Chapter Text
Cold wind screams a warning in Xie Lian’s ears as he tumbles through the air. Stone and sky blur in his vision, disorienting to the extreme.
Stomach flipping, Xie Lian squeezes his eyes shut, barely remembering to raise his arms to protect his skull. No matter how many times he falls, the ground remains unforgiving.
Then: impact. Instinct takes over even as the force of his landing crushes the breath from his lungs and rattles his bones; he tucks into a practiced roll, body trying to absorb the damage rather than flatten. But it's useless, he'd hit the ground too hard— he quickly loses control. The harsh sting of skin tearing open on jagged rocks registers faintly in the back of his mind as he slides and slides. With a resounding thud, he comes to a jarring stop against a boulder.
Head spinning, he lays sprawled for a long moment. Dazed eyes crack open to stare sightlessly at the dusky sky. A distant wind ruffles the fiery maples on the steep cliffs above him, stark against passing clouds bruised a ruddy violet from the setting sun. With a weak flutter, his bamboo hat lands near the shore of the river he'd been following listlessly for the past few days.
For most people, slipping off the side of a cliff and plummeting down a deep ravine would be an incredibly distressing event. Xie Lian, however, feels nothing but a vague sense of exasperation and embarrassment. Only a couple of hours before, he had advised a group of passing travelers to watch their step near the rocky edge—and now look at him! Tripped by the hem of his own robe, no less!
With a soft groan, Xie Lian pulls himself up into a sitting position. Still disoriented, he raises trembling fingers to his face, numbly surveying the damage. Tiny stones stud the flesh of his palms. Red blood streams down to shredded sleeves, the fabric utterly filthy and clotted with mud.
An ache blooms at the back of his skull and he winces, prodding gingerly at the spot. By some miracle, his skull is intact. His tangled hair is full of…twigs? Mud? Ah, well. He curls his toes in his shoes. Wiggles them. As far as he can tell, nothing major is broken… but he’s a mess.
Xie Lian huffs, mourning his once-white robes. It took him a while to acquire this newer set after the last ones burned to a crisp; he was hoping he could have gone a little longer before ruining them.
In truth, he’s quite lucky he didn’t brain himself or shatter his legs this time around. He'd even managed to soften his fall on the way down by catching the edges of some branches jutting out from the cliffs. Not necessarily with his hands, but still. Small blessings.
Ah. His hands.
With a soft tut, Xie Lian mindlessly plucks at the debris embedded into the flesh of his palms and stands. Bones creaking in protest, he slowly shuffles to the nearby river to wash himself clean. He’s careful near the edge, mindful of the slick stones, unwilling to slip again and bruise his nearly nonexistent pride further.
Kneeling among sodden maple leaves and mossy pebbles, he pushes aside tattered sleeves and submerges his arms. The frigid water is a shock but not entirely unpleasant—it numbs the stinging.
Tired eyes drift closed as the cool current envelops aching limbs. He’ll be sporting plenty of bruises later, but that’s nothing new. Pain is a familiar friend. A constant, as much of a companion over the past few centuries as Ruoye and the long shadow of misfortune dogging his steps.
Wait. Ruoye!
Panic surges through his veins. Stomach plummeting, Xie Lian yanks his forearms out of the river. Raw, oozing lacerations litter pale skin from the slide across the riverbed, but Ruoye is conspicuously absent.
The spiritual weapon is usually wrapped around Xie Lian’s right wrist for safekeeping. He hadn’t had the mind to call it out when he fell—stupid, he could have used it to break his fall or grab onto something— so where is it now? Is it hurt? Was it torn along with his robes when he fell?
Frantic, he searches the inner pockets of his robes, checks the bandage around his neck, breath hitching. No. No, did it get caught on one of the branches of the trees he tumbled past? Is it trapped? Anxiety twists in his chest, eyes darting frantically around the darkening ravine, looking for any sign of the white silk band.
“Ruoye!” he calls tightly. It can’t have gone far. It wouldn’t leave him. It wouldn’t.
He feels the answering slide of silk against his abdomen as Ruoye gives a little wriggle.
Oh. Xie Lian’s shoulders sag in relief. He forgot. Must have hit his head a little harder than he thought. Silly, he chides himself, pressing a hand to his racing heart; he’s usually better at keeping his cool. He just… doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost Ruoye.
Several days ago, he'd instructed it to bind itself around his middle to help compress a wound he’d sustained in a scuffle. Xie Lian had been stealing a few hours of sleep in a shadowy corner of a small town, tucked up against the alley wall of a shop that sold steaming bowls of soup, when he heard the unmistakable sounds of fighting break out not a few lengths away.
He’d stepped in to de-escalate the fight and had caught a blade mid-swing with his side. Hands raised placatingly, prepared to stand firm, he only stumbled a little— but thankfully the shock of striking a passerby had stopped the fight anyway. They scattered. Xie Lian took it as a success. But when he pulled the blade out, blood poured from the wound, and he passed out.
Feverish, he had woken to the shop vendor dabbing at the deep cut that had already begun to knit itself together. Daozhang, they'd whispered, awed that he had woken at all, never mind so quickly. You should have died.
They'd asked entirely too many questions. Wouldn’t stop asking to know who he was.
No one. He'd waved them off feebly. No one special. Just a passing scrap collector.
He made sure to leave town the first chance he got after that.
Xie Lian brushes a hand against Ruoye, groaning in exasperation as his fingertips come away sticky. The wound must have torn open when he fell. Bright spots of crimson blossom on the graying fabric of his inner robes.
Nothing to be done about it, really— he’ll just have to give it all a good wash in the morning. The usual nighttime chill has taken on a bracing note as of late—the promise of a harsh winter. He’d rather not spend the night soaking wet; he’s tired of freezing.
