Chapter Text
****
The young boy who accompanied Xie Lian to the Land of Tender was truly a gifted fighter, just as the prince had said himself before. The boy was almost fourteen years old, as Xie Lian learned later, and it made his heart hurt. It wasn’t because of his young age, no; he knew the war was merciful and they sadly needed all hands they could get, and the boy was skilled enough to hold himself in a fight. He knew true talent when he saw one and the boy was really promising with a scimitar. What made him sad, though, was the way the boy behaved when he was given food as if somebody was about to take it back from him. He was most likely malnourished most of his life and knew what true hunger meant. His body was lanky and skinny and his movements outside of battle awkward as if he just hit his growth spurt. But he started to smile again and again when the prince spent the little free time he had with him. All of this made Xie Lian want to spoil his new little friend with everything he could possibly think of.
The boy timidly asked to be called San Lang as he was the third son in his family and never have gotten a name. Xie Lian’s heart once again ached at that but he didn’t comment on that and only respected his honest request. It also seemed like he was the only one who was given permission to call him that. It was easy to say so when you saw the way he tensed when Mu Qing or Feng Xin tried to call him ‘San Lang’. The two generals soon stopped doing so and just reversed to mostly calling him ‘brat’ to Xie Lian’s chagrin and San Lang’s somehow angered smugness.
San Lang didn’t dislike Feng Xin and Mu Qing, per se, but he didn’t look to be fond of them as well, the case with his name not counting. But they at least put an effort to get on well with each other well enough when Xie Lian was present, so he guessed that was okay. He even followed the three of them when Xianle lost the war and the royal family was forced to run away.
He could have ran away himself to live peacefully as a citizen of now Yong’an or flee to any other country but he instead chose to help them. He always stayed close, giving the previously royal family whatever food or money he managed to gather in a day and just being selfless. When Xie Lian finally managed to catch him in the act of sneaking food into their small and pathetic kitchen he made San Lang promise to at least eat with them sometimes instead of instantly running away. The young man took that promise very seriously and even helped with cooking when he stayed for dinner. Seeing San Lang among his parents and closest friends and eating his mom’s horrid cooking made Xie Lian’s heart ache with happiness for the first time since he was banished.
*
San Lang didn’t even try to hide his resentment for Mu Qing when he left Xie Lian and his broken family. The ex-general’s reasons for his departure didn’t matter. What mattered was that he betrayed the prince’s trust and friendship. Mu Qing was selfish. He was so selfish and he didn’t even think what his betrayal would do to Xie Lian’s bruised, fragile heart.
Soon, Xie Lian disappeared and San Lang was the only person who went looking for him.
*
Xie Lian didn’t even feel pain anymore. He just felt empty. The black and slender sword entering his body time after time reminded him of embroidering. He felt as if he was standing next to whatever remained of some body, too numb to care that the pathetic bloody thing was his and looking at some gory and sickening embroidery done by all the people who queued to wait for their turn. It almost was morbidly fascinating.
He might have lost consciousness again because the next time he was in his body and aware of anything, he heard a scream. No, a wail. It was a wail of someone who just learned they lost their most precious thing. It was heartbreaking. What a beautiful sound.
The next strike never pierced his body. He made a gurgling questioning sound at the realization. His mostly unseeing eyes looked over the bloody bodies lying on the ground before he spotted a beautiful death angel standing among the massacre, looking at him. It took him an embarrassingly long moment to recognize the angel as San Lang.
San Lang was here.
His San Lang was here.
His San Lang made a step towards him but before he could say anything of walk closer, he disappeared in a burst of blinding light. Oh.
Figures such a beautiful death angel would ascend. Good for him. Xie Lian will manage here now since all the people were—
“Xie Lian,” his brain cried out and wasn’t that his name? Probably. Most likely. Why was he talking to himself? Was he trying to remind himself who he was? “Dianxia, I’m here, open your eyes, I’m begging you--” The voice didn’t really sound like his. But he couldn’t remember who--? Doesn’t matter. He can do what it asked of him. Can’t he? He can. His heavy eyelids slowly, oh so slowly fluttered open.
San Lang. San Lang, San Lang, San Lang was here. He was. He is. Isn’t he always?
Xie Lian didn’t think he still had tears to spill but here he is. But these were happy tears. So he tried to smile but it only made San Lang cry from his eye. Singular. The hole on the right side of his face was crying bloody tears. Xie Lian wanted to dry up all the tears: the clear and the crimson red ones. But he didn’t think he could lift any of his arms up. Such a pity.
