Chapter Text
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“San Lang, San Lang! Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Xie Lian’s worried face swam in front of Hua Cheng’s eyes. The look of concern was like a shard of ice through his heart; with some help, he sat up in the bed, propping himself against the pillows.
“Don’t worry, gege,” he said, through chattering teeth. “I just caught a chill, it’s nothing.”
“A chill?” Feeling for a pulse point, Xie Lian furrowed his brow. “You’re a ghost, why would you get cold…”
Another round of shivering made Hua Cheng lose his balance, the arms propping him up folding like jelly. He sank into the pillows. This alarmed Xie Lian even more.
“I’ll get you hot water,” he said quickly, and slipped off the bed.
Despite his languid look and half-lidded eyes, Hua Cheng watched him go with something like panic. Wait, wait!, something inside was wailing. Your Highness, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me…
The shivering seemed to crush inward, until it felt like his heart was shaking, too. Hua Cheng tried to sit up, but he was dizzy and soft. His face was so hot that it nearly forced out tears.
He’d known this had been building up for a while; he just hadn’t thought it would hit so suddenly.
Still, to say that it happened without warning would be somewhat of a stretch.
🦪
When Hua Cheng had finally clawed himself back into his form, gathering himself up from mere scraps on the edge of the abyss—finding himself panting, face down in the volcanic dust of Mount Tonglu—he had immediately realized a problem.
For the first time in centuries, he was weak.
Spiritual energy couldn’t be siphoned up overnight; even infinite love wasn’t infinite power. When Hua Cheng sat up, still shaky like a newborn animal, he’d immediately reached deep inside to see how much power he had left—and felt his heart sink.
All in all, it just wasn’t very much. It was barely enough to keep such a complicated form steady; it wasn’t nearly enough to reliably protect Xie Lian. What’s more, it was worse than when he’d been stuck in his child form. After all, even when he’d been small enough to perch on Xie Lian’s arm, there had still been a reserve of power waiting to be freed deep underneath. This was different.
It wasn’t like he couldn’t get it back. It would take time, that was all. But even as Hua Cheng told that to himself, tried to reassure himself, he still shook.
In a state like this, how could he not remember being a helpless little ghost fire?
If he’d been truly responsible, truly rational, he knew he should’ve stayed in Mount Tonglu longer after gathering his form. With another year of waiting and working hard, he might have recovered at least halfway to his old potential.
But he couldn’t wait, not while someone was waiting for him too.
🦪
He managed to hide the weakness well enough for the first day.
It hadn’t been all that difficult. After all, following that initial tackle from Xie Lian, Hua Cheng had spent the whole night getting embraced and cried onto, then stuffed with oddly-made food, then cried onto all over again, then fallen asleep onto, then stuffed with food all over again. In short—much like a lost cat getting found again by an overindulgent owner—Hua Cheng was smug as could be, coddled and showered with love. Who knew it would only take one day to spoil him absolutely rotten?
Finally, though, Xie Lian got worn out; he ended up on the flimsy little bed in the cottage, sprawled over Hua Cheng, fast asleep.
Hua Cheng played for his hair for a bit, twirling it, resisting the desire to nudge Xie Lian awake again. At last, with a sigh, he untangled himself and went to the kitchen. After all, Xie Lian would need breakfast when he woke up.
So Hua Cheng went to the counter, glowing with pleasure when he picked up a sack of rice and a pot. The mere thought of being able to do something for Xie Lian again made him so excited that his heart raced.
There was a little hint of exhaustion tingling in the tips of his fingers, but he ignored it.
He didn’t need to pay attention to that, not with the reward ahead—this warm and safe time, this treasured activity that soothed both heart and mind. Hua Cheng settled into a comfortable rhythm as he worked. His head was full of the little god in the adjacent room. From now on, he would be able to make food for Xie Lian all the time, just like this. He would be able to see him all the time, serve him all the time. His eyes would be full of him and nothing else. And maybe, just maybe—
“San Lang?” came a voice from the door.
In the instant that Hua Cheng turned around, he was stunned by the sight before him. Xie Lian was standing sleepily at the entrance of the kitchen, rubbing half-shut eyes with one hand, endearing to the utmost.
