Chapter Text
The first thing Xie Lian noticed upon his third ascension to the heavens was that absolutely nothing had changed. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He had changed. Eight hundred years of wandering the mortal realm as a scrap collector tended to do that to a person, even an immortal one. But the heavens themselves? The grand palace of the Heavenly Capital? The Communication Array? All exactly as he remembered.
Xie Lian stood at the center of the Ascension Platform, still dizzy from the journey between realms, and tried not to think about the fact that the last time he'd been here, he'd been unceremoniously kicked out. Well, "unceremoniously" might be generous. There has been quite a bit of a ceremony involved, actually. Shouting. Accusations. Someone had thrown a ceremonial incense burner at his head. Good times.
"His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince of Xianle, had ascended.
The announcement rang through the Communication Array, and Xie Lian winced. He'd hoped (foolishly, perhaps) that thy might have updated his title in the past eight hundred years. Something more accurate. "His Royal Highness, the Scrap Collecting Immortal" had a nice ring to it. Or perhaps "His Royal Highness, Please Stop Ascending, We're Running Out of Palaces to Destroy."
The chiming of the bells ceased abruptly, replaced by silence so profound that Xie Lian could hear his own breathing. Then, chaos.
"WHAT?"
"Not HIM again!"
"Didn't we just get rid of him?"
"That was eight hundred years ago, Feng-"
"I DON'T CARE IF IT WAS EIGHT THOUSAND YEARS AGO, HE'S BACK!"
Xie Lian sighed and adjusted his bamboo hat. At least some things never changed. Feng Xin's voice was still capable of shattering glass, apparently.
The Communication Array, a cast network of spiritual channels that allowed gods to communicate across the heavens, was already lighting up like festival lanterns. Xie Lian could feel the weight of thousands of spiritual consciousnesses pressing against the edge of the space, all of them clamoring to get a look at the spectacle. Because that's what he was, wasn't he? A spectacle. The god who'd ascended twice and fallen twice, now back for round three. Third time's a charm, as they say in the mortal realm. Or third strike and you're out. Xie Lian wasn't entirely sure which applied here.
"Your Royal Highness." A calm voice cut through, and Xie Lian looked up to see a figure materializing on the platform before him. The woman was tall and elegant, dressed in pristine white robes with silver embroidery that probably cost more than most mortal kingdoms' annual revenues. Her face was beautiful in a cold way, and her eyes held the warmth of a lake in winter.
Ling Wen, the goddess in charge of absolutely everything administrative in the heavenly realms. If the heavens had a beating heart, it was probably buried somewhere under the mountain of paperwork on Ling Wen's desk.
"Civil Goddess Ling Wen," Xie Lian said, bowing politely. "It's been a while."
"Eight hundred years," Ling Wen agreed, returning the bow. Her expression didn't change, but Xie Lian thought he detected a faint note of exhaustion in her voice. "Welcome back to the heavens, Your Royal Highness. I trust your journey was... uneventful?"
"Very," Xie Lian lied. The journey had actually involved a rather unfortunate incident with a possessed ox cart and a village of very angry farmers, but that seemed like the sort of thing one didn't mention during official heavenly greetings.
"Excellent." Ling Wen produced a scroll from thin air, unrolling it with a flick of her wrist. "Now, as a newly ascended, or rather, re-ascended, god, there are certain formalities we must observe. First, you'll need to register with the Palace of Divine Might for your official heavenly credentials. Second, you'll need to submit a formal petition for a palace assignment, though I should warn you that the waiting list is currently-"
"Seventeen thousand years long," Xie Lian finished. "I remember."
Ling Wen's eyebrow twitched. It was the most emotion Xie Lian had seen from her so far. "Sixteen thousand, actually. We've made progress."
"How encouraging."
"Thirdly," Ling Wen continued, ignoring the interruption, "you'll need to report to the Communication Array for your official introduction to the current pantheon. There have been... several changed since your last residence here."
Xie Lian nodded. Eight hundred years was a long time, even for gods. New ascensions, new alliances, new feuds. The heavenly realm was nothing if not dramatic.
"And finally," Ling Wen said, her voice taking on what might have been sympathy, "you should be aware that your previous... incidents... are still widely remembered. I would recommend maintaining a low profile until-"
"XIE LIAN!"
So much for a low profile.
The voice that bellowed across the Communication Array was familiar in the way that childhood nightmares were familiar, something that you thought you'd forgotten until it came roaring back in the middle of the night. Xie Lian turned slowly, already knowing what he'd see. A figure was striding across the platform toward him, and "striding" was really the only word for it. This wasn't walking. This was the aggressive movement of someone who had eight hundred years of grievances to air out and absolutely no patience of pleasantries. Feng Xin. Martial God of the Southeast. General of the Southeast Heavenly Army. Xie Lian's former bodyguard.
