Chapter Text
Xie Lian blinked up from his position, kneeling on the floor of Paradise Manor’s main hall.
With his arms crossed, Hua Cheng stared down at him and raised a brow. It was a long, silent moment before he spoke:
“And you are?”
For a moment, startled by that bored, frigid look from Hua Cheng—the likes of which had only ever been directed at other people—Xie Lian was speechless. Quickly gathering his wits, however, he bowed his head.
“Greetings, Chengzhu,” Xie Lian said. “Apologies for the intrusion. I’ve been gifted to you by the heavens as a…”
His voice caught.
“I mean, to—”
Xie Lian’s cheeks suddenly felt hot, and his palms grew damp under the rope binding his arms together. Beneath Hua Cheng’s piercing stare from above, he lost his cool.
“As your,” he stammered. “Um, as—well—if you want, I’ve been sent to you as—I’m here to be your—”
🥮
“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Feng Xin and Mu Qing shouted together, slapping their hands down on the table.
Xie Lian scrambled for his tea. “Careful, you’ll knock something over—”
“XIE LIAN!”
“YOUR HIGHNESS!”
“I hear you, I hear you, you don’t have to shout!” Xie Lian carefully cleaned off the table. “Why not? It’s just San Lang.”
Feng Xin held his head. “JUST San Lang? Holy shit, you really don’t get it—”
“He was only tame around you because it was you,” Mu Qing said sharply. “You have no idea what it’s like to face him when he’s not doting over you. Now that he doesn’t even know who you are, he’ll treat you the same as everyone else.”
“You guys don’t know him,” Xie Lian insisted. “Whether or not he knows who I am, he’s not an unreasonable person. If I just explain the situation—”
Mu Qing stared at him like he had three heads. “If someone came up to you and said ‘kiss me and you’ll remember we were married,’ would you do it?”
Xie Lian was about to retort, but he was interrupted by a nearby voice:
“They’re right.”
The three turned to see Mei Nianqing set down his cards. Yin Yu, sitting across from him, put down his cards as well.
Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “Welcome to the conversation, Guoshi. Did you win?”
“Don’t be RUDE, young man! I stopped because I was obviously about to win, so there was no more point. Apologies, Your Highness Yin Yu, I have trouble reining in my skills sometimes.” He swept the remaining cards off the table with sweaty hands. “As I was saying: they’re right, Your Highness. It isn’t that this ghost king of yours simply doesn’t remember you, like those nice stories where you hold his hand or make his favorite food and he says, didn’t you make me this congee when I was sick once?, and everything is all better. It’s like you’ve NEVER met.”
“Not only that, Your Highness,” Yin Yu added quietly. “The curse affected every ghost in ghost city, too. All he has to do is ask a fellow ghost, and they’ll say you’re lying.”
Xie Lian put his fist to his chin, thinking deeply. “But something must have stayed, even with a curse like this. After all, he rose to power over ghost city for a reason. Wouldn’t he wonder why? There must be a hole in his memory.”
“Aha, but that’s the tricky thing about this curse!” Mei Nianqing declared. “It’s worse than he doesn’t remember, it’s that all of his memories have rearranged to fit the loss. He might think he rose to power because a heavenly official called him ugly, or because he’s looking for his lost pet. Whatever works best has replaced you. If he has any statues or drawings of you around, they’ll be invisible to him; there’s no trace left at all.”
Xie Lian nodded. “I understand. And it all goes back to normal as long as we kiss?”
“As long as he kisses you,” Guoshi pointed out. “I know you young people just mash your faces together these days, but there’s a difference when it comes to—”
“So I just have to make him want to be with me again,” Xie Lian said slowly. “That shouldn’t be so difficult, right? I know what he likes…”
Yin Yu nodded. “But you don’t have much time. When I left, he was already making plans to invade parts of the other territories. If it goes any further, it’ll be troublesome.”
They all sat in silence for a few moments, until Xie Lian nodded.
“Then it’s settled,” he said. “There’s only one thing we can do. Guoshi, I’ll need your help.”
He raised his head and smiled, clapping his hands together.
“You know how to make a cursed shackle, right?”
For the second time, Feng Xin and Mu Qing stood up again and shouted together—
“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”
🥮
Now Xie Lian was getting more and more frazzled, fixed under Hua Cheng’s stare. He’d rushed so much to get to this point that he’d forgotten to think of the right words for it.
“You’ve been sent as what,” Hua Cheng said. “I’m running out of patience.”
“As—a gift,” Xie Lian said finally, and smiled. “From the heavenly court. So that you’ll spare the other territories for now.”
Hua Cheng’s brow went higher. “Why would I want something like you.”