His wounds didn’t hurt. He felt numb. But the long-forgotten feeling of spiritual energy pouring into his parched meridians still made his shiver. It was soothing. He could feel all the additional holes on his body slowly sealing themselves. His insides were carefully pushed back into his abdomen with it healing itself right after. He could finally breathe.
He wanted to sleep. He could, couldn’t he? San Lang was here; he would keep him safe. He was amazing like that. Even with tears still rolling down his cheeks he held him lovingly, making his heart ache with an internal injury rather than because of a sword hitting it again and again. Everything was alright now. He was loved. He was safe. He was taken care of.
With that last thought, Xie Lian had fallen asleep, safe in the arms of a young man who cried for a broken ex-god.
*
Feng Xin left. It looked like San Lang was right about not liking any of the two men Xie Lian thought of as friends. In a moment of desperation and weakness Xie Lian told San Lang he should leave him too. San Lang looked at him with a quivering, sad smile and refused. He wasn’t listening to a broken man’s harsh words full of insults; instead he heard his pitiful plea to stay hidden behind them. “I will forever stay by your side, Dianxia,” he said. And he did.
San Lang also stayed when Xie Lian’s parents decided to be selfish one last time and left their poor, broken son alone in the harsh world. He stayed when Xie Lian hung himself on the same spot he found his parents’ already dead bodies hanging from. He tenderly took him down and cradled him in his arms until he woke up. And then some when he cried and cried, and cried, and fell asleep again.
San Lang stayed. He always was the only one who stayed.
…but won’t he leave him too, someday…?
*
If he releases the souls, the Yong’an people wouldn’t be the only ones who die. San Lang would die, too. How could he not have thought about it earlier?
San Lang can’t die. He’s the only one who stayed.
Xie Lian loves him so much it hurts.
If he took the souls to himself, the Yong’an people would live. But San Lang would live, too. Revenge isn’t as important as saving San Lang. He’s the only person worth dying for.
And so, Xie Lian does it gladly.
********
“Dianxia, let me—”
“NO!” Xie Lian almost shrieked at him, his voice truly frightened as he ripped Fangxin out of startled San Lang’s hands and took several steps away from him. His knuckles turned white from how strongly he was gripping the black hilt and sweat instantly appeared on his brow. San Lang looked at the pained face of his god, as the lips on it stretched into a soft relieved smile before it turned into an ugly shape of a heart-wrenching scream.
Xie Lian disappeared with the thousands of souls ripping his own (bright and too pure for this world, it didn’t deserve him in it in the first place--) soul apart. His scream stopped as quickly as it started as well. San Lang’s ears still ringed with the memory of it. He was frozen in place, not really comprehending what happened. It was quiet. Something hit the ground with a soft thud.
…
There was a body.
“…Dianxia…?”
There was a body.
It was Xie Lian’s body.
San Lang howled and jumped to the empty shell lying lifelessly on the ground. He collapsed on his knees next to it, not knowing what to do. At hearing a quiet sound of a cursed shackle shattering, San Lang went rigid. It was hard seeing through tears but he had to do it. So he did. Xie Lian’s neck was completely bare. For the first time in several long years his neck was bare again. It was an awful sight. It looked wrong. It was proof that Xie Lian was gone. He couldn’t be gone. He just couldn’t. How could he be gone if San Lang was right here? How could he had gone to a place San Lang wasn’t able to follow him into?
“No! No, nonononono, oh god, my god, Dianxia, my Xie Lian, please, please…” he whispered to the body of the only person he ever loved since his mother died. Xie Lian left him too. San Lang was useless; how come he never manages to keep his most precious people alive? How come he’s always being left alone? What did he do wrong? Why can’t he protect the people who care about him? Is it his fault? Why was he even born? Why why why?!
The body was so light when he shakily cradled it to his chest. Its eyes were closed; Xie Lian looked as if he was just sleeping peacefully. His usually half-up hair was undone. He was only sleeping. He was so quiet. That was just some cruel nightmare. He wasn’t breathing. He will wake up soon and laugh at San Lang for being so stupid as to dream of something silly like that. He was already so cold, as if he never was warm to begin with. He will hug him and pat his hair, and say that he is dead, he’s dead, Xie Lian is dead, his body was so small, so small, smaller than he ever was when he was alive, that wasn’t happening, it was just a dream, Xie Lian can’t be dead, he just can’t be dead, it’s impossible—
There’s no heartbeat.
Dead bodies usually don’t have a heartbeat.
There was a dead body.
He was hugging Xie Lian’s dead body.
A sob tore itself from San Lang’s throat when the realization finally stuck with him. Then another when he felt the already familiar pull of ascension. In a burst of panic, San Lang used spiritual energy to turn the body snuggled in his arms into ashes and then willed them to take a form of a diamond ring. The ashes mended themselves to his will very willingly then almost made his palm burn when he gripped them too tight. That was the last thing he did before he once again appeared in the Heavenly Capital.