"Feng Xin," Xie Lian said pleasantly. "You're looking well."
It was true. Feng Xin looked exactly as he had eight hundred years ago. Tall, muscular, with broad shoulders. His face was handsome, and his hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. He also looked absolutely furious.
"Don't you 'you're looking well' me," Feng Xin snarled, jabbing a finger in Xie Lian's direction. "What the fuck are you doing back here?"
"Ascending?" Xie Lian offered. "I thought that was fairly obvious."
"You-" Feng Xin's face was turning an interesting shade of red. "You can't just- After everything- Do you have any idea what-"
"General Nan Yang." Ling Wen's voice was sharp. "Please remember that we are in the formal ascension platform. Decorum is expected."
"Decorum?" Feng Xin whirled on Ling Wen. "He destroyed half the heavenly palaces last time he was here! He-"
"A quarter of them," Xie Lian corrected mildly.
"Oh, well, only a quarter-"
"And technically, one could argue that the destruction was caused by the angry mob chasing me, not by me personally-"
"Because YOU caused the angry mob!"
"That seems like a rather reductive interpretation of events-"
"ENOUGH!"
The new voice that cut through their argument was cold. A second figure materialized on the platform, and Xie Lian felt his stomach sink just a little bit further.
Mu Qing. Martial God of the Southwest. Xie Lian's former attendant.
If Feng Xin looked like he'd stepped off a battlefield, Mu Qing looked like he'd stepped out of a painting. His robes were immaculate, and not a single hair was out of place. His face was beautiful, all elegant bones. Where Feng Xin was fire, Mu Qing was ice. And right now, that ice was directed entirely at Xie Lian.
"Your Royal Highness," Mu Qing said, and somehow he made the title sound like and insult. "How... unexpected."
"General Xuan Zhen," Xie Lian replied with a bow. "You look well also."
"I was," Mu Qing said flatly. "And then you showed up."
Feng Xin snorted. "For once, we agree on something."
Mu Qing's expression soured immediately. "Don't lump me in with you. I have actual reasons for my objections, not just mindless loyalty to a fallen kingdom.
"Mindless-"
And they were off, bickering like, well, like Feng Xin and Mu Qing. Some things, Xie Lian reflected, truly never changed. Eight hundred years, and the two of them still fought like cats.
Ling Wen pinched the bridge of her nose. "Generals. Please."
"He started it," Feng Xin growled.
"I started- you're the one who came charging over here like a bull with a wasp up its ass-"
"My ass is wasp-free, thanks for your concern-"
"Could have fooled me with the way you're acting-"
"If we could perhaps focus," Ling Wen said, her voice tight, "on the matter at hand? His Royal Highness needs to complete his registration and receive his first assignment."
That made both the generals pause. They turned to look at Xie Lian with matching expression of horror.
"Assignment? Feng Xin repeated. "You're giving him an assignment?"
"He's a newly ascended god," Ling Wen said. "Of course he needs an assignment. Or would you prefer he simply wander the heavens unsupervised?"
From the look on Feng Xin's face he wasn't sure which option was worse.
"What kind of assignment?" Mu Qing asked suspiciously.
Ling Wen consulted her scroll. "There are several minor issues in the mortal realm that require divine intervention. A spirit possession in the north, a drought in the south, a-"
"Give him something far away," Feng Xin interrupted. "Very far away. The mortal realm is big. Put him on the other side of it."
"I'm standing right here," Xie Lian pointed out.
"I'm aware," Feng Xin said flatly. "Believe me, I'm very aware."
Xie Lian sighed. This was going about as well as expected, which was to say, terribly. He'd known coming back to the heavens would be awkward (how could it not be, given their history?), but he'd hoped that eight hundred years might have dulled the edges of their animosity. Apparently not.
"If I may make a suggestion," Xie Lian said, "perhaps something small and simple? I don't want to cause any trouble-"
"Too late," Mu Qing muttered.
"-and I'm pretty sure there are plenty of minor tasks that need handling. An investigation, perhaps? Or escorting a soul to the afterlife? I'm not picky."
Ling Wen looked at him for a long moment, and Xie Lian had the distinct impression he was being evaluated. Finally, she nodded.
"Very well. There is a matter in the northwest that requires investigation. A small mountain village has reported unusual spiritual activity. Objects moving on their own, strange noises at night, the usual poltergeist behavior. It should be straightforward enough."
"Perfect," Xie Lian said, relieved. A simple haunting. Nothing that could possibly go wrong.
"However," Ling Wen continued, "given your... history... it would be prudent to assign you an escort. Someone to ensure that the situation doesn't escalate beyond-"
"No," Feng Xin said immediately.
"Absolutely not," Mu Qing agreed.