Hua Cheng’s heart swelled up to the point of bursting. “Gege, go rest,” he coaxed. “I’m making you something to eat.”
“Mm?” Blinking the mist from his eyes, Xie Lian looked down. “What are you…”
Then, Xie Lian froze suddenly, his eyes flying wide-open with panic.
Hua Cheng tried to hide his arm behind his back, but it was too late; Xie Lian gasped and hurried over. “Your—your hand!”
“Hm?” Hua Cheng gave a warm smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve just been using a little energy, don’t mind it.”
“Don’t mind it?!” Xie Lian spluttered, pulling Hua Cheng’s hand out from behind his back.
His fingers were translucent.
“I’m not going anywhere, believe me,” Hua Cheng kept saying, but Xie Lian was past reassurance. A fine trembling had started up along his arms, reaching his shoulders.
“Stop, stop stop stop stop,” he mumbled finally, pulling away Hua Cheng’s other hand. “Sigh, at least this one’s fine. Really…how could you risk this again?”
“It’s not a risk, gege,” Hua Cheng insisted, putting the half-faded hand on Xie Lian’s shoulder—moving his fingers, letting him feel them press into his skin. “I have plenty of energy to keep me here, right next to you.”
But Xie Lian was clearly shaken. “San Lang, I really can’t…what if I’d come into the kitchen and found—” His voice got all blocked up, and his shoulder slumped. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand, suddenly looking pathetic. “Found a half-made breakfast, but no more you? What would I do? I would go crazy, I—”
“Shhh,” Hua Cheng soothed, wrapping him up in his arms. “I’m sorry for scaring you, I should’ve told you earlier; I just have less energy than usual, that’s all. This is going to be normal for me, just for a little while. Won’t you bear it, gege?”
For a moment, Xie Lian said nothing, and Hua Cheng thought he’d calmed down; but then he pried himself away, and his look hardened to resolve. “No. I won’t bear it.”
“…oh?”
“I can’t have it be like this.”
A little surprised, Hua Cheng looked down at the faulty hand. “I could wear gloves, so it’s not visible. Would that—”
“I still owe you spiritual energy.”
In the next moment, Hua Cheng was being yanked down by the front of his robes and kissed.
Energy flooded in, but Hua Cheng barely paid it any mind. His blood ran hot. Having Xie Lian take initiative like this and pull him down for a kiss, desperately pressing his lips onto his, in this little hut in the middle of the night—didn’t he know he was courting danger?
Hua Cheng wrapped his arms around Xie Lian’s waist and squeezed, even as he lifted his face away. “Gege,” he warned, gazing down. “Be careful. A little more, and you’ll be having something else for breakfast.”
Yet, despite a flustered look, Xie Lian stared at him right back. “It’s not for fun, I’m trying to help you with spiritual energy. This is serious.”
“Mn, I know,” Hua Cheng said, giving him a peck on the lips. “I’m touched by the intent, but it’s best that you keep your energy for yourself. Look.” He held up his hand, still half translucent. “See? It would take much more than what can conveniently be given by kissing—”
“Then I’ll have to give more.”
Before he could even respond, Hua Cheng was being yanked forward by one arm, pulled over a shoulder, and lifted up. He’d been slung over Xie Lian’s back.
For once, Hua Cheng was shocked.
He’d never been handled like this. Maybe only by an enemy, he’d been handled like this, and only because he was being dragged away to get beaten up during a fight. This kind of thing, getting swept up by someone who couldn’t be fought against, being hoisted up like a bundle of hay and taken away for some other purpose—it was completely new. It was stunning, like being punched in the stomach, but somehow also a novelty.
Feeling unusually breathless as Xie Lian began to walk, Hua Cheng gave a few lazy kicks for dramatic effect. “Gege, help,” he complained. “There’s a hungry wolf carrying me off. Also, I wasn’t done with your breakfast. Gege—”
Suddenly, he was falling; he’d been let down onto his back over the simple bed in the cottage, bouncing once. Then:
Red-faced, Xie Lian crawled over him and pressed his lips down.
If Hua Cheng’s blood had simply been hot before, it was now boiling. Gotten tossed onto this bed, which had Xie Lian’s scent all over, and being smothered down to get stuffed full of spiritual energy—it was almost more than he could bear.