He stayed, this time. Somebody had to take care of all the trash up here.
And thus began the story of Hua Cheng, later known as the Grieving God.
********
“Why does Jun Wu hate me so much?” Hua Cheng asked when he was unhurriedly strolling between the trees to the destination of Mount Yujun. The two menaces were walking several steps ahead of him, tired of his leisurely gait, still playing at they fucking weird foreplay. How far must one be gone to enjoy arguing as much as these two did? Hua Cheng swears they were made for each other. He would be sincerely rooting for their poorly budding romance if he didn’t hate them both so much. Seriously, what is wrong with that mission? Why couldn’t he have gone alone? Or better; why couldn’t Pei Ming take care of it? It was his territory, after all. Fucking heavenly bureaucracy.
“Maybe because you’re a little menace and nobody likes you?” Mu Qing answered, useful as always. He didn’t even spare Hua Cheng a look as he said it. Rude much. If he wakes up after this mission with several temples less than usual he shouldn’t even be surprised And he probably won’t if he knows what’s best for him. Feng Xin only scoffed at the second menace but didn’t say anything to refute what the first one said. Once again, rude. More temples to burn, Hua Cheng decided. Joy.
“More like he hates us for making us come with you. I swear, why does everyone still think that because we knew each other before our ascensions means that we like our company? I hate you two, just for you to know,” Feng Xin added helpfully after he hit Mu Qing and ran away from him like a coward. Hua Cheng hated that he agreed with him on that. He also hated that they were about to fight with each other again. They always become weird about that when they realize who usually made them stop even if it was several hundred years now since it last happened.
They don’t really talk about Xie Lian much. Nobody does, at least not with Hua Cheng nearby. He wasn’t called the Grieving God for nothing; every mention of the long dead and previously disgraced Flower Crowned Martial God made him apathetic and so wistful and sad it made everyone looking at him in that state depressed. So, as a rule, Xie Lian was unmentionable within Hua Cheng’s hearing range. Even if he was the only one who knew what really happened to a person who was supposed to be immortal to make him die. He never said more than that he died right before his eyes. He didn’t even said what happened to his body, too. The Flower Crowned Martial God’s disappearance was a mystery only one person held the key for and that person weren’t willing to share it with anyone. So they stopped asking. Hua Cheng knew about the reason behind that fact and as annoyed as he was at it, he was also silently grateful to everyone who respected that. But Mu Qing and Feng Xin often forgot about that. Just like right now.
Hua Cheng tiredly sighed. He wasn’t listening to anything they were saying now but he knew what they were talking about. Not today. Today, he wants to finish his mission as quickly as possible and return to travelling. He had places to be. Places far away from the two menaces who had finally fallen silent after hearing his sigh. They also slowed their steps to match his, thus starting to walk by his side like they did before they started walking quicker. Great. Well, why not walk in silence to their destination? It’s awkward but working. Whatever.
*
They finally reached the town nearest their target and sat in an inn to brainstorm. Thinking about the mission turned out to be ineffective as there wasn’t much information about it in the first place. They learned more about it from the townspeople than from the scroll Ling Wen gave them before they left Heaven. Hua Cheng was too fed up with everything to care about it any longer than he had to so he just took a sip of his tea and announced to his irritating companions, “I’ll just pretend to be a bride to lure the ghost groom out.”
It wasn’t a suggestion but a declaration of their new plan and the two generals knew it. Before they did something stupid like trying to make the plan more difficult by saying that no ghost groom would be stupid enough to think of him, a grown-ass man as a bride, he changed his appearance to one of a 16-year-old girl. His body suddenly became two heads shorter, and it was much softer with light curves on chest and hips. The face looked much rounder and rosy, and less sickly than his true form (which he used rarely, often preferring a look of a healthy and wealthy young master without any missing body parts) but the two black eyes unmistakably made the girl look like Hua Cheng if someone knew him good enough. The fact that the girl was wearing the same clothes he did before certainly helped with that.
Feng Xin jumped in sudden fear and Mu Qing only rolled his eyes before shrugging. “I guess it’ll work,” he said, reaching for his cup. He filled it up and took a sip while Feng Xin was trying to calm down and pretend as if he wasn’t scared shitless by the sudden appearance of a petite girl sitting in front of him. “R-right, you can for sure trick the ghost groom now. But—”
“Are you three here to help us?” a young voice suddenly asked from behind Hua Cheng. He turned around to look at an average looking girl with honest eyes full of hope. She blushed under his gaze and coughed into her hand from embarrassment. They both ignored Feng Xin’s spluttering and Mu Qing’s mean laughter. Pathetic. “I couldn’t help but hear what you were talking about and I saw daozhang suddenly turn into a girl… I didn’t mean to eavesdrop! But if you came here to help us, I could do your makeup and give you some wedding robes… to help you look like a bride! If you want!”