"I wasn't asking you to volunteer," Ling Wen said. "I was going to assign one of the junior officials."
"And have them report back that Xie Lian destroyed another village?" Feng Xin shook his head. "No way. If someone's going with him, it should be someone who can actually keep him in check."
"I don't need to be 'kept in check,'" Xie Lian protested. "I'm perfectly capable of handling a simple investigation on my own."
All three of them looked at him.
"I am," he insisted.
More staring.
"I've been in the mortal realm for eight hundred years. I know how to handle spiritual disturbances."
The staring intensified.
"Fine," Xie Lian sighed. "You can send an escort if it makes you feel better. But I really don't think it's necessary."
"I'll go," Feng Xin said abruptly.
Everyone turned to look at him in surprise, Xie Lian included. Feng Xin was glaring at the ground, his jaw clenched tight, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in the universe.
"You?" Mu Qing said incredulously. "You hate him."
"I don't-" Feng Xin cut himself off, scowl deepening. "It's not about hate. It's about responsibility. Someone needs to make sure he doesn't fuck everything up, and it might as well be me."
"How noble," Mu Qing said dryly. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with your pathetic lingering loyalty to-"
"Shut up, Mu Qing."
"-a kingdom that's been dust for eight centuries-"
"I said shut up-"
"Gentlemen," Ling Wen interjected, "as touching as this display is, I need to finalize the assignment. General Nan Yang, if you're volunteering to escort His Royal Highness, I'll make a note in the records. You'll depart at first light tomorrow, which gives you both time to prepare. The village is called Puqi, and the local reports suggest the haunting has been ongoing for approximately two weeks."
Xie Lian nodded, committing the information to memory. Puqi Village. Northwest region. Two weeks of supernatural activity. Simple enough.
"Any questions?" Ling Wen asked.
"Just one," Xie Lian said. "Where exactly am I supposed to stay tonight? You mentioned the palace waiting list was rather long..."
Ling Wen's expression flickered. "Ah. Yes. About that. Officially, you won't have a palace assigned for at least several centuries. However, there are... temporary accommodations available for newly ascended gods. They're not luxurious, but they're functional."
"I'm sure they'll be fine," Xie Lian said. After eight hundred years of sleeping in abandoned temples, ditches, and occasionally demon lairs, his standards for accommodations had become remarkably flexible.
"They're in the Disgraced Palace Quarter," Mu Qing said, and there was something almost gleeful in his tone. "Where all fallen gods live before they're formally stripped of their divinity."
Xie Lian felt his smile freeze on his face. "I see."
"It's temporary," Ling Wen said quickly. "Once you've completed a few assignments and proven your stability-"
"It's fine," Xie Lian interrupted. "I understand. The Disgraced Palace Quarter it is."
Of course he'd end up there. Where else would the god who'd fallen from grace twice be housed? It was poetic, really. Depressing, but poetic.
Ling Wen looked like she wanted to say something else, but she simply nodded and made a notation on her scroll. "Very well. I'll have someone show you to your quarters. In the meantime, please refrain from-"
"Destroying things, starting riots, or generally causing chaos," Xie Lian finished. "I remember the rules."
"Good." Ling Wen rolled up her scroll and tucked it away. "Then I'll leave you to settle in. General Nan Yang, report to the Palace of Divine Might at dawn tomorrow for your assignment briefing. Your Royal Highness, welcome back to the heavens. Try not to break anything."
With that, Ling Wen vanished in a shimmer of silver light, leaving Xie Lian alone on the platform with Feng Xin and Mu Qing.
"So," Xie Lian said eventually. "This is awkward."
"You think?" Feng Xin bit out.
Mu Qing said nothing, but his expression spoke volumes. He looked at Xie Lian like he was a discordant note in an otherwise perfect symphony. Xie Lian had been looked at many ways over the past eight hundred years, with fear, with pity, with contempt, with hunger, with desperation. But this look, from someone who had once known him so well, hurt in a way he hadn't quite anticipated.
"I should go," Xie Lian said quietly. "I'm sure you both have better things to do than stand here glaring at me."
"Wait," Feng Xin said, just as Xie Lian turned to leave. When Xie Lian looked back, Feng Xin was frowning, his arms crossed over his chest. "Just... don't cause trouble, all right? I know you don't mean to, but trouble seems to follow you like a starving dog. So just... keep your head down. Do the assignment. Stay out of everyone's way."
It wasn't kind, but it wasn't entirely unkind either. Xie Lian recognized it for what it was: Feng Xin's version of concern, buried under eight hundred years of anger and hurt and disappointment.
"I'll do my best," Xie Lian promised.
Feng Xin grunted and vanished in a flash of crimson light. That left just Mu Qing, who was still watching Xie Lian with that inscrutable expression.
