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Xie Lian wouldn't say that, as a heavenly official, he was anything remotely like overworked. In fact, despite his willingness to assist, the heavens rarely called on him recently
"They all know the cost," Mu Qing had said dryly when Xie Lian mentioned it, his flat stare rolling only to fix on Hua Cheng at the end of the motion.
"If some pests think twice before bothering gege, then this humble San Lang has done his work," hua Cheng responded pleasantly pausing in his work sweeping out their little cottage on Mount Taicang.
He wore his adorable San Lang skin, with an uneven ponytail, draping over one shoulder. Xie Lian was having to exercise some restraint not to shoo Mu Qing away more quickly than usual. After all, it was rare for his friend to voluntarily come for a visit, and not at all rare to unpeel his precious 'most important person' from his clothes and his disguises and his false smiles into open, mind-addling lust, worship, and adoration.
Xie Lian cleared his throat, bowing his head to breathe in the steam from his tea. If he wasn't careful, Mu Qing would realize what he was thinking and flee their little home never to return.
Which Hua Cheng would love , yes, but the very fact that Mu Qing was speaking to them again after the Garden Incident with the statues was enough reason alone for Xie Lian to put some effort into the friendship in return.
Still, it weighed on him a little, that though he was happy, respected, beloved by mortals and his San Lang both, he wasn't particularly needed . The martial god of scraps enjoyed a great deal of power in the heavens, and he considered himself friends with some influential people there, but they had Pei Ming, Feng Xin, Mu Qing, Quan Yizhen, and Lang Qianqiu for any martial requirements, Ling Wen's brilliance for the civil aspect, and Yushi Huang was proving her promise as a royal by serving as the temporary lord of the heavens, though she had declined the title of emperor.
It suited Xie Lian well enough to go about the world collecting scraps, but when a mission did come his way…
"Ah, San Lang, San Lang, isn't this fun after all?" he says, idly strolling at his beloved's side, another brand new hat seated on his brow, silk blowing off the sides, guarding his skin from the harsh sun as if he were still some spoiled prince. Above them the sky is blue and clear, and around them the world is bright and green.
"En." Hua Cheng croons, a wry smile twisting his lips, his eye fixed on Xie Lian's face. "Of course it's fun to wander with gege. It's only, this San Lang could have sworn that gege said something about a vacation rather than business."
"Ah, haha," Xie Lian waves a hand before his face, then hurries a few steps forward to inspect a handsome, twisted pine tree at a fork in the mountainous forest's road. "Well, that is, since the mission was in the direction already…"
"If gege wants to do it, of course it's fine," Hua Cheng notes. "Only, can't this ghost king request some compensation for his trouble?"
Hands wrap around Xie Lian's sides, broad and strong, squeezing at waist. A gentle tug pulls his hips back, rubbing against—
"Ah," Xie Lian gasps, reaching out and grabbing at the pine tree before him, anchoring himself there as Hua Cheng's true form looms behind him, pressing against him and crowding him against the tree, pinning him in place with his body, already starting to burn hot rather than cold.
"San—San Lang," Xie Lian gasps, wiggling in a way he knows riles Hua Cheng up—playing pretend at trying to wriggle free. "Anyone might see…"
"They might," Hua Cheng purrs, leaning closer to bite at Xie Lian's earlobe.
"Hey, excuse me!" calls a voice from in the forest.
Xie Lian jolts, then straightens quickly, accidentally tossing Hua Cheng off as if they really were grappling.
A young man with dark hair and grey eyes waves at him from the forest, his dark robes indecently open, pulled askew to display a wide expanse of his chest. Familiar marks are bruising red up his chest and over his throat.
"If you don't mind, my husband and I are already using this part of the forest!" the young man calls. "I don't mind, but Lan Zhan's a little shy about sharing!"
"Wei Ying!" barks a voice from deeper in the forest, repressive but also bright with mortification.
Xie Lian laughs, half hysterically, and waves his hands frantically before him. "We weren't—I wasn't—that is—Ah, doesn't it look like rain!? We should—We were just leaving!"
Dark power seems to be coiling around Hua Cheng, though, so Xie Lian quickly pats his back a few times, rubbing like his mother once did until his beloved lets out a puff of breath and turns away with a scowl.