This was the part that Xie Lian dreaded most. Feeling the last of his face crumble, he took a deep breath and spoke:
“To…” Xie Lian’s voice cracked. “To serve you in bed?”
“…”
“…”
Slowly, with a clink of silver chains, Hua Cheng sank down to Xie Lian’s eye level. Without its usual warmth, the stare of his one eye was utterly chilling.
“To serve me in bed,” he repeated.
“…en,” Xie Lian said, nodding. He could feel the sweat beading on the back of his neck. “That’s right.”
Hua Cheng stared a moment longer. Then—
“Get lost.”
“I can—what?”
“Leave, and tell the heavenly court to send a more convincing assassin next time.” Hua Cheng swiped out with a long black nail, dissolving the ropes binding Xie Lian’s arms, and turned to leave. “You have one hour to be out of the boundaries of ghost city before I kill you. Go before I change my mind.”
Startled, Xie Lian got to his feet. “But, San L—Chengzhu, I’m really not an assassin!”
“Then you’re a spy. Scram. I won’t give you any more warnings.”
“I can do other things. I don’t have to serve you in bed, that’s just what I was sent for. I can also cook, or help with cleaning, or teach you calligraphy. Look!” He raised his neck. “I have a cursed shackle, I’ve been banished; I really don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“That’s not my problem.”
Xie Lian winced like he’d been stung. He’d always known Hua Cheng didn’t take well to begging—unless, of course, the begging had come from Xie Lian; but Mu Qing had been right. He couldn’t deal with Hua Cheng like he used to anymore. Seeing as an appeal to emotion would be less than useless, Xie Lian switched tactics:
“You’re spending all your energy on posturing,” he said quickly. “You want to make me leave in order to send a message to the heavens that you won’t negotiate with them.”
Hua Cheng didn’t reply to that, so Xie Lian steeled himself and steadied his voice, continuing:
“It’s not a bad tactic, but you’re ignoring the advantages of keeping me. One, it looks powerful to own a former heavenly official. Two, it gives you a bargaining chip in case things go wrong. They sent me as a bride, not a hostage; they lose face if I get killed by you. Three, they sent me as a gift to gain your favor, so there’s no agreement made. You can attack whatever you want all the same; who’s going to stop you? If you’re afraid I’m an assassin or a spy, you can lock me away somewhere. My shackle seals my spiritual energy away, so—”
“So I can do anything I want with you?” Hua Cheng said dangerously.
It wasn’t a question; it was a warning.
“En,” Xie Lian said, without hesitation. “Anything.”
Hua Cheng turned around, giving a humorless smile, and gestured.
“Then go to the kitchen, Your Highness, and make my evening meal.”
The way he’d said Your Highness had been all wrong, making Xie Lian’s heart sink; there was no devotion in it, just disdain. Still, he nodded and bowed.
“Right away, my Lord!”
🥮
Xie Lian hummed as he cooked, lifting the lid off the pot in the kitchen to check his progress.
Sure, Mu Qing had been right; the way Hua Cheng had talked to him was petrifying, arrogant, exactly like he’d always spoken to everyone except Xie Lian. Dealing with Hua Cheng like this was certainly challenging, there was no doubt.
However, Xie Lian hadn’t lost heart. After all, he still had an advantage: he knew exactly what Hua Cheng liked and disliked, what amused him, what bored him. With all that knowledge in his pocket, how hard could it be to work his way back into his favor?
For example, he was making Hua Cheng’s favorite meal, a dish Xie Lian had invented and named all by himself: Thousand Gold Come-And-Go Stew. When he’d told Hua Cheng the name, he’d laughed for an entire minute before tasting it, and then set the spoon down to declare: “Gege, you’ve really outdone yourself. This is my favorite dish yet.”
Giving himself a conspiratorial smile, Xie Lian ladled a generous portion of stew into a bowl. Surely Hua Cheng’s tastes hadn’t changed too much?
His bravado lasted until he was in front of the dinner table. He’d shared this table with Hua Cheng more times than he could count. Now, it was set for only one place, and Hua Cheng was waiting.
“That took you long enough,” he said. He gave a lazy but dangerous look, crossing one leg over the other. “Well? Let’s see it.”
Xie Lian took a deep breath.
Right. It was Hua Cheng, but it wasn’t his Hua Cheng.
“Of course, Chengzhu,” he said, setting down the bowl in front of him. “Sorry for the wait, I wanted to make sure it was perfect.”
Hua Cheng only glanced at the bowl before looking back to him. “Oh? What is it?”
“It’s my own recipe,” Xie Lian replied with a smile. “It’s called Thousand Gold Come-And-Go Stew.”
Having said that, he clasped his hands in front of him and waited.
Hua Cheng did not laugh. He didn’t even chuckle. He did smile, but it was a cold smile. “Is that so?”