Returning his attention to the river, Xie Lian pulls leaves from his hair and cards careful fingers through to loosen stubborn knots. Scrubs under his nails; splashes his face. Watches the grime and blood swirl into the glimmering river, whisked away by the gentle current.
He frowns.
Why does it seem like no matter how much blood he washes off himself, the river only seems to be getting redder? Is it a trick of the light? He didn’t think he'd bled that much.
No. He squints, brow furrowing.
Xie Lian fell at dusk. Earlier, the ravine was bathed in shades of vibrant pink and orange from the setting sun, so he hadn’t noticed— but now that it’s tucked further below the horizon, he’s able to tell: the rusty cast of the river is clearly abnormal.
There’s blood in the water. A lot of it. It's blooming scarlet in the shallows under the waning twilight.
Nearly face-planting as his foot slides along slimy rocks, Xie Lian stands at once, all thoughts of cleanliness falling from his mind.
A short command and Ruoye quickly winds itself back around his raw wrist. It obeys, but squirms anxiously at his wince when it brushes past his still-bleeding wounds. Xie Lian pets it comfortingly. He’ll be fine. His other scrapes are mostly superficial, and it’s not as though the gash on his side opened so much that he’d pass out from blood loss again.
He debates drawing the silk band out entirely and readying it for a fight, but ultimately decides against it, refusing to let violence be his first instinct. True, whoever is bleeding into the water could have been injured by a malicious creature still lurking in the shadows, but Xie Lian prefers not to fight unless forced. He’s seen too much death, too much needless bloodshed.
Xie Lian prays to whatever god is willing to listen for survivors as he collects his battered bamboo hat and tucks it away, giving the area a quick glance before setting off.
-/-/-/-
Night blankets the gorge as he walks. The waxing moon rises steadily overhead.
Following the river upstream, Xie Lian treads lightly and is mindful to stick to the shadows, picking his way through the underbrush. Gnarled trees stretch toward the water, shuddering in the cool breeze. The shimmering river is a dark vein of spilled wine to his right, dotted with lazily drifting maple leaves.
The drying blood under his robes is tight and itchy. His side twinges.
Wincing, Xie Lian clenches and unclenches his fingers. Some of the shards of rock had dug deeper into the meat of his palms than he initially thought. The bleeding has slowed to a trickle at this point, but the stickiness is uncomfortable. He wishes he'd had the foresight to rip some strips from the cleaner sections of his robes to bind them while they were still fresh from washing. It’s too late now, he thinks wryly. The sound of tearing fabric would certainly alert any foes nearby.
The moon dips behind a passing cloud, casting the ravine into eerie darkness.
The air is still, suddenly. No trace of the distant winds from earlier. Shoulders stiffening, Xie Lian strains his hearing and slows his steps. It is so, so quiet. No birdsong, no rustle of leaves or snapping of twigs; it seems the world is holding its breath. Only the gentle trickling of the bloodied river sounds in his ears. Ruoye quivers, sliding anxiously on his wrist like a coiled snake.
A crisp maple leaf crunches under his shoe, shattering the silence.
The air shifts. A sharp, coppery scent surrounds him all at once, laying heavy on his tongue. Xie Lian’s next step lands in an inky puddle that’s too far away from the river to be water. The sluggish splash echoes in the cavernous gorge.
The fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as a low, inhuman hiss cuts through the night.
Bloody palms raised, Xie Lian whirls around, trying to identify the source of the noise. It feels like it’s everywhere. He settles into a defensive stance. His instincts as a martial god are ancient, but strong; even without a sword, he has grown accustomed to settling many fights with his fists. Still, he’d rather not attack unless provoked.
Something flashes in the corner of his vision. His eyes catch on a tall silhouette melting out of the jaws of a deep cave. Metallic flecks of silver flicker in the darkness, cold and undeniably dangerous. The stench of blood thickens ominously.
An immense spike of bloodlust crashes over him like a physical blow, deadly aura expanding into every corner of his consciousness; so potent it instantly chokes the air from his lungs.
He’s. He’s buried. Pinned, crushed under an unfathomable weight, drowning. Suffocating in a dense fog with nothing but his heartbeat pounding in his ears and fear icing his veins. It’s inescapable. If he were mortal, he would be driven to his knees instantly.
But he’s not quite mortal, is he?
Still, it’s all he can do to remain standing. He's completely rooted to the spot.
He forgets to breathe. Forgets to scream. Struggles to keep his eyes open. He hasn’t felt killing intent this powerful in centuries.
A single burning eye flashes in the darkness, gaze trained on Xie Lian’s outstretched hands and the sliver of Ruoye rearing from his ragged sleeves like a viper ready to defend its master. Chills race up his spine as the bloodcurdling hiss builds.
It takes a step forward, fingers curling into cruel, razor-tipped claws.
A drop of blood slides down Xie Lian's wrist.
Ruoye erupts from his sleeve, whipping through the air, intent to strike before the looming figure can get any closer. It crashes into the rock face with a loud CRACK when the figure explodes into motion, darting around the riverbed in a blur of crimson.
It’s impossibly fast, like lightning zipping through storm clouds; nearly too quick for his eyes to track in the dark. Long hair billows behind it wildly like streaks of black flame as it turns to face him again.
Xie Lian desperately wills himself to move, to run. His legs refuse to budge.
Come on, come on, move, GO—
It lunges.
Xie Lian gets a glimpse of its eye: a hot coal set deep into unearthly, marble-like skin, onyx pupil blown so wide with bloodlust it threatens to swallow the red iris entirely. A mouth full of entirely too many teeth, extended incisors bared like daggers. Rust smeared down the pale line of its throat.
A vampire.
A feral vampire.