"Mu Qing-" Xie Lian began.
"Don't," Mu Qing said sharply. "Don't say whatever you're about to say. We're not friends, Your Royal Highness. We're not even acquaintances. You're a job risk and a political liability, and I want nothing to do with you. The only reason I'm not actively campaigning to have you expelled from the heavens is because it would be too much paperwork. So do us both a favor and stay the hell away from me."
The words landed like physical blows, but Xie Lian kept his expression neutral. He'd had eight hundred years to develop a thick skin, and Mu Qing's vitriol was hardly the worst thing he'd endured.
"Understood," Xie Lian said simply.
Mu Qing studied him for a moment longer, something complicated flickering across his face. Then he, too, vanished, leaving Xie Lian alone on the Ascension Platform. Xie Lian stood there, surrounded by clouds and marble and the fading light of the setting sun, and wondered, not for the first time, if ascending had been a mistake. But then again, it wasn't like he'd had much choice in the matter. When you accumulated enough spiritual energy and merit, ascension happened whether you wanted it to or not. And despite everything, despite the broken bridges and burned palaces and centuries of bad blood, there was a part of Xie Lian that was glad to be back. This had been his home once. Before the fall, before the failures, before everything went wrong. Maybe, he thought, he could make it his home again. Or maybe he'd just set something else on fire and get kicked out for a third time. Only one way to find out. With a sigh, Xie Lian adjusted his hat and started walking toward the Disgraced Palace Quarter. He had a feeling it was going to be a very long night.
The Disgraced Palace Quarter was exactly as depressing as it sounded. Located on the outermost edge of the heavenly realm, far from the glittering Divine Capital and the pristine palaces of the high gods, it was a collection of crumbling buildings and weed-choked courtyards that looked like they'd been forgotten by time itself. The spiritual energy here was stale, nothing like the vibrant, pulsing power that flowed through the rest of the heavens. It was perfect, really. A physical manifestation of divine failure.
Xie Lian's "temporary accommodations" turned out to be a tiny shrine at the very end of a narrow street. It was barely larger than a storage closet, with walls that were more hole than wall and a floor that had apparently decided to become a garden at some point in the distant past. There was a single mat in the corner that might have once been used for sleeping, and a broken statue of some long-forgotten god that looked like it had been used for target practice.
"Home sweet home," Xie Lian murmured.
He set down his meager belongings, a worn bundle containing a change of clothes, a few rice cakes he'd been saving, and his sword Fangxin, wrapped carefully in oiled cloth, and looked around the space. With a little work, it could be... well, it could be slightly less terrible.
He spent the next hour cleaning. Sweeping out the debris, patching the worst of the holes in the walls with spare wood and prayers. It was familiar work, comfortable even. He'd fixed up dozens of ruined shrines over the centuries, turning them into temporary homes before moving on to the next disaster.
By the time the moon rose, the shrine looked marginally better. Not good, certainly, but inhabitable. Xie Lian sat down on the mat, pulled out one of his rice cakes, and allowed himself a moment of exhaustion.
His third ascension. Gods above and below, he was back in the heavens. He should probably feel something about that, triumph, perhaps, or vindication. Look at me, he could say to all the gods who'd mocked him. I fell twice and I still came back. But mostly he just felt tired. Tired, and strangely empty, like there was a hollow space inside his chest where something important used to be. He'd carried it with him through eight hundred years of wandering, that hollow space, and ascending hadn't filled it. If anything, being back in the heavens made it more noticeable, a stark reminder of everything he'd lost. His kingdom. His parents. His purpose. The people he'd loved.
Xie Lian shook his head, banishing the thoughts. Nostalgia was a dangerous indulgence for someone like him. The past was dead and buried, and dwelling on it wouldn't change anything.
He finished his rice cake, wrapped himself in his robe, and lay down on the mat. Somewhere out there was Puqi Village, waiting for him to investigate their haunting. His first real task as a god in eight centuries. He should probably be nervous. Or excited. Or something. Instead, he just felt that same bone-deep exhaustion.
One day at a time, he told himself. Just take it one day at a time.
It was the same advice he'd given himself for eight hundred years, and it had gotten him this far. No reason to stop now. With that thought, Xie Lian closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.
He didn't dream. He never dreamed anymore. But if he had, he might have dreamed of a child with bright eyes and a tattered red cloth. A child who'd looked at him like he was something worth believing in, back when Xie Lian had still believed in himself. A child named Hong-er, who'd disappeared into history eight hundred years ago, leaving nothing behind but memories and regrets. But Xie Lian didn't dream, so he didn't see the way the shadows in his shrine shifted and moved, like something was watching him sleep.
He didn't hear the soft sound of footsteps outside, or the quiet voice that whispered: "Found you, gege."