Actually, it was more than he could bear. There was a lot more spiritual energy this time. It wasn’t a tingle like before, but rather a hot stream that he could feel all the way down his throat, making his chest burn. In fact, it got a bit uncomfortable; with gentle hands, he nudged Xie Lian up, then caught his breath in his god’s shadow.
“Mn, you’re right, that’s more,” he said pleasantly, once he’d recovered. “In fact, it’s quite a lot. How about we say it’s enough for now? We can still do more kissing, though.”
Flushed, Xie Lian glanced towards the faulty hand. It was still mostly translucent.
Following his gaze, Hua Cheng wiggled his fingers. “It’s not so—”
“Does it really hurt that much?” Xie Lian fumbled out. “Getting spiritual energy?”
Hearing the worry in his voice, Hua Cheng relented. “Just a little, it’s not bad.”
“…” Xie Lian stared down at him; his expression was soft and desperate, like a nurse trying to get a child to take medicine. “If…if I give you something sweet after, will you take a little more?”
Of course Hua Cheng would let him, but he made a show of pouting. “What kind of sweet thing?”
Xie Lian was clearly relieved, seeing an inroad, and his expression grew even softer. “I have some hard sugar candies.”
Seeing Xie Lian coaxing him with candy made Hua Cheng feel dazed, like his head was tingling. “Oh,” he said numbly.
“If you’re good, you can have a few.”
The daze was spreading. Xie Lian was so pretty, looking down at him like this, trapping him in with his arms and legs on the bed, trying to convince him to take a little more hurt. It was the kind of look Hua Cheng could melt under; he felt like he was sinking into the bed. When he spoke, his voice was a touch slurred.
“Hmm. I can try, but I don’t know if I can be good…”
“I’ll help,” Xie Lian mumbled back, then sank down.
Lips touched lips, gentle as could be. This time, Xie Lian was more careful; he kissed normally for a moment before easing the stream of spiritual energy through. No matter how careful he was, though, it grew too hot before long, warming Hua Cheng down to his stomach. Hua Cheng squirmed, making sullen noises into his mouth—
That was when it happened.
Xie Lian reached over and pinned Hua Cheng’s wrists to the bed.
The daze that Hua Cheng had felt before thickened suddenly. He stopped struggling at once, feeling sluggish despite the energy pouring in. On each side of his head, one wrist was trapped by strong but delicate hands and held in place. A hold like this wouldn’t ordinarily be strong enough to stop him, but that wasn’t the point.
It was a reminder, it was a command.
Don’t struggle.
Making a soft sound in the back of his throat, Hua Cheng tensed, then weakened. The spiritual energy pouring in really burned, but it was starting to hurt differently; the fact that it was being inflicted by such a tender, suckling kiss made it calming, like it was cresting over his head and washing away any worry, leaving only the sting of pain and the wash of sweat gathering on his skin. The whole of his body was starting to tingle now. He was being held down in the fire. It was like he was floating—
With a soft click of lips, Xie Lian lifted his head away.
Hua Cheng was left panting shallowly, taking little gasps to cool his throat. His eyes were glazed. His wrists were limp in the hands that restrained them.
Xie Lian spoke first. “Are you okay?”
“Mmm,” Hua Cheng managed. It came out like a whisper. “Thanks, gege. I think you fixed it.”
Indeed he had. The hand was solid now, not one bit transparent. Xie Lian held it for a bit, looking it over with relief, brushing it off like it was some old robe he’d patched up.
The sluggishness still hadn’t left; Hua Cheng laid still on the bed, his hand limp as it was held and inspected. His eyelids felt heavy as he watched.
“Good,” Xie Lian sighed finally, letting it down. “It’s back to normal, good—San Lang, are you really okay?”
Hua Cheng laid still, still dazed, basking in a sort of warmth. It didn’t feel like any other time he’d traded spiritual energy, but he still suggested it: “Don’t worry. It was just a lot of energy to take in, so I’m resting.”
“Then rest,” Xie Lian said, seeming relieved. “I’ll bring you something.”
And so Xie Lian went off, and returned a few minutes later to Hua Cheng much in the same position as before. With gentle hands, he held him sit and coaxed him into taking a few rock candies, then poured him a warm cup of tea. Hua Cheng took the cup and sipped, letting the warm water slowly melt down the candy he held between his teeth.