Looking at him like a feast set out before a starving man.
Ruoye darts into the vampire’s path and he snarls, slashing at the silk viciously, sharp features twisted in savage rage. They edge closer, trading blows. The white band writhes in the air, struggling to block strike after merciless strike. Somehow Ruoye manages to land a hit on the vampire’s flank; he bellows, skittering backwards.
An inferno of terrible power radiates off him. Xie Lian grits his teeth against it; he has no doubt this creature could tear him to shreds, rend flesh from bone. He’d prefer not to get to that point; he’s had enough of that for several lifetimes. Has bled more blood than a thousand men. Has come back from gruesome injuries so many times that he's not quite sure how much of his body is the original.
Xie Lian has met his fair share of wicked creatures. If he were to walk past ten cursed areas, he’d likely be attacked in eight of them. Such is his luck. Strangely enough, he rarely stumbled upon vampires—he always assumed it was because they tended to stick to themselves and the shadows, unable to venture far out into the daylight unless they were exceptionally old and formidable—and he’s never had the misfortune to come across such a powerful one. A feral, wrathful one at that.
While vampires usually prefer to hunt quietly—to use their beautiful, unearthly appearance and silken words to seduce their prey before subduing them— it’s not entirely uncommon for them to attack outright. To massacre. Especially starving ones. And... vampires are predatory creatures by nature. Should prey stumble into their territory? Well.
Dazzling silver bursts in his vision. Before Xie Lian can blink, the vampire is upon him.
Breath tears from his lungs as it barrels into him, tossing him roughly to the ground. Both wrists are wrestled into an iron grip, a wild eye fixed on the rivulets of blood drying on his arms.
He’s pinned. Boxed in.
Xie Lian struggles blindly, twisting, bucking, kicking out to no avail. He had no idea vampires were so heavy. His muscles aren’t cooperating, body weak and struggling with the relentless waves of murderous intent still washing over him. Come on, what’s the point of being an ex-martial god if he can’t throw off the occasional monster when he needs to?
Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Ruoye furiously battling a massive silver swarm.
The vampire hisses at his struggling, sibilant notes cutting close enough to the sensitive shell of his ear to make him freeze.
A warning.
He’s hyper aware of the razor-sharp points of the vampire’s claws pressing into his skin. Tries to unstick his tongue from where it’s glued to the roof of his mouth. The bloodlust is so thick now he can hardly draw a breath. Hysterically, he thinks maybe he can talk things out, make a deal, try to minimize how much blood he loses, it really is a pain to lose all of it, he’d rather—
The words die in his throat.
The vampire is crooning. The strange, honeyed sound numbs him, turns his muscles to liquid. Slides into his mind like syrup. Shuddering, he shuts his eyes tightly against the fog. It’s another layer of suffocation.
A thrall.
Gooseflesh erupts on his skin. The faint aroma of burning incense and something vaguely— floral? —envelops him. Mixes with the iron tang of blood.
Blearily, he turns his face to the side, trying to clear his head a little.
Wrong move.
An icy claw presses against his throat, tracing down the line of his jugular. Xie Lian swallows reflexively and it digs in just that much more. Stings lightly, indistinguishable from the kiss of a blade.
Well, at least vampires only drink blood, he reasons distantly. They don’t eat flesh. If he’s lucky, he won’t lose any limbs tonight. It’ll be a brand-new way to bleed out. A fresh experience.
In all honesty, it might be nice not to have to be alive for a little while again. Time passes easier that way. Maybe the vampire will be kind enough to leave his body in the cave, away from hungry crows; or maybe he’ll wake up leagues away, carried to sea after being dumped in the river. He’s a very good swimmer now, after the last few times.
Faintly, stupidly, irrationally, he hopes the vampire will find his meal to his liking. He knows better than most what it’s like to starve.
The bandages around his throat fall away soundlessly, sliced clean through.
He doesn’t dare breathe.
Anticipation curdles in his gut. He waits for pain, for the twin points of fangs to pierce his neck. And waits. And—
—the moon edges out from behind its cloud, illuminating the ravine.
The vampire sucks in a shocked breath.
Moonlight floods his vision as the pressure against his neck and wrists disappears in an instant. The killing aura vanishes, folding into itself. Gone. Like it was never there. His mind is washed clean of the suffocating thrall.
The sudden absence leaves him reeling.
Chest heaving, Xie Lian drinks in great, greedy gulps of the sweet air. Touches the remnants of the bandages hiding his cursed shackle, dazed. Feels the hot trickle of blood welling in the hollow of his throat. The frantic rabbiting of his still-beating heart against his ribcage.
He’s…. alive?
Disbelief and confusion swirl in Xie Lian’s mind. The vampire had him bleeding, in his grasp. Controlled; pliant. He was seconds away from being sucked dry. No way is he that lucky.
Ruoye flies out of the darkness and wraps itself securely around his arm, quivering like a spooked animal. The silver cloud it was fighting has vanished.
A strangled gasp fills the now-empty air.
Ignoring the pain lighting up his body, Xie Lian turns toward it, steeling himself.
Back pressed tight against the cliff face, the vampire trembles like a leaf caught in the wind. A wretched expression twists that striking face as he stares, unblinking, at Xie Lian. His visible eye is blown wide and glassy, red depths swirling in apparent turmoil. Dark blood drips freely from between white knuckles, fists clenched so tight that he must have pierced himself with the tips of his own claws.
He looks terrified. Like he’s seen a ghost.
Xie Lian gapes as the vampire collapses to his knees like a marionette with its strings cut, prostrating before him in a deep kowtow.
“Di… d-daozhang,” the vampire chokes out, clearly struggling to speak around his extended fangs. "Hurt... you.”
