroking his hand over the smooth white head while the water lapped around his waist.
To He Xuan's horror, the sight was completely, disgustingly cute.
Hua Cheng had looked up then, acknowledging He Xuan with a nod, as if He Xuan was the one who had just walked into Ghost City unannounced and made himself at home there, as if he’s not the one at the heart of He Xuan’s domain. He Xuan, notably a ghost and with no heart beating in his chest, could swear he felt that long-unused and traitorous organ jump.
Do not, He Xuan thought to himself in disbelief, do not think this changes anything because he’s nice to your fucking fish.
The fish nudged Hua Cheng’s hand in a clear demand for attention. He Xuan was about to call it away when Hua Cheng reached into his pocket and drew out—was that—?
"Hua Cheng," He Xuan said slowly. "Why are you feeding my fish?"
"You're the one who asked for the money to—"
"I asked for money to pay for their food. Why are you feeding my fish?" Something else occurred to He Xuan just then, and his fine brows furrowed as he took in the scene again. How calm the fish were around Hua Cheng, and how they seemed to expect this even before he'd done anything more than pet one of them a few times. "Have you done this before?"
"You were occupied as the Earth Master," Hua Cheng says, which both is and isn't an answer. Before He Xuan can follow that line of questioning further, he adds "Don't get ideas. I've invested a considerable amount in their upkeep; it would be a shame to have that go to waste because you were too busy running around the mortal realm with the Wind Master."
The urge to throw something at Hua Cheng subsided as quickly as it appeared, mostly because He Xuan didn't have anything on hand to throw. Not for the first, fiftieth, or even thousandth time, he was reminded that Hua Cheng was an insufferable bastard.
And he had been feeding He Xuan's fish.
It wasn't as if the fish would die without it. They weren’t technically alive to start with, so feeding them wasn’t a strictly necessary act. Hua Cheng had made fun of him for his indulgence of them, even as He Xuan insisted that it was purely practical and less of a drain on his spiritual power if he wasn’t the only thing they drew energy from. He didn’t think Hua Cheng had ever believed him. Besides which, he must have a hundred more important things to do in Ghost City, but he had apparently made time to do this anyway. To feed fish who didn't need to live, because He Xuan was too busy to do it himself. Although Hua Cheng hadn't said it in as many words, it must have been more than once. It had to have been often, for the fish to be so expectant and calm around him. He Xuan... He didn't know how to feel about that.
Worse, He Xuan knew how he felt about that, and determinedly pushed the feeling to the back of his mind and closed a door on it.
Unfortunately, his subconscious has other ideas, because for the rest of the day it's the only thing he can think about. He thinks about it after Hua Cheng leaves, and every time he catches sight of one of the smaller fish that keep to the shadows of the manor darting out of sight. They always seem more agitated after the other Supreme visits, but He Xuan can't claim to be any better now. He's restless and irritated, at himself, at Hua Cheng, at the stupid fish for getting Hua Cheng’s attention in the first place. He ends up shutting himself away in the library for the rest of the day, working through scroll after scroll he's been putting off in an attempt to calm down and distance his thoughts from everything but the work in front of him.
If He Xuan is honest with himself—something he is not always in the habit of these days—whatever he is feeling for Hua Cheng began long before that morning with the fish. It's something that started long ago, something he refused to look at too closely because once he did, he could no longer pretend otherwise. A longing built from a thousand slightly-lingering touches that should have meant nothing, the sight of Hua Cheng's rare genuine smiles, the way he can pretend, in the dark, that this isn't only an arrangement borne of cold necessity. It's not as if either of them would trust that part of themselves to anyone else. But it doesn't mean anything, either.
Hua Cheng is in love, He Xuan reminds himself each day. And it’s not with you.
But He Xuan is in love with Hua Cheng.