Next to him, Xie Lian was talking, fussing over him:
“You should really rest a lot more now. If I’d known you didn’t have all your energy back, I definitely wouldn’t have let you run all over; how about you stay in bed tomorrow? I’ll take care of everything for you, as long as you stay right here.”
Hua Cheng gazed at him for a few moments, then squinted into a smile.
“Hmmm,” he said. “I can try my best, but…”
🦪
The game went a little like this.
Every morning, Hua Cheng would wake up in the little cottage with the first few rays of sunlight and birdsong. A quick glance over would confirm that Xie Lian was still asleep; that was good.
Next: without a sound, he would slip out from the covers, then find something to work on. Whether it was making breakfast, or raking leaves, or mending something broken, he would throw himself into his work, spending energy freely. Perhaps a fire was lit under a simmering pot, or a few leaves were blown away.
Then:
Xie Lian would wake up and find him.
“San Lang, you’re not supposed to be up…”
It wasn’t always so easy to find him, though; sometimes Hua Cheng would be behind the cottage, sometimes fixing a tile on the roof, sometimes simply slipping behind a door when he heard Xie Lian’s steps coming. His heart would beat, and a smile would twitch at his lips.
When he was found, he didn’t go quietly. He made a big show out of it, complaining and pulling, acting spoiled; but the harder he fought, the more firmly Xie Lian dragged him away—
And the more firmly he held him down when he kissed him.
Every morning, it went much the same way: he’d be found, lectured at a little, then pinned down by strong hands and crammed full of hot spiritual energy until he was squirming in Xie Lian’s grasp.
Once or twice he’d tapped out, grasping at Xie Lian’s hands so that he’d ease up; when he did, Xie Lian let him, allowing him to rest, and stroked his hair until his breaths had evened out again.
No matter what, whether Hua Cheng had asked for mercy or not, Xie Lian coddled him and fed him after it was finished. If he’d done well, he praised him. The food was always something sweet, fed by hand. Hua Cheng always let the odd, heavy feelings take over—surely, they must be a consequence of the spiritual energy, he told himself—and nestled in the crook of Xie Lian’s arm, watching a gentle hand spoon up something nice.
After that, they went about their day as usual, as though it was the most normal thing in the world, though Xie Lian insisted on not letting him do much work.
That part, Hua Cheng didn’t like as much. He felt tight and wound-up, almost nervous. Not being able to serve Xie Lian was an unpleasant feeling; receiving so much attention from him and not being able to reciprocate was worse. Hua Cheng was acutely aware that he was taking more than he gave.
And Hua Cheng hated being useless.
But when he saw Xie Lian’s face, how he looked so worried every time he saw Hua Cheng exerting himself—what could he do but let himself rest? He’d always do what Xie Lian wanted, after all. This wasn’t a matter of choice.
Then, all at once, it ended.
The whole thing went on for perhaps a little over a week, until one morning Hua Cheng got up to make congee. He was trying to get it done quickly before he was dragged away; he’d almost finished, the consistency was almost perfect, when—
All of a sudden, there were quiet footsteps in the doorway.
Hua Cheng grew still, knowing he’d been caught, knowing what would come next, and ladled up a spoonful to at least give Xie Lian a taste before getting pulled away; but Xie Lian just came up next to him, peeking into the pot, and patted him on the shoulder with a smile. “Not bad.”
Ah.
It was over.
Two feelings fought:
The first, overwhelming joy. He had enough spiritual energy to work again while keeping his form steady. He could serve Xie Lian again. He’d made it.
The second feeling was loss.
In an instant, Hua Cheng was furious at himself. The little spot where Xie Lian had patted his shoulder felt cold. What did he have to be sad about? This was good. There was no part of being strong enough again that wasn’t good. This was no time for selfishness.
“Finally,” he said, with a relieved sigh. “If I couldn’t cook for gege for another day, I might’ve wasted away. Here.” He turned with the spoon. “Try some—”
Upon turning, he stopped short. Xie Lian had turned too, holding up a full spoon of his own, smiling tenderly. In his hand was a bowl of pudding. “You try some, too. I got up early and made something.”