He shakes his head, grinding his forehead harshly into the gravel. Apology and agony are carved into every line of his broad back.
“This one... is so. Sorry.”
Xie Lian is speechless. Hurt? He’s…upset? About hurting Xie Lian? Wasn’t he just attacking him??
Xie Lian takes in the tense line of his shoulders, devastating power bottled air-tight; considers the ravenous hunger he saw in the vampire’s gaze. Is he… holding back? Shifts his gaze to the vampire’s clenched fists.
Blood pools like spilled ink around his form, soaking already deeply crimson robes.
Heart stuttering, Xie Lian scrambles to his feet, concern flaring despite himself.
How much of the blood on those robes is his own? How badly is he wounded?
Xie Lian’s mind whirls. He didn’t manage to land a hit on the vampire, frozen as he was from the overwhelming bloodlust… and he’s pretty sure Ruoye only succeeded in landing that one strike. Vampires have powerful regenerative abilities that make them incredibly long lived and tough to kill. A single strike shouldn’t have injured him to this extent!
But, Xie Lian considers, it’s possible the vampire was wounded terribly before their fight. If he was already bleeding, losing copious amounts of blood, fresh from battle, unable to heal… then it would explain why he attacked immediately when Xie Lian crossed into his space.
It’s not unheard of for a vampire to become feral if they’ve gone too long without feeding or lost enough blood; the more they lose, the more desperate they are to replenish it.
And of course, Xie Lian had strolled into a ravenous vampire’s territory littered with fresh wounds, reeking of blood. The perfect meal. Prey into the predator’s den.
Truly, he has a knack for being in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time.
Xie Lian’s gaze slides back to the dark puddle he stepped in earlier. The moon’s reflection glints off of it, trailing like shattered obsidian back to the cave where he had first spotted the vampire.
Perhaps it’s the same blood that mixed with his in the river earlier.
But why—
A wet, shuddering breath interrupts his racing thoughts. The vampire is still whispering stilted apologies into the earth like a mantra. Shaking himself lightly, Xie Lian inches cautiously toward the vampire. The adrenaline from their fight still sings in his veins but he forces himself to calm. Ruoye adjusts its hold on his wrist, restless.
Xie Lian unclenches his jaw, clears his throat. Lowers his hands, quietly commands Ruoye to stand down.
“There is no need to bow,” he says, willing his voice to steady. It has been centuries since he was anyone worth bowing to. “Please. It’s okay, I’m really fine. Are you…ah, are you hurt? You’re bleeding.”
There’s a long pause where the vampire stays curled on the ground, tremors wracking his body. Then— slowly, almost reluctantly— the vampire rises to his knees, keeping his head lowered and gaze trained on the ground. Fists still clenched tightly as though he doesn’t trust himself.
“Not all...is mine,” the vampire grates, referencing the gore caking his fine robes.
Xie Lian frowns. The puddles of blood say otherwise.
“I’m sorry to have startled you,” he says, speaking slowly and carefully, “but please know I mean no harm. Earlier was, ah… a misunderstanding. It was my fault— I didn’t realize this was your territory. So, there’s no need to apologize. If you're hurt, I might even be able to help you...” he trails off, gaze catching on the slivers of the vampire’s face now visible in the moonlight.
Unconsciously holding his breath, he edges closer.
The vampire lifts his chin. Xie Lian takes in his wickedly sharp jawline, straight nose, elegant brows like swords. Glossy, raven-dark hair spills messily over the leather eyepatch covering one eye and ripples luxuriously over his shoulder; his other eye is a shard of ruby framed by heavy lashes. His glowing, youthful skin shines finer than polished jade.
He’s ethereal. Otherworldly. The very picture of a handsome predator designed to seduce unsuspecting prey with his appearance.
Xie Lian swallows around a suddenly dry throat.
Rivulets of fresh blood trail from the edges of the vampire’s trembling lips. He must have bitten through his tongue at some point. It runs down a pale neck and into red robes like ink spilled on new parchment. Now that Xie Lian is only a couple of strides away, he can also make out the way his eye is glassy with hunger and deeply shadowed, skin stretched too-tight around the fine bones in his face.
Xie Lian’s gut twists in sympathy. If there is someone suffering in front of him, Xie Lian will always choose to help them if he can.
He's intimately familiar with the excruciating gnaw of starvation and wouldn’t wish it on anyone, human or otherwise. He knows what it’s like to be cursed; to be hurt and alone. To die of thirst again and again in a vast desert with no oasis in sight. Knows the ashen taste of desperation. And this vampire is desperate.
Instinctively, Xie Lian reaches out.
“No!” the vampire rasps, harsh. Xie Lian snatches his hand back, startled.
The vampire is shaking again, muscles straining with the effort to keep himself in place, back pressed tight against the rock wall once again. The very picture of restraint.
“Please… don’t. Come any closer." Speaking clearly pains him.
Xie Lian crouches a small distance away, trying to make himself as nonthreatening as possible.
“Okay, okay, I won't," he soothes, "I'll stay right here. But...if you let me, I can help you."
Well, he hopes he can. He’s seen much in his many centuries of wandering, helped a lot of people and creatures—and unwittingly brought misfortune on just as many. It seems like this vampire’s luck isn’t going to get any worse at this point, though, so it’s worth a shot. Xie Lian doubts another human is going to come wandering down this ravine any time soon.
This vampire is hurt, isn’t healing, needs blood terribly… and hasn’t made any move to attack again. And strangely enough, he's clearly upset that he might have hurt Xie Lian in his frenzy.
Truthfully, Xie Lian is amazed he isn’t already an empty, bloodless husk in the face of such ravenous hunger. He’s never known a creature to stop in the middle of a kill. The vampire's self-control is truly incredible. If anything, it fortifies Xie Lian’s desire to help him even more.