"Thanks!" the man—Wei Ying apparently—calls out with a cheerful wave of both hands. They appear to be bound with a length of white ribbon. "Next forest is all yours, promise!"
Xie Lian grabs Hua Cheng's wrist to drag him past quickly before anything else mortifying can escape his lips or the other man's.
He doesn't even think to wonder about how quiet his usually sharp-tongued san Lang was through the whole confrontation until well after they're settled into the barn he requested to stay in rather than one of the expensive inns. (He always feels too bad about ruining the sheets!)
He wakes very, very late at night, with the moonlight only distantly kissing their resting place through the open barn windows. A faint, refreshing breeze is drifting through them, carrying the trilling melody of a dizi somewhere in the distance.
San Lang is not beside him.
Xie Lian rises in careful, silent motions, and looks down to his finger. The red thread gleams there, even in the dark, and when he tugs lightly on the string with his spiritual power, it flares to life, trailing out the barn doors then curving directly upwards.
On the roof, Hua Cheng is standing sentinel, his eye fixed in the distance and his head cocked to listen. Xie Lian makes his steps silent as he approaches.
"Resentful energy," Hua Cheng notes quietly. "Someone is playing to the corpses. Calling up ghosts. And then—here, listen."
The dizi quiets, and a guqin thrums in the empty space it leaves. Xie Lian steps closer, gazing out in the same direction as his beloved.
"There's spiritual power in that," he notes.
"Inquiry," Hua Cheng explains. "A good enough player can force a spirit not only to answer their questions, but to tell only the truth."
"How good is the player?"
"Excellent. Any ghost weaker than a wraith wouldn't stand a chance of resisting."
"Can you tell what they're asking?"
Hua Cheng waves a hand, gesturing expansively. "Banal things. Who are you. How did you die. Dull, human questions."
"Mortals," Xie Lian notes, watching his husband watch the distance. It's rare to see Hua Cheng look at something else. Xie Lian treasures those moments, getting to see his husband attentive and focused. More often than not, all Hua Cheng focuses on is him. It's a gift, to see his eye go sharp and clever.
"They're already investigating, gege," Hua Cheng notes in what definitely isn't a petulant whine. "Can't we just leave it to them?"
"Ah, San Lang," Xie Lian croons "You know, this request came to one of our temples."
Hua Cheng's nose wrinkles, but he smirks immediately after. He can never seem to make up his mind, whether he enjoys being worshipped at Xie Lian's side, or finds it insulting to his beloved god. If Xie Lian had to guess (and he does, Hua Cheng won't tell him anything other than: "They should learn to sculpt you better."), he would say Hua Cheng likes the thought of them together, but balks at being prayed to in the same breath as his god.
Nevermind that his intervention is likely all that's saved Xie Lian's poor worshippers from a tragic fate…
The dizi cries out, high and piercing—almost painful. Xie Lian winces, and watches Hua Cheng lean away from the sound, only for a breath of a moment, before he huffs and turns his back on the forest.
"Should we find them?" Xie Lian asks. "They might have some important clues for us to start with, and I might be able to encourage them to leave it to us."
"They're finishing," Hua Cheng replies. "That was a banishment. Better to find them in town tomorrow. Shouldn't be hard to track down cultivators of that level. Not to mention one wrapped up in resentful energy."
But though Hua Cheng said they were done, the sound of the guqin rose in the darkness again, and the dizi followed it—twining together under the moonlight. There was no spiritual power that he could detect in the playing this time, but he felt something familiar regardless. Something like a swordfight that leaves one breathless, a confused joy that edges on panic…A long, endless year of waiting.
"Gege?" Hua Cheng calls.
"Can we listen for a while?" Xie Lian asks, reaching out to catch Hua Cheng's fingers in his own, their red threads tangling.
The ghost king steps closer rather than answering, tucking his head into Xie Lian's hair and breathing deep.
They stand together in the night, and Xie Lian tries with all his might to remember lanterns and the happiest day of his life, rather than the endless, agonizing year of uncertainty before it.
"Children love Xiao Hua," Hua Cheng notes plaintively.
"Does "Xiao Hua" love children?" Xie Lian teases in reply. "Because if I remember correctly they have a tendency to annoy him."
"If gege is there it hardly matters," Hua Cheng mutters, scuffing his boot in the dirt like the spoiled young master he's dressed as for the day.