Hua Cheng’s heart clenched. It almost hurt. Hua Cheng wanted to fall to his knees. Hua Cheng wanted to fall down and bite into Xie Lian’s thigh and stay there until he had to be coaxed off, maybe cut off. Serving Xie Lian wasn’t enough, he needed to drown in him. He needed to do something before he exploded, he needed to—
Very carefully hiding his fervor, only betrayed by a flash of his eyes, Hua Cheng leaned forward and politely tried to take the spoon with his hand. He couldn’t let Xie Lian feed him again. The more he indulged himself, the worse this would get. But Xie Lian was insistent:
“Don’t take it, just open. Your hands are full.”
So Hua Cheng leaned forward and let Xie Lian dip the spoon into his mouth. A familiar haziness tingled at the corners of his mind.
It wasn’t like Hua Cheng was oblivious. He knew there was something brewing inside him, a kind of fervor that was both familiar and completely alien all at once. He knew it was something that made him weaker, softer. He knew it came on when Xie Lian was taking care of him—but no, that wasn’t quite right. Really, it was more when Xie Lian…
It was difficult to describe, complicated.
Hm. This kind of thing really wasn’t convenient at all. It had to be gotten rid of.
That was the good thing about having such control over himself, Hua Cheng reasoned. If there was any part of himself that was inconvenient, he could usually rid himself of it. Something like this, useless and confusing to both himself and His Highness, could—and should—be easily discarded.
It would just take a bit of reframing.
So once Xie Lian had moved off to help with the dishes, Hua Cheng set his spoon down and walked over to stand behind him. Slowly, he slipped his arms around Xie Lian’s waist and put his chin over his shoulder.
Xie Lian glanced back curiously. “San Lang?”
Hua Cheng let out a deep sigh, sinking further into Xie Lian’s shoulder. He distinctly felt Xie Lian’s knees wobble, and took that as his cue.
“Your Highness,” he said quietly. “You’ve been so good, giving me spiritual energy.”
“…” Xie Lian’s ears turned red, and he leaned on the counter. “Of course,” he mumbled. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”
“I’m feeling a lot better.”
“Good.”
“Since I’m strong again, I can do all sorts of things for gege. Cooking, cleaning…” He let his voice trail off, thoughtful. “Other things like that.”
For a long moment, Xie Lian hesitated. His entire face had flushed by now, and finally, he said softly:
“If you want to say something, you should say it directly.”
Hua Cheng’s arms tightened around Xie Lian’s waist. “Mmm. How about gege says it first?”
🦪
The first night after they had sex, Hua Cheng dreamt.
His thoughts returned, as they often did, to that enormous effigy carved from the kiln’s bloodstained rock. There was only one difference: the statue in his dreams was flesh and blood rather than stone.
In such dreams, His Highness—tall as a mountain, soft-skinned and lovely, dressed up in the clothes of a god—held Hua Cheng cupped in his hands. He did nothing but stroke him with one thumb, warming him beneath a gentle gaze.
And Hua Cheng would kneel there in Xie Lian’s massive palm, staring up to meet those eyes the size of windows. He knelt still and obedient, only waiting to understand—wondering what he wanted from him, wondering what he wanted from him.
🦪
There were no words to describe that first night. It had been everything Hua Cheng ever wanted; he’d been patient, and Xie Lian had been so good, and they’d worked together to find the perfect pace—breaking eight hundred years of cultivation was bound to be difficult, but he was relieved to find Xie Lian curious, though shy.
The beautiful, intricate work of it all occupied Hua Cheng’s mind, through the first night and across the many others that followed. Importantly, it washed away any of those crude, juvenile fantasies he’d had stewing in his head. Compared to dealing with the real thing—Xie Lian’s body and soul in all its complexity—those odd wishes from before didn’t seem relevant at all. After some time, Hua Cheng even forgot about them.
Until.
🦪
It had been a normal evening, at least at first.
Maybe the preparations had been a little more intricate than usual. Xie Lian was coming home late, so Hua Cheng had all the time in the world. He used it well, sitting in front of his mirror—choosing the best pair of earrings, combing through his hair, drawing in a dash of red eyeliner with a steady hand. He’d even had time to grind up a few flowers for a new perfume, mixing them into a fragrance himself, and dabbed the warm, flowery scent to his neck, to his wrists.