Something in the vampire’s expression shutters and he squeezes his eye shut tightly. The corner of his bloody mouth lifts slightly before crumpling into a grimace. His throat bobs in a painful swallow.
“It must be uncomfortable for you to be near me right now," Xie Lian says, half to himself.
He still probably reeks of fresh blood. Useless apologies rise to his lips and he swallows them down. Instead, he focuses on making himself useful.
"You’re obviously quite hungry," Xie Lian tries, "don’t you need blood? Won’t you heal faster if you're, ah, able to drink? I could… give you some of mine, if you'd like?”
The vampire’s red tongue darts out to wet his lips unconsciously before that mouth clamps shut. He shakes his head, looking pained.
“No?” Xie Lian is not buying it. The vampire clearly needs to eat.
“I… will be fine.” That eye slits open, half-lidded. It bores into him. “But you are. Hurt.” His mouth curves unhappily.
Xie Lian laughs lightly, trying to put him at ease. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll heal! I just, ah, took a bit of a tumble earlier and didn’t clean myself up very well, haha...”
It has the opposite effect. A deep crease appears in the vampire’s brow. Xie Lian waves his hands a little, wishing he could smooth that line.
“Please don’t worry about it! I promise I’ll be fine! I’m quite accident-prone, see, this sort of thing happens to me all the time, I'm very used to it...”
The vampire shakes his head and levels a pointed glare at the bloody line decorating Xie Lian’s bare neck from where his claw had connected. Agony flickers in his eye.
“Hurt you,” he rasps stubbornly. Looks for all the world like a kicked puppy. As much as a gore-soaked, fearsome, bloodthirsty creature of the night could, anyway. It’s… oddly endearing.
Xie Lian waves his hands. He had nearly forgotten about that. “Oh! No, no—really, I’m fine! This is nothing. Just a scratch. Doesn't hurt at all!”
It's silly, really, to be so worried about a tiny scratch when he can barely feel pain anymore anyway. So he tries to tell the vampire so, but then he catches sight of the look on the vampire's face, and his words die in his throat.
Ah, he must have said something wrong. The vampire looks miserable. Guilt rolls off him in thick waves.
Silence stretches between them.
Feeling like he misstepped, Xie Lian fumbles for something to say. Maybe he should change the subject?
“May I… ah, what should I call you?” he blurts.
The vampire peers at him unblinkingly under dark lashes and Xie Lian squirms, awkwardness building in his belly. But he doesn't retract his question. Perhaps it's foolish, since only a short time ago this vampire was literally at his throat, but he wants to know.
Wants to know who he’s offering his blood to.
Who exactly is this vampire, power thrumming under jade skin, boasting a killing aura unlike any Xie Lian has experienced since the fall of the kingdom of Xianle? Who pulled himself back from the edge even when blind with thirst?
Xie Lian shifts on his heels. Waits. The silence is almost worse than the bloodlust.
Oh, maybe he shouldn’t have asked. Maybe he crossed a line? Of course the vampire doesn’t owe him an answer. Every moment that passes plants the seed of doubt further.
Ears burning, Xie Lian is two seconds from combusting when the vampire speaks.
“S… San Lang. You can... call me. San Lang.”
Xie Lian’s shoulders sag in ill-disguised relief. He’s… pretty sure that’s a nickname, a name meant for family, but he’s not going to say anything. It’s strangely sweet. He breaks into a smile.
“It’s nice to meet you, San Lang. I’m Xie Lian,” he offers, clasping his hands together sincerely. “Please. Let me help you.”
A complicated expression flickers across the vampire’s—San Lang’s— face that Xie Lian can’t quite decipher, mouth twisting as though to protest. So he steamrolls on before he loses his nerve.
“I can give you some of my blood. You need it to heal your wounds, right? I’m... not exactly mortal, but I won’t quite die, so you don’t need to worry about taking too much. Though I’d prefer maybe not to lose all of it in one go— and, oh, I’m sorry, but it might not taste the best, my diet is a little…”
Not for the faint of heart, he thinks.
“But if you don’t mind, I don’t think there’s going to be anyone else passing by tonight. I don’t want to leave you here alone to starve. You spared me, so it’s the least I can do. San— San Lang?”
San Lang’s eye grows round with shock as Xie Lian rambles. He’s shaking his head, looking like he’d rather choke on a thousand blades than drink from Xie Lian.
Is… is it really so distasteful of an idea?
The thought crashes over him like a bucket of cold water. Ah. Maybe that’s why he backed off? Heat rises unbidden to his face. Of course, San Lang probably has his own reasons for avoiding him or he would have just drained him earlier! He can’t believe himself, gracelessly trying to convince this handsome, near-feral vampire that just attacked him to… what? Drink his blood? Self-preservation issues aside, this is a new low for Xie Lian.
Backpedaling rapidly, he stammers, “I’m— I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to presume—"
“No.”
Xie Lian prays that a deep chasm will open in the earth and swallow him whole. To his dismay, it doesn’t.
Just as he’s considering hurling himself into the river in humiliation, San Lang continues haltingly, “No. This… I couldn’t possibly d-drink from— from gege. I. I don't …”
Xie Lian’s heart does something strange in his chest. Gege?
“…think I can control it. Once I’m. I… can’t.” Every word seems agonizing, like shards of glass shredding his throat as he forces them out.
So… it’s not about him being disgusted by Xie Lian? Oh. Distantly, he thinks he shouldn’t feel so relieved about that.
“Can’t. You... don’t know. How…” he bites his lip hard.
A fresh stream of scarlet wells and Xie Lian makes a small noise in protest. For god’s sake! San Lang can’t afford to keep losing blood!