Feeling a chill go up his spine, Xie Lian nodded. “En, en.”
“Taste it.”
Xie Lian blinked. “What?”
“Taste it,” Hua Cheng said pleasantly. He took up a bit of stew with the spoon, then held it on. “Go on.”
“I already did, in the kitchen—”
“You either do it willingly in front of me, or I force it down your throat.”
The realization hit Xie Lian like lightning, and then he wilted. “It’s not poisoned…”
Hua Cheng uncrossed his legs to stand—
“Fine, fine, fine!” Xie Lian said quickly, reaching out. “I understand, it’s reasonable to worry. Look, I’ll try it.”
Taking the spoon from Hua Cheng, he made a show of putting the whole thing in his mouth, filling his cheeks.
“Swallow,” Hua Cheng ordered softly. “Chin up, so I can see.”
Feeling ridiculous, Xie Lian lifted his chin and let his adam’s apple roll once, then twice. The soup was still hot, making him flush as it went down his throat. Once he’d finished, he wiped his mouth off with his wrist and handed back the spoon. “See?”
“En, I see.”
“Then why not try some—”
“You’ve used a poison that only targets ghosts,” Hua Cheng went on. “That’s clever, you’ve thought this through. You clearly aren’t stupid.”
“It’s really not poisoned…”
“We’ll see,” said Hua Cheng, and lifted one arm.
From his vambrace, a single silver butterfly peeled off. It fluttered for a moment before settling on the edge of the stew. On the edge of the bowl, it flapped its wings; it was drinking.
For a long moment, both of them waited in silence.
“…”
“…”
The butterfly’s wings slowed, and it fell frozen to the table.
White-hot panic flashed through Xie Lian, and he took a step back, his heart pounding. He hadn’t poisoned the stew, but he’d forgotten to consider the effect of his cooking on anyone or anything that wasn’t Hua Cheng. Having messed up like this, if he had to fight Hua Cheng with a cursed shackle, there was a possibility that he might actually—
He spoke quickly. “Chengzhu! I didn’t—I really didn’t poison it!”
“Don’t worry,” Hua Cheng said calmly, his eye sharp. “You don’t have to say anything.”
Xie Lian’s chest tightened; his hands trembled. “I’m not lying. You can make me drink a truth potion; I can swear on my life that it wasn’t—”
“I said, you don’t have to say anything.”
Out of breath, Xie Lian struggled to speak. “Why would I do something so obvious? If I was trying to poison you, why would I be so sloppy? Wouldn’t I know that you’d test it first? You said it yourself—”
“I know,” Hua Cheng said, raising his voice. “Stop making random excuses. I know it’s not poisoned.”
Xie Lian stopped short. “You know?”
Lifting a finger, Hua Cheng coaxed the butterfly back up. It spun dizzily a few times before returning to his vambrace, melting back in. “I know,” he said. “The butterfly isn’t dead, it just didn’t like the food. It still passed the test.”
Relief washed over Xie Lian’s whole body, and his legs went weak. “…good. Right, it’s not poisoned. So why not try some, my Lord?”
In just a few moments, Xie Lian had gone through a wide range of emotion—from hope, to terror, and now back to hope. Even after all that mess, this was still Hua Cheng’s favorite dish. Would it work?
With a disinterested look, Hua Cheng lifted the spoon and took a large portion. Leaning forward, he sipped out of it.
Xie Lian waited with bated breath. Then—
A full-body shudder went through Hua Cheng, a spasm that made him fold and lean over the side of his chair, and he spat out his mouthful in a fit of coughing.
No way.
No way.
All those times back then when Hua Cheng had said he' d liked his cooking, could it be that he’d only been—?
“Are you okay?” Xie Lian fumbled out, reaching out to pat Hua Cheng on the back. “Are you choking? Did you eat it too fast?”
Hua Cheng didn’t say anything. He’d stopped coughing, but he still had his hand over his mouth.
Drawing a fan out of his sleeve, Xie Lian snapped it open and fanned air into his face. “It’s okay, it’s okay…what’s wrong? You don’t like it?”
Hua Cheng held up a hand, stopping the frantic fanning. Then, he sat up again, steadying himself. “So you’ve never cooked.”
“I cook all the time…” Red with shame, Xie Lian picked up the bowl and turned to go back to the kitchen. “Is there not enough salt? I can take it back and add more.”
“More salt?” Hua Cheng said hoarsely, almost in disbelief.
“Then—then less salt. I’ll add more water to dilute it—”
Hua Cheng stood up. “Stop.”
Xie Lian stopped. He heard the sound of Hua Cheng walking towards him, and stared at the floor until the familiar red robes filled his line of sight.