The outfit was important, too. There were no belts, no hard jewelry tonight, just a red robe with wild embroidery swirling at the edges. When Xie Lian returned from the stressful day, after all, he would want to hold something soft.
Hua Cheng gave himself a once-over in the mirror once he’d finished, confirming that everything was perfect for Xie Lian’s enjoyment. He tilted his head, letting the dangling silver pieces on his earrings clink against each other. Brushing his hands down his soft sleeves, he caught a hint of his perfume from his wrist, and suddenly shivered.
All of this was for Xie Lian. All of him was for Xie Lian.
At the thought, he suddenly felt something familiar: a faint tingling up the nape of his neck, a haziness at the corners of his mind. Before he could ponder it too much, however, the door swung open.
“San Lang!” Xie Lian broke into a smile, seeing him—and stopped short when Hua Cheng turned around.
“Gege, welcome back,” Hua Cheng said smoothly. “How was your day?”
Finding Hua Cheng dressed down like this, casual and alluring, was an obvious message; but despite a moment’s pause, Xie Lian only turned pink before continuing to talk as usual. “It could be worse,” he said, and swallowed. “Only a little stressful.”
With a smile, Hua Cheng extended a hand and beckoned. “How so?”
Xie Lian gave a shy smile back, then sighed as he walked over. “Just the usual things. They keep asking me for advice, asking me to help solve problems…”
Hua Cheng took his hand, guiding him to sit on the bed. “Gege doesn’t think he’d be a good heavenly emperor?”
Xie Lian seemed to find this funny. “I’m not one. Besides, the last kingdom that I led didn’t do very well.”
“Better than it would’ve done with anyone else.”
With a heavy sigh, Xie Lian sank into an embrace, wrapping his arms around Hua Cheng. “It just feels strange to tell people what to do again. I can’t help but think, why should anyone listen to me? It’s not like picking up scraps gives you experience…”
Returning the embrace, squeezing Xie Lian into his chest, Hua Cheng clicked his tongue. “More experience than they have. Gege, even if you led them into a ditch, you’d still have saved them from falling off a cliff.”
At that, Xie Lian laughed. “Of course you’d…never mind. How was your day?”
“Lonely,” Hua Cheng whispered. His voice had gone low and sensual. This was how he warmed Xie Lian up.
Wrapped in Hua Cheng’s arms, Xie Lian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “…me too.”
Hua Cheng smiled.
“Let’s help gege get some of that stress out.”
🦪
And so, they ended up in that familiar position—Xie Lian on his back, Hua Cheng draped over him—murmuring in his ear, stroking both their cocks in one tenderly squeezing hand.
“Your Highness,” he whispered.
Xie Lian was so docile when he was being stroked, shy and quiet, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his head away. With every stroke, his brow pinched like he was concentrating, and his hands curled into the sheets. “Mn…”
“Your Highness,” Hua Cheng said again, with a smile. “Don’t look away. Look at me.”
“I’ll look if you go faster,” Xie Lian mumbled.
Hua Cheng laughed. “Your Highness, Your Highness. Hasn’t anyone told you? An emperor doesn’t make petty deals like this.”
He leaned closer, speaking with his lips moving against Xie Lian’s ear, prompting him to flinch:
“An emperor commands.”
Xie Lian squirmed under Hua Cheng, trying to use his hips to thrust into his slick grip. “What emperor,” he muttered.
Hua Cheng pinned him down harder, squeezing their cocks together in his hand, stilling any movement. “What was that?”
Frustration boiled over. “San Lang!”
“Mmm, wrong again.”
“Please—”
“A command usually doesn’t start with please. Gege, listen closely: if want to get someone to do what you want—”
That was the breaking point. Xie Lian opened his eyes and looked straight into Hua Cheng’s face. Burning-red face, burning eyes.
“Oh,” Hua Cheng acknowledged, and then he was being wrenched onto his back.
He barely felt it happen, couldn’t defend against it one bit, but that was to be expected. Xie Lian was the number one martial god in the heavens; a little wrestling like this was nothing to him. Flattened onto his back like this, Hua Cheng was excited but still steady. After all, there was nothing better than teasing from this position—
Suddenly, Xie Lian crushed his lips to Hua Cheng’s.