The vampire’s deep voice lowers to a near-whisper. Xie Lian strains to hear him over the trickle of the river. “I… I don’t deserve it. I can’t.”
Xie Lian blinks. “San Lang,” he says hesitantly, “what do you mean by that? Deserve it? I’m… it's not as though my blood is anything special. And—"
San Lang won't hear it. He just shakes his head, jaw set into a stubborn line.
Xie Lian huffs out a breath in frustration. He doesn’t understand. Lifetimes ago, the blood in his veins was deemed holy; a powerful sacrament thrumming with godly spiritual energy. Spilling it was considered a waste. Now, Xie Lian knows better, having bled out countless times for much less honorable reasons than sustaining another life.
And there’s no way this vampire could know about that.
“It’s just blood, it will replenish. Please. I want you to take it, you’re clearly not okay— no, don’t lie to me, I can tell how hungry you are—"
The sanguine pool under San Lang has been creeping steadily toward Xie Lian as they speak and it’s twisting his stomach in anxious knots, scrambling his thoughts. The vampire has probably lost enough blood at this point to have killed a regular human three times over.
"—and you’re still bleeding, and… I trust you to stop! You did earlier, right? Even if you don’t, I’ll be fine! So why—?”
San Lang shakes his head miserably, quaking limbs curled inwards like he can hide the sharpest, most dangerous parts of himself away. Like his body is a honed knife that could cut Xie Lian to shreds at any moment.
“Gege,” he pleads, teeth chattering, “I’ll. H-hurt you.”
He sounds like he’d rather die.
Xie Lian can’t have that. He shifts closer. San Lang flinches as though struck.
“You won’t," Xie Lian says firmly, more confident than he feels. He extends a hand again, unafraid, rusty spots of dried blood cracking on his palms. Then, softer: “San Lang, please.”
Anguish clear in the set of his brows, San Lang’s gaze flicks between his face and hand. His eye has glazed over again, glassy, burning; it's obvious the tight grip he has on himself is starting to slip. He needs to drink soon, or he might lose control completely and do more significant damage than just a little bloodletting.
San Lang is teetering on the edge of a great precipice, in danger of falling; Xie Lian must act while he is still somewhat lucid.
Xie Lian inches toward where he is curled against the cliff wall, achingly slowly like he’s trying not to spook a scared animal caught in a snare. The vampire is frozen, tremors wracking his tense form, staring helplessly at his approach. Xie Lian can see the way his wickedly sharp fangs pierce the soft flesh of his lips now with how far they’ve extended. Blood and saliva glisten on the lethal points like venom.
“San Lang, it’s okay.” He’s close enough now. He kneels next to the dark pool of blood and crimson robes. San Lang looks ready to fly apart. “Let me.”
He isn’t quite sure where would be ideal for the vampire to bite— avoiding major arteries is probably best for Xie Lian’s sake. Maybe the intricate web of veins in his arm would be suitable, or the spot on his neck San Lang was originally eyeing? Even his chest could work. Anywhere easily accessible.
Xie Lian reaches out and gently covers one of those clenched fists with his own. San Lang fractures.
“Gege,” he gasps.
“Where would be best for you to drink from, San Lang?” Xie Lian asks. “My wrist? Arms? Neck?”
San Lang’s pupil dilates just that much more when he says ‘neck’. Still, when he opens his mouth again to speak, he denies himself.
“Arms,” he whispers.
Xie Lian doesn’t allow himself to examine the surge of disappointment he feels. Wastes no time in pushing up the ragged sleeve covering his left arm. Cuts and scrapes litter his skin, but he pays them no mind, offering the limb to San Lang without pause. Cool, trembling hands come up to cradle him incredibly gently, graceful fingers ghosting over his skin, careful not to press into any existing wounds.
Xie Lian represses a shiver. No one has intentionally touched him so softly, so… reverently, in so, so long. The irony of such a gentle touch coming from a creature capable of tearing him apart is not lost on him.
He shuts his eyes for one long moment before fixing his gaze on San Lang’s burning one. Sees the poorly concealed hunger there.
“Drink,” he says. Pleads.
Slowly, hesitantly, San Lang lowers his face to the tender space just below the crook of his elbow. It’s miraculously unmarred. Xie Lian’s breath punches out of him as the vampire touches his forehead against that expanse of skin like a prayer. Whispers something Xie Lian doesn’t catch. And then he opens his mouth.
Xie Lian gets a glimpse of not two, but four fangs before—
Oh.
He was secretly expecting it to hurt. Was expecting to have to grin and bear it, to tolerate the painful tug of his lifeblood leaving his body. But.
The bright flash of pain as San Lang’s fangs plunge into his skin is immediately washed away by a flood of something else.
Pleasure rushes up his arm, radiating from the bite; it envelops him, caresses his nerves, lights him up. He flushes hot despite everything, despite the desperate situation he’s in, despite the blood loss.
The heady aroma of incense surrounds him once again. He can feel himself slipping into the familiar fog of the vampire’s thrall, so much more intoxicating now that he’s experiencing it unadulterated, without the bitter crush of bloodlust.
The smoky scent soothes him. A sweet floral undercurrent reminds Xie Lian distantly of gilded temples and blooming gardens and the delicate perfume of a single flower left as an offering in the open palm of a statue. Far-gone memories he’s long since relinquished to the incessant drag of time.
San Lang really is incredible, he thinks hazily, vision blurred. Despite his feral state, he continues to be exceedingly considerate. The vampire didn’t have to take the time to extend a thrall again, to make the effort to minimize the pain for Xie Lian. It must burn precious energy. And yet. He did. A flutter of something warm and pleased curls in the pit of his stomach.
There’s a slight tug as San Lang’s fangs retract—and, embarrassingly, he almost whines at the loss— but then the vampire’s slick tongue laves over the puncture wounds and he starts to drink.