The feeling is both foreign and painfully familiar. It’s been so long since He Xuan let himself acknowledge such feelings, part of him has no idea what to do with them. The rest of him—the part that can stand next to the Wind Master in the heavens and plan vengeance even as Shi Qingxuan chatters at him with easy smiles, the He Xuan who is ruthless and focused and can’t afford to be anything else—resolves to ignore it.
Really, this changes nothing.
Hua Cheng still loves the Crown Prince and He Xuan is still too focused on his revenge to entertain thoughts of romance. Unnecessary feelings will only serve as a distraction, not to mention the unfortunate reality that he has no hope of those feelings being returned.
He Xuan is good at ignoring unwanted feelings in favour of the task at hand. He’s had years of practice.
(Even if he now knows the feel of Hua Cheng’s hands on his bare skin, how his touch can be rough and reverent at once. Even if he knows the shape of Hua Cheng’s smile when something particularly amuses him and the paradoxical heat of that cold mouth pressed to his.
He knows too much, but it doesn’t matter. It changes nothing.)
The next two weeks are busy for them both, and then one night sees him back in Hua Cheng’s bed, because truly, nothing has changed even if everything has, and He Xuan presses himself into the silken sheets and thinks carefully of nothing at all. Time quickly falls away from them like this, tangled in each other with the rest of the world closed out.
Cool lips against a bared throat, hands holding him down until he can’t move, can’t think, until he knows nothing but sensation and pleasure that washes his mind out to nearly nothing.
When He Xuan comes back to himself, it’s dark—or rather darker than before, Ghost City is always somewhat dark—and Hua Cheng is stretched out beside him, sleeping soundly. There was a time when neither one of them would have lingered after this. They would have crashed together and fallen just as quickly apart once they got what they came for, a momentary distraction or a slip of weakness to all-too-human needs there and then gone, content to be ignored until the next time, when it would play out just the same.
It was always the same, until it wasn’t.
Maybe that’s when it started, He Xuan thinks. The first time Hua Cheng stayed, after. Or when he showed He Xuan to one of Paradise Manor’s many guest rooms instead of merely waiting for him to leave once they were done.
It was so slow, so gradual, He Xuan hadn’t noticed until it was too late. By contrast, this hit him all at once: Hua Cheng, sleeping next to him. He Xuan falling asleep practically in Hua Cheng’s arms like it was nothing. It really wasn’t such a great step from where they had been before, but the distance between spending the night in a spare room and this feels suddenly monumental.
It’s so close to everything He Xuan wants and can’t have that he wants to scream. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair.
Then again, when has anything in his life been fair?
Struck with the need to be anywhere but in Hua Cheng’s bed, He Xuan slips silently from beneath the covers and dresses quickly. There’s no way to avail himself of a mirror in the dark and he doesn’t want to risk waking his companion by lighting a palm torch, so there’s a good chance he looks a mess, but at this hour, He Xuan doubts anyone will see him.
He could—should return to the Nether Water Manor before Hua Cheng wakes. But however much He Xuan doesn’t want to be here right now, he wants to return to his cold and lonely residence even less. He’s spent enough time here by now to know his way around quite well, and almost without realising, he finds himself at the library. Not that he would ever admit as much to Hua Cheng, but this is possibly He Xuan’s favourite room in the manor; larger than He Xuan’s own, and filled with countless rare volumes and manuscripts considered lost to most of the world, so many that he’s certain Hua Cheng can’t possibly have read them all.
Luckily, he never seems to mind if He Xuan does, and so He Xuan has spent quite a bit of time here over the years. He doesn’t need to think twice before making his way to the desk where he usually sits, stopping on the way to pick up a few interesting books he’d noticed during his last visit. As he carefully removes a few from the shelf, a small, previously-unnoticed book tumbles out from behind them and lands by his feet. He Xuan frowns, bending to pick it up. Just from a look, he can tell it’s another priceless artefact, at least as old as He Xuan himself but in excellent condition. The cover proclaims it to be a collection of writings from various great scholars through the ages, many of them no doubt lost to time except for the book in He Xuan’s hands.