The familiar position sent a shock through Hua Cheng’s body.
All at once, he wasn’t in the bedroom at paradise manor. He was pinned down in a little cottage on a mountain, weighed down onto a bed that smelled like Xie Lian and rain-dampened wood and grass, and gentle light was filtering in, and Hua Cheng was so weak that he couldn’t break out of this hold, even if he wanted to—he would have to beg Xie Lian to be freed. His chest burned with hot spiritual energy.
Despite the pull of that brief, immersing memory, Hua Cheng still managed to bring himself back to the present. He even managed to put together a coherent thought: Ah, this position is just like back then. That’s why I like it so much, it makes sense.
But then, still boiling with frustration, Xie Lian reached up and pinned Hua Cheng’s wrists to the bed. Hard.
A jolt went through Hua Cheng’s body, a flood of heat through his veins.
That was when it happened.
.
.
.
Hua Cheng went under.
He couldn’t have avoided it happening any more than a tortoise could keep itself from sinking—weighed mercilessly down by the shell that had always protected it. Betrayed so sweetly. There was an ocean around him, calm but dark, and it closed over his head within a moment.
Then he opened his mouth to breathe, and the love filled up his lungs, and he was drowning.
The haze from before had turned into a thick fog. The tingling had turned to outright weakness. It was like everything in Hua Cheng’s mind had been folded into a warm embrace, the kind of embrace that was also deadly, leeching away any thought that didn’t pertain to the god in front of him. Like a poison designed to make prey soft and dull.
Never had Hua Cheng felt so blank, other than a few moments in those early Tonglu years when he’d lived surrounded by statues. During that time, he had sometimes gone into a trance during prayer, ending up draped in a pair of stone arms, out of breath, head spinning. In his stormiest moments he had even touched himself at the height of his frenzy, bringing the ecstasy to new heights.
But there was a crucial difference between then and now.
Back then, he hadn’t been crushed down and kissed blind by the very god who had him in rapture—a god who probably hadn’t realized just how easily he could drown the ghost beneath him.
Hua Cheng let out a soft cry against Xie Lian’s mouth, begging for his life.
At that, Xie Lian lifted off him, looking embarrassed but satisfied. “There,” he mumbled. “Is that enough for you?”
Hua Cheng’s eyes followed him as he rose up, tracking him anxiously. It was like he couldn’t see anything else. The god in front of him had become the fulcrum of his entire existence, over which his mind teetered dangerously.
“Gege,” he said weakly.
Upon seeing Hua Cheng suddenly wear such an open expression, Xie Lian blushed and glanced away. “You—you won’t win with those kinds of looks, you know. Next time you tease me for so long, I’ll really make you regret it.”
The harsh words were like a balm. Of course Hua Cheng was meant to be disciplined, put in his place. Nothing could be more natural, more right. The only question was—
“How?” he croaked.
“Haven’t decided yet,” Xie Lian mumbled. Seeming embarrassed by what he’d said, then, he nestled down and hid in Hua Cheng’s neck. With his face in that warm and delicate place, however, he paused.
After a moment, he took a small breath in, curious at the scent that lingered there.
Oh, fuck. Hua Cheng’s eyes nearly rolled back. He was so dizzy that he had to clutch the sheets.
Xie Lian only nudged closer. “Is this a new perfume?”
“Mn,” Hua Cheng choked out. Then, clawing through the mess in his head, he managed to strain out one more word. “Lily.”
Xie Lian laid the tiniest, shy kiss on the side of Hua Cheng’s neck. “…it’s nice.”
A throb went up from Hua Cheng’s groin straight up through his neck. He thought his head might explode. “Uhh,” he groaned.
Xie Lian sank down further, burying his arms around Hua Cheng’s body and settling down. He laid a few more delicate pecks to Hua Cheng’s neck, then pressed his hot forehead against the skin. “It’s nice. Really, you’re always so…”
The sentence trailed off; whatever Xie Lian had meant to say was either too embarrassing or too difficult to describe, so he only added a few more moist kisses, trailing them up Hua Cheng’s neck, towards his ear.
Inside Hua Cheng, a scream was building up.