Xie Lian’s jaw falls open. He forgets where he is. Forgets everything except for the sweet pull of San Lang’s mouth and the steady press of fingers encircling his arm, not trembling so violently now.
Although San Lang is drinking from his forearm, Xie Lian can feel every single little brush of lips and press of tongue everywhere. His entire body is an exposed nerve, electrified by the current of feeling coursing through him.
He’s burning up. Is it normal to feel so hot when you’re being drained? Shuddering lightly, he sinks deeper and deeper into oblivion, senses simultaneously blazing and dulled.
Sound is muted as though he’s been dunked underwater. He’s dimly aware of the desperate noises spilling from him; breathy gasps and bitten-off whimpers that would ordinarily deeply mortify him and drive him to recite the ethics sutra in shame. Can’t bring himself to care, though, since his entire world is zeroed in on the bliss borne from San Lang’s mouth. He is unraveling.
Xie Lian is thankful San Lang chose not to drink from his neck. If it already feels like this with just his arm, such a sensitive area as his neck would surely…
Time falls away.
-/-/-/-
Xie Lian comes back to himself slowly, surfacing as the thrall recedes like the tide. He's vaguely aware of the soothing drag of the vampire’s tongue as he gently licks at the puncture marks, each swipe encouraging the wounds to close. Pliant and slumped weakly against San Lang’s side, he is grounded only by the firm grip on his arm.
The vampire’s body is radiating a little warmth now that Xie Lian’s blood is coursing through him. He basks in it.
He feels… nice. Floaty, numb. Lingering, half-awake as though caught in the vestiges of a long and pleasant dream. Surprisingly, he didn’t completely lose consciousness— a likelihood he'd come to terms with early on— since he'd thought San Lang would have to take much more blood to satiate his hunger. Was certainly expecting to pass out at the least.
He wonders faintly if the vampire drank enough. Opens his mouth to ask, but all that comes out is a weak croak.
San Lang starts, straightening immediately as though emerging from a trance himself. Wordlessly produces a water skin from the shadows— Xie Lian doesn’t have the energy to question it— and carefully holds it to his lips. Helps him take small sips until his parched throat is soothed enough to speak.
Woozy, Xie Lian’s head drops back onto San Lang’s shoulder. “S… San Lang. Are you okay? Did you… take en-enough?” He licks his lips. “Do you need more?”
The vampire’s eye is wide as he gazes down at him, an expression pinching his brows that Xie Lian can’t parse. Seemingly battling with himself, San Lan opens his mouth, stained cherry red with blood, then closes it again. A gentle thumb rubs slow circles onto Xie Lian's wrist. The touch tickles. Eyelids heavy, Xie Lian notes the blunt tips of his nails, deadly claws nowhere to be found.
“Gege...” San Lang whispers.
“San Lang?”
The vampire swallows thickly. Pieces of hair tumble in front of his face as he bows his head, features shadowed.
“I am… better. Healing.”
A small, relieved smile spreads across Xie Lian’s face. San Lang does sound like he’s doing better. Speaking doesn’t seem to pain him anymore—he must be able to retract his fangs now that the edge of hunger has been taken off. His voice is smooth and clear; a velvety, alluring rumble. Pleasing to the ear. But when the vampire lifts his gaze to meet his eyes, Xie Lian’s smile falters at the anguished look there.
“But… gege, why?” The corners of his mouth pull down. “Why are you thinking about me before yourself? A lowly creature like me does not deserve your regard. I could have killed you.”
This vampire is truly peculiar. “Mm… but you didn’t. I’m perfectly fine.”
San Lang disagrees. “You should have run,” he mutters.
Huffing a little, Xie Lian weakly lifts his head from its resting place on a broad shoulder to peer up at him in reproach. “San Lang… don’t be ridiculous. How could I abandon you? You were—”
“I would have survived,” he interrupts sharply. “Gege. You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that.”
Xie Lian frowns, wishing San Lang would drop it. Doesn’t quite understand the intensity of the vampire’s concern for him. “It was my choice. I wanted to help. I just… want to make sure you’re okay.”
It’s San Lang’s turn to huff. “I should be the one asking you that,” he says bitterly.
The muscles in his jaw bunch and tense as he clenches his jaw. Swallows. After a beat, he raises his gaze to meet Xie Lian’s. Remorse burns in his eye. “Gege. I am so, so sorry. I… I hurt you. A thousand apologies wouldn’t be enough penance.”
Sighing, Xie Lian gently covers the vampire's hand with his own, effectively pausing the mindless ministrations on his wrist. San Lang freezes.
“San Lang. I’m okay. A little woozy, but that’s to be expected,” he reassures. San Lang opens his mouth to argue, but Xie Lian barrels on stubbornly. “I’ll be right as rain after some rest. I promise. Anyway, you didn’t hurt me, so no need to apologize. Whatever you did with your… um, thrall, right? Made it, ah…” his ears grow warm. “…not hurt.”
He tries desperately not to think about exactly how good it felt. San Lang still looks like the only thing keeping him from throwing himself into the dirt and groveling for an eternity is Xie Lian’s hand on his.
He continues. “I know you’re better, but I'd be happy to offer more blood to you if you still need it. I can’t imagine that was enough to replace what you must have lost, and I... I just need a little time, and then I can…”
San Lang shakes his head firmly. “My wounds have closed enough. I can drink again later once I make it back to my territory. You need to rest and regain your strength.”
Protests rise to his lips, but the steely tone permits no argument. So he lets it go in favor of slumping further into the firmness of San Lang’s side. His territory, he thinks faintly. Wonders how far that is. What it’s like.