"If San Lang gets lonely, you always know where to find me," Xie Lian offers, warmed as ever by San Lang's unwillingness to part. "But splitting up will let us learn more quickly, and get back to enjoying our vacation. Right? It won't be for long."
Hua Cheng sighs deeply, a sound of deep, aching displeasure.
"The point isn't how long. It's you going."
No, Xie Lian thinks. No, it's how long. It's me barely standing one year while you had to wait 800. It matters. It's different. I'll go mad if you leave for too long. I'll go mad, so I have to try. I have to practice. I have to get used to it again.
"Have a drink or two," Xie Lian suggests, warm and soft. "Butter up the owner. Maybe start a game, if they're amenable to gambling. But be careful, San Lang. Until we know who those cultivators are particularly. They might be involved in all this."
"If gege thinks it's dangerous, then we should definitely stay together." Hua Cheng says, a greedy glint in his dark eyes.
"San Lang," Xie Lian scolds, pinching his cheek lightly. "I'll be with you before you know it."
"I'll know it every moment you aren't there," Hua Cheng promises, and leans in to claim a kiss.
It's hard to leave him, so Xie Lian makes himself do it quickly. A press of his hand to Hua Cheng's cheek, a warm smile, and then a sharp cutoff, turning away and waving over his shoulder. He doesn't look back, though he aches to.
If he turns away and Hua Cheng isn't there, it will devastate him.
It isn't hard to find the children of the village. They're a noisy cluster just off the main road, wealthy and ragged alike, all huddled around a tall man in white robes. Xie Lian slows his steps, watching closely. The prayers had been non-specific, and heaven's scouts had yet to track whether the heart eater Xie Lian had been sent to apprehend was human, ghost, creature, spirit, or sickness. The man among the children looks out of place not just in this small town, but among mortals at all. He all but glows with spiritual energy, and his face is so calm and remote as to lend him an air of detachment xie Lian rarely sees even among the ascended.
But his hands, when he doles out treats to the children, are gentle and fair. As he is bombarded with questions and explanations, his calm never wavers, save for the soft upturn of a smile at the corner of his lips.
Xie Lian waits, calm and patient, until the man sends the children away with a gesture, all of them whooping in delight and at once casting about for sticks to use as false swords, some even untying ribbons from their clothes to band about their heads in imitation of their new idol.
Ruoye quivers jealously against Xie Lian's forearm.
The stranger turns to Xie Lian, tall and upright almost to the point of appearing rigid. If Xie Lian hadn't just watched him indulge a hoard of rowdy youths with quiet tales of cultivation and small sweets, he would have doubted there was an inch of warmth in the man at all.
"Good afternoon, master cultivator," Xie Lian greets with a pleasant bow.
The bow is returned, formal and perfect, but not without an edge of skepticism.
"Daozhang," the man says, and no more after that. His voice is deep and quiet.
"I have a feeling we may be here for the same reason," Xie Lian offers, spreading his hands invitingly. "Would you be interested in working together? The faster we solve the problem, the safer the townspeople will be."
For a long moment, the man in white simply observes him in return. His gaze is calm and focused, his expression unreadable. Xie Lian's smile doesn't waver—he's faced down far scarier stares in his time. There seems to be no hostility in the man's gaze—only consideration.
"We will ask my husband," the man says at last, firm and decided.
Xie Lian's lips part softly, and he drags in a breath. He hadn't thought—there hadn't been—In heaven it has always seemed like—
"Your husband," he whispers, awed, and the man's gaze frosts over with threat.
"My partner. My soulmate. My husband." he repeats, firm in a way that feels edged with danger.
"Congratulations," Xie Lian breathes, something unspeakable welling in his chest—something like joy, and wanting, and sorrow, and freedom. Something like he felt when he crushed the heavenly emperor against his chest, and rejected the last dregs of the miserable fate planned for him.
The stranger's expression thaws again, settling into emptiness once more.
"Mn." he replies with a nod, then turns and walks away.
Xie Lian follows, feeling dazed, hearing in his mind that deep voice saying 'husband,' 'soulmate', 'partner.' It echoes a low voice of his own murmuring "beloved, beloved, my noble, gracious, special someone."