His god was enjoying him. Hua Cheng had spent all afternoon making himself pretty and sweet-scented, and now his god was resting on him, resting his perfect damp forehead against him, enjoying his scent and burrowing into him and kissing him for fun. Letting their hardening cocks nestle together between their stomachs.
It was then that Hua Cheng realized that he’d only scratched the surface. He was already deep in this ocean, but there was a massive blackness gaping open beneath him. There was still much further he could sink. He was already sinking.
If he sank any further, could he die?
Suddenly, Xie Lian’s head snapped up. “San Lang?”
Ah. Something had come out of his lips. He might have whispered the question out loud.
Xie Lian cupped his face in his hands, alert. “You’re what?”
Hua Cheng stared up, eyes glazed, not quite processing the words—only tracking Xie Lian’s eyes.
“Don’t joke around. What did you mean just now?”
Why was his god so worried? Hua Cheng fought the haze. “Gege…?”
And thus came the regrettable scene:
“San Lang, San Lang—are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Hua Cheng struggled against the fog even harder, managing to form a word. “Can’t...”
“Shh, okay, it’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” Wrapping his arm behind Hua Cheng’s shoulders, Xie Lian lifted him up a little, managing to prop him against a mound of pillows.
The effect of that was quick; it was like sitting up out of an ocean, realizing he’d actually been drowning in a bathtub all along. As if cold air had met damp skin and dripping hair, Hua Cheng started trembling. The warm fog had slipped away, leaving him lucid but bare, letting him speak.
“Don’t worry, gege,” he said finally, through chattering teeth. “I just caught a chill, it’s nothing.”
“A chill?” Feeling for a pulse point, Xie Lian furrowed his brow. “You’re a ghost, why would you get cold…”
The shivering was getting stronger, and Hua Cheng’s arms folded beneath him. He sank into the pillows in a weary stupor. This alarmed Xie Lian even more.
“I’ll get you hot water,” he said quickly, and slipped off the bed.
Despite his languid look and half-lidded eyes, Hua Cheng watched him go with something like panic. Wait, wait!, something inside was wailing. Your Highness, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me…
The shivering seemed to crush inward, until it felt like his heart was shaking, too. Hua Cheng tried to sit up, but he was dizzy and soft. His face was so hot that it nearly forced out tears.
Oh, how he hated himself for this.
As a rule, he hated anything that made him pathetic. As far as that standard was concerned, this couldn’t be any worse. He’d turned into a feeble thing just from a passionate kiss, ruining Xie Lian’s evening—and for what? Picturing himself going moon-eyed like an idiot instead of working for Xie Lian’s pleasure was more disgusting than he could bear; he’d turned into the most contemptible kind of believer, the kind that went on their knees begging their god about me, me, me.
The cold seemed to get colder, so Hua Cheng wrapped himself in his robes again, trying to sit up. Before he could, though—
“No no no, it’s fine! Just rest,” Xie Lian blustered, rushing over with a small tray.
“I’m fine, gege, really. I just caught a chill—”
“Then let me warm you up a little.” Climbing up onto the bed, Xie Lian took Hua Cheng’s shoulders and gently pushed him back onto the pillows. Then, he settled in next to him, gathering him into his hold, and picked up a warm cup of water. “Have some of this, I’ll help.”
Hua Cheng blinked. He was cradled in one of Xie Lian’s arms, feeling the hum of a gentle voice just over his head. A cup was being held up to his face; steam was rising off.
In an instant, he jerked back like he’d been startled. The haze had started coming back.
“Oh—sorry, is it too hot?” Xie Lian wondered. He lifted the cup and pursed his perfect lips, blowing cool air over it, before offering it again. “Here.”
For a moment, Hua Cheng’s lashes trembled.
“Here,” Xie Lian insisted, putting the cup to his lips and tilting it in
Warm water seeped into Hua Cheng’s mouth, some of it dribbling from the corner. He looked up at Xie Lian’s face looming over him, wearing that incomparably gentle expression.
A little dazed, Hua Cheng pursed his lips and sipped, taking the hot water down his throat. It warmed his chest when he swallowed.
Forgive me, Your Highness. I've failed you.
But it wouldn’t remain like this. Tonight, he’d let Xie Lian fuss over him. Starting tomorrow, he’d start being more careful, and this would never happen again.
.
.
.