Strangely enough, Xie Lian is dreading having to part with this mysterious, contradictory, gentle vampire. Despite their… admittedly shaky start, Xie Lian’s curiosity regarding San Lang is only growing. There are so many questions simmering in his chest he wants to ask. And… he’s not looking forward to being alone again. But maybe it’s for the best.
Silence unfurls between them. Lulled by the tranquil trickling of the river and rustling of distant leaves, Xie Lian’s chin drops to his chest.
San Lang shifts, fingers twitching under Xie Lian’s. When he speaks, his voice is low, soft. “Gege, where were you headed? Is there a place I can take you so you may rest? A home? You must have been on your way somewhere before you… ran into me.”
Blinking groggily, Xie Lian stirs. Oh, he almost fell asleep.
“...Ah, San Lang. Don’t worry about me,” he mumbles. “I’ll find a spot to rest. It’s fine. You should… head back to your, um, territory.”
San Lang makes a displeased sound. “Gege,” he says, petulant.
“I… don’t have anywhere to go,” Xie Lian amends reluctantly, “I’m just a passing traveler.”
“Certainly you must have somewhere you’d like to go? A destination?”
“Ah, I was headed west…”
“What’s in the west for gege?”
“Well, it’s not east,” Xie Lian chuckles feebly. “I’ve seen too much of the east recently.”
He’s not exactly able to stay in one spot for too long. Besides the fact that any house he attempts to build collapses within the first month, there’s only a certain amount of time he can settle somewhere before people start to notice that he doesn’t age–especially in smaller villages. Plus, he doesn’t want to bring too much of his misfortune to any single area. The last town he spent more than five consecutive years in was wiped out by drought.
San Lang quirks a brow.
“I just kind of… picked a direction,” he admits. “I have nowhere to be. No one is waiting for me.”
San Lang starts to trace little patterns into Xie Lian’s wrist again. “If gege… wouldn’t mind… maybe he would like to rest at my residence? It would be safer than this place.”
Surprise flares; Xie Lian turns to gape at him. Clearing his throat, San Lang averts his gaze in favor of staring up at the night sky as though admiring the lingering sliver of the moon. Starlight swirls in his dark eye.
“I don't want to presume, but... there are extra rooms. And I would be more than happy to host you. You’d be welcome to stay and heal. It’s the least I can do to repay you for your kindness.”
A long moment passes before San Lang turns back to look at him, mouth pressed in a thin line. His pale face is set like stone, but Xie Lian can see the anxiety flickering in the depths of his eye clear as day. Ah, he can’t help but feel a surge of fondness for this dangerous, confounding creature.
Xie Lian fixes the vampire with a wide smile and agrees. Maybe his luck is taking a turn for the better.
-/-/-/-
After a small period of rest and a few more sips of water, San Lang carefully gathers Xie Lian up in his arms and stands. He’d refused to let him walk after he nearly toppled over from lightheadedness, insisting on carrying him to his residence instead.
To his credit, Xie Lian only protested a little. It's not about dignity necessarily— it's just that he’s much heavier than he looks. Regardless of how lean or bulky they are, martial gods are all muscle. The cursed shackles on his neck and ankle have ensured that he hasn’t lost much of it during his banishment, heedless of his poor and often sparse diet.
San Lang walks steadily as though he weighs nothing, careful not to jostle him. Still a bit dizzy, Xie Lian focuses on the rhythm of vampire's steps for a short while before voicing a question bubbling in the back of his mind.
“San Lang, if I may ask, what... happened? Before I found you?” His voice comes out slightly muffled by the crimson robes covering the vampire’s chest.
The vampire doesn’t respond right away. He shifts his grip a little as they continue to move through the darkness of the ravine; the moon, long since disappeared from the sky, is hidden from view by the tall cliffs above them.
San Lang extends one finger. A glowing orb flies out in front of them, throwing their surroundings into sharp relief.
Xie Lian looks around with wide eyes. There’s so much blood—great swaths of it painting the sides of the rocky ravine and riverbed with gore. No wonder the river was dyed red—it’s as though a torrent of bloody rain poured from the sky and soaked the earth beneath his feet. Smoking corpses of various creatures—barely recognizable—lay scattered, cut to ribbons. Glimpses of white bone peek out between matted fur and torn skin. There must be hundreds of them.
“San Lang,” he says, weighing his words carefully, “… did you… do all of this?”
Something like self-consciousness creases San Lang’s handsome brow as a dark eye falls shut, hands tightening around Xie Lian as though afraid he’ll twist out of his grasp and run.
“En.”
“…why?”
“These trash were causing trouble in my territory,” San Lang explains, only continuing when Xie Lian makes a soft, encouraging noise. “Ghouls and the like. I chased them out and ended up here. This ravine is technically just outside of my jurisdiction.” He pauses. “They played dirty. Ambushed me with greater numbers than I expected.”
He looks down at Xie Lian, lips quirking.
“I promise my luck is usually better.”
Xie Lian can’t relate.
“San Lang, there’s so much blood… everywhere. You were so… why didn’t you…?”
His chest rumbles with laughter. “Drink it? It’s all tainted. The trash all made sure to drink tinctures infused with nightshade beforehand so that I wouldn’t be able to feed on any of them if I needed to.” He huffs, nose wrinkling. “Not like I would. Ghoul blood is uniquely disgusting.”
Xie Lian hums faintly, resting his head back onto San Lang’s shoulder. “I’m glad I was able to give you mine, then.”
Gentle fingers stroke a lock of hair away from Xie Lian’s face.
“Mm. I don’t know where I would be without gege,” he murmurs. “You have my gratitude.”
Xie Lian smiles into the collar of his robe and nods. Then allows himself to drift, lulled into a deep sleep by the smooth rhythm of San Lang’s footsteps.