The largest winehouse in town has a suspiciously large crowd outside, and a harried staff member frantically shooing them away.
"If you aren't here to drink, then go!" the woman is scolding, gesturing sharply with a square of cloth at the men hovering near the entrance.
"Master cultivators!" a man in the crowd ries, and all eyes turn their way. The cultivator in white doesn't react, his head high and his posture unbending. Xie Lian smiles gently in his stead and lifts a hand in greeting.
"Has something gone wrong?"
"There are demons drinking within," an elder announces, gripping his cane tightly with a fiery look in his eyes. It reminds Xie Lian of the look Shi Qingxuan still gets when there's good gossip to be had, and he smiles warmly at both the words and the reminder.
"I see. I certainly hope these demons are paying their tab respectfully."
"Better than this lot!' barks the employee. "Now all of you, get moving!"
"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!" a voice sings out from the balcony of the building, and the whole crowd surges back like a tide to see. Leaning over the rail is a young man with a familiar face, though his clothes are thankfully in better order, at least for the moment.
"Wei Ying," greets the cultivator in white, lifting his head to gaze at the young man in black as if he were the moon in the sky.
"What are you standing around outside for, hurry up and come in! Ah, I need your money pouch too, I'm trying to outdrink my new friend here!"
"Mm," the man—apparently 'Lan Zhan'— replies affably, and drifts past the woman in the doorway like a cloud moving over a mountain.
"Excuse me young master," Xie Lian calls up, dipping into a salute. "Would the man you're challenging happen to be a handsome youth in red?"
In return, the bright-eyed Wei Ying breaks into a cheeky grin, and gives a salute of his own in return. It's very proper, only made foolish by his sly grin and the cup of wine he's still holding.
"Why Daozhang, he may need you here to perform last rites when I drink him under the table! You'd better come in too!"
Inside, only a few tables are seated, and all on the bottom floor. They cast suspicious glances towards the stairs, even as Lan Zhan ascends them, robes flowing as if he were the god. Xie Lian stifles a chuckle at the sight. The young truly carry such weight on their shoulders!
Upstairs, there is only one table seated, in the middle of the restaurant. Amid the green and brown decor they make a striking picture of red and black.
San Lang is always beautiful—always the center of Xie Lian's attention—but it's rare to see him like this: seated with a stranger in a winehouse rather than presiding over a room of worshipful denizens or seated at Xie Lians side in one of their homes. The rarity makes the moment precious, in a way. Xie Lian stands at the top of the stairs, watching as San Lang tilts his head back in a long swallow of liquor that leaves a translucent line of liquid from the corner of his lips, over his jaw, down his throat, to settle in between the lapels of his robes.
When Hua Cheng turns and looks, it's with a smug glow in San Lang's eyes.
"Lan er-gege, what took you so long?" asks the man in black robes where he's splayed across the table from San Lang. "Have you already been entranced by some young trollop? Ah, all the maidens tell me one has to keep their husband in sight, and yet you wander away from me with barely a word, so early in the mornings, when the sun is merely halfway through the sky."
"Husband," Lan Zhan greets in return, and the man in black immediately stutters over his own dramatic monologue, before splitting into a bright, wild grin.
Husband Xie Lian thinks, watching the cultivator sweep closer—watching him bend, and grip the base of Wei Ying's ponytail, and kiss him, right there, in broad daylight, in the center of the tea shop.
Husband, he thinks, looking to San Lang and the way he's side-eying the pair, fiddling with his teacup in one hand and the red pearl with his other.
"Husband," Xie Lian calls aloud, soft and low, just to see.
Hua Cheng jolts to attention, all the way to his feet, his eyes flying wide and fixing on Xie Lian. His posture is, if not rigid, at least very proper. The most proper Xie Lian has seen him since the last time guoshi came to visit. It fills him with a fondness so deep and abiding it reminds him of poisoned silver, digging down to the heart of him. He approaches his beloved slowly, meeting his gaze all the way.
Even if these two men have no new information about the prayers in this town, Xie Lian feels he has something to learn from them. He reaches out for Hua Cheng's hand as he approaches and holds tight. Hua Cheng's eyes are fixed on him, intense and wild rather than listless as they have been. Husband, Xie Lian thinks, even as Wei Ying starts chattering again to his Lan Zhan.
The word feels right.