Curiosity piqued, he sets the other books down and begins to flip through the new one when a loose sheet of paper slips out from between the pages. He catches it before it can fall all the way out, and, assuming it to be a loose page, goes to set it back in its place—and then he sees it.
Not text, but a picture.
Himself.
He Xuan is looking at a picture of himself.
It’s sketched loosely, flowing lines that create more of an impression than an exact image, but undeniably him. He’s leaning over a book, long hair falling forward to partially-obscure his face, but what’s visible of his expression has clearly been rendered in careful detail. Most of the image is dark, but He Xuan’s face is illuminated by a smattering of light which he realises after a moment are wraith butterflies.
And then he thinks, he remembers this.
Someone (though really, there is only one person it could be) has drawn He Xuan during his last visit to the library, moments before he’d looked up to find Hua Cheng watching him with an expression that had, at the time, been undecipherable. In the blink of an eye Hua Cheng had resumed his usual appearance and He Xuan hadn’t thought much on it, but now it comes back to him with a new significance.
It had been one of those nights that stretched well into the following morning, when He Xuan hadn’t wanted to return to the heavens or his island yet and had taken himself away to the library as usual. He’d noticed several wraith butterflies trailing after him, something they’d taken to doing during recent visits and which He Xuan had put down to Hua Cheng being a paranoid bastard. For some reason, though, the butterflies had seemed to stay closer to him that time. They’d fluttered around him as he read, slivery light casting patterns on the paper, and only disappeared with the appearance of Hua Cheng.
He Xuan thinks again of that indecipherable look on Hua Cheng’s face, there and then gone. He looks back at the picture, and the care with which each detail has been captured.
It can’t mean what he wants it to. It’s just a picture, a drawing that could be of anyone or anything. But Hua Cheng had drawn him, and hidden it in a place nobody else but He Xuan ever came. Was He Xuan supposed to find this? Or had Hua Cheng simply been counting on the improbability of He Xuan ever picking up that specific text to keep it hidden? Why keep it hidden?
“Ah,” a voice sounds softly from behind him. “I was hoping to give that to you in person.”
He Xuan turns around. Caught up in thought, he hadn't heard the approaching footsteps. Hua Cheng is wearing only his inner robes with a red outer robe draped across his shoulder, hair unbound and falling over his shoulder. If He Xuan were alive, he feels like maybe his breath would have caught at the unexpected sight. Disgusting, he thinks, but without much venom.
"Hua Cheng," he says carefully, unsure if he wants to hear whatever answer he'll get, "what is this?"
He lets Hua Cheng take the book, turning it over in his hands before answering. "I thought you would enjoy it."
He Xuan frowns. "Why give this to me, with..." He's still holding the picture; both of them look at it, then Hua Cheng's eyes fall back onto him. He shrugs, too casual to be real.
"For fun."
"For fun?"
"If you like." Hua Cheng's voice is too light, too carefree. Maybe it would have fooled He Xuan years ago, but like it or not, he knows Hua Cheng know. He knows his touch in the dark and his mercurial moods and he knows that whatever this is, Hua Cheng isn't being open about it. Like he's trying to make this into less than it is. "Keep it, or don't. It's yours."
Golden eyes narrow as He Xuan takes in the Hua Cheng in front of him; one without the sharp edges and confident bravado shown to the rest of the world. One who looks... He Xuan has a hard time applying the word anxious to Crimson Rain Sought Flower. But on this occasion, he thinks it comes close. He takes a step closer, inadvertently lowering his voice when he speaks again.
"Why did you want to give me this?"
Hua Cheng doesn't answer. And then—He Xuan isn't sure which of them moves first, but—it's not the same as kissing Hua Cheng before. When, despite the physical closeness, there was distance between them, too. The feeling that one or both were holding something back and the promise to be gone when it was over.
It's not an answer, but for now it's everything He Xuan needs to know.