Hua Cheng loomed over Xie Lian for a moment, then took the bowl. “This isn’t salvageable. I don’t know how you ate it, but you won’t be cooking again.”
“Okay,” Xie Lian said quietly. “Sorry.”
Hua Cheng watched him for a few moments longer.
Then, he tilted his head back and started laughing.
At the sound, Xie Lian withered further. It wasn’t the warm laugh he usually gave when Xie Lian had done something funny; it was the ice-cold laugh he showed off before he struck someone down. Xie Lian’s lips trembled at the unfriendly sound.
“I see what this is now,” Hua Cheng sighed. “It’s not your fault. You’re just a pawn, don’t you see?”
“A pawn?” Xie Lian said weakly.
“They sent you to make fun of me.” Hua Cheng smirked. “They really did gift you to me as a bride—that is, a bride straight from the underworld. If your cooking is like this, I can’t imagine what your service in bed would look like.”
“…!”
That was too much. The words pierced straight through Xie Lian’s chest. He’d always known his cooking was bad, but—was he also bad in bed? He always followed Hua Cheng’s instructions, doing whatever was asked of him. Hua Cheng was so patient, even when Xie Lian was shy, always teaching him how everything worked. Recently, Xie Lian had even started initiating things on his own, and Hua Cheng had always told him how proud he was. Had that all been fake as well?
Xie Lian couldn’t help it. His eyes filled with tears, and he pressed his lips together, staring at the floor.
A finger slipped under his chin, lifting it up. With his broken expression, he faced Hua Cheng.
“Oh,” Hua Cheng said matter-of-factly. “You’re crying.”
“I’m just tired,” Xie Lian replied.
It was true; he was exhausted. He hadn’t slept well since two days ago, when Yin Yu had stopped him at the gates of ghost city and told him what had happened. One whole day had been spent hunting down the monster who’d done it, then another day planning what to do next. He’d barely slept.
“You’re not crying because you’re tired.” Hua Cheng said, amused. “Are you feeling humiliated?”
“No. It’s just that you said I wouldn’t be able to cook again.”
At that, Hua Cheng raised a brow. “You want to cook again? Why?”
“I want to try again,” Xie Lian mumbled. “I want to fix it…”
“You want to fix it,” Hua Cheng echoed, letting go of his chin.
As Xie Lian closed his eyes, struggling to contain his feelings, Hua Cheng paced around him, looking him up and down. The clink-clink of his footsteps was crisp in Xie Lian’s ears. For the first time in his life, Xie Lian didn’t find it comforting; it was frightening. He really didn’t know what Hua Cheng would say next.
Finally, Hua Cheng stopped in front of him. “Fine,” he said. “You can try again.”
Xie Lian opened his eyes and looked up, suddenly hopeful; but his hope faded when he met Hua Cheng’s expression. Xie Lian knew this expression; this was the amused the look Hua Cheng gave any random new toy that he liked, whether it was a gaudy piece of jewelry he’d coax Xie Lian into wearing or a gold foil palace he was about to knock down. It was the look he gave his playthings, not his god.
Remembering how Hua Cheng treated his playthings when he grew bored of them, Xie Lian swallowed down dread; but for now, at least, Hua Cheng still seemed entertained. Lifting a hand, he let a butterfly flutter out of his sleeve.
“Follow this,” he said. “It’ll take you to your room. When it’s time to come out again tomorrow, it’ll lead you. Don’t try doing anything else. It’ll keep a close watch on you.”
“Understood,” Xie Lian said, nodding wearily. “Thank you for your generosity, Chengzhu. Good night.”
🥮
Lying in bed, Xie Lian snuck a peek at the butterfly.
It sat on the nightstand, glowing faintly, casting silvery light over the edge of the bed.
Despite the events of the day, at the sight of the small creature, Xie Lian’s heart couldn’t help but melt. He remembered how the butterflies would crowd around him, ticking his cheeks and his eyelashes, settling over his shoulders. Maybe some of that hadn’t changed. Everyone else was so unreasonably afraid of them, but weren’t they cute little creatures at heart?
Xie Lian lifted his hand from the bed, extending a finger towards it.
The butterfly didn’t move.
Maybe it hadn’t seen, Xie Lian thought. He reached his hand a little further, until his finger was right in front of the butterfly.
It still didn’t move.
Maybe it hadn’t understood that it could land on him, Xie Lian thought. He rolled over a little in his bed, reaching out his other hand to try to coax it on, when—
Shing!
With one flap of sharp silver wings, a slice of red flashed across Xie Lian’s finger.
Xie Lian winced, snapping his hand back, and gazed quietly at the cut. As he watched, a drop of blood beaded up and rolled down his hand.
Smearing it away with a sigh, Xie Lian settled down and tried to sleep.