Hua Cheng blinked at her owlishly, uncomprehending. Was she… offering to help him? Huh. He can’t remember the last time somebody wanted to give him a hand in anything from their own will. Weird feeling. But who was he to refuse? One less thing to worry about. He smiled sweetly with mischievous twinkle in his eyes and accepted the girl’s proposition. She beamed at him in response.
*
Xiao Ying was a true miracle sent from heaven, not at all like the two useless martial gods who didn’t know what to do with themselves anymore. Honestly, get lost, you disturb girls’ bonding time. Feng Xin was behaving positively pathetic with his terrified squeaks whenever one of them as much as looked at him. Mu Qing wasn’t fairing any better in the annoyingness department but he was instead throwing them moody faces and eyerolls so violent Hua Cheng was personally wishing for him to just sprain his eyeballs with it and stop. But whatever. Xiao Ying made him an honestly breathtaking bride. He looked simply stunning with the delicate makeup and simple but beautifully decorated wedding robes. The two generals were just most likely wishing it was them who was pretending to get married today. Sucks to be them; unwed, grumpy and sad.
Feng Xin and Mu Qing were so useless they couldn’t even kill some binu they later encountered in the forest on Mount Yujun itself and left him in his marriage sedan chair utterly alone. If he were a proper young lady and not a powerful martial god, he would be by now scared shitless by the creepy atmosphere. It wasn’t cool of his supposed ‘friends from Xianle’ to leave a young girl in such conditions. Fuck you all. Getting married isn’t funny anymore. It’s honestly quite boring.
Hua Cheng wasn’t paying attention to the sounds of the forest surrounding him before they disappeared. It was as if the nature caught its breath. His currently small body was strung like a bowstring when he understood that something was coming, ready to pounce on it or run if he had to. He didn’t have E’ming on him but he wasn’t at all worried about being unarmed; he spent a good part of his youngest years on the streets learning to fist fight in practice and then some time being trained by a literal martial god, not counting the 800 or so years of sometimes dealing with something or someone unpleasant with only his bare hands so he wasn’t powerless in such a situation. But he didn’t feel any killing intent from whatever was coming for him.
He could hear light, unhurried steps. It was most likely a ghost. Quite powerful at that. He could feel the power radiating from the creature from a distance so it was surprising when the ghost did nothing except… stopping right in front of the marriage sedan. After a long while Hua Cheng saw a pale, slender hand covered with old callouses appear in front of him and just waiting. For what, he didn’t know; maybe for Hua Cheng to take it? And because Hua Cheng was maybe too stupid to even consider against not following unknown ghost’s lead, he took the offered hand. The ghost almost piously closed his elegant fingers around his artificially small ones and softly tugged him forward. Hua Cheng took a step and instantly fell on a sturdy chest clothed in flowy silver-white robes. The ghost cooed softly at him as if trying to calm down his suddenly erratic heart and helped him stand upright. The ghost once again carefully grabbed his hand, this time to guide the god with him. Hua Cheng let himself be led without thinking about it too much.
The ghost was holding Hua Cheng’s hand as if it was the most precious thing in the world and that made his weirdly willing companion’s head swim from warm feelings. His fingers were freezing cold but it didn’t disturb the god in the least. He was guiding him so caringly, mindful of places he could trip on and never tugging him with harsh movements. If Hua Cheng so wished, he could just let go of him and walk away alone. Weirdly enough, he knew the ghost would respect that and let him do so. And, maybe because of that, he stayed.
Something in the ghost’s behavior made Hua Cheng wish he was walking here with him in his true form and not in the female one. So, Hua Cheng did just that; he turned back to being his malnourished, lanky, barely adult male form without right eye he first ascended in. The ghost didn’t say anything nor stopped when his petite bride turned into an almost whole head taller than him and wild looking groom. He only hummed appreciatively and squeezed Hua Cheng’s hand for a second, acknowledging the change and continued guiding him through the forest. It made Hua Cheng weirdly excited. His mouth involuntarily turned into a shy smile.
The new angle made Hua Cheng able to see more of the mysterious ghost. The silvery dust hovering all around them made it obvious as to who he was so Hua Cheng almost gaped at the realization that the Silver Mask Guiding Lost’s face was lacking his famous mask the ghost king was known for. What a shame he couldn’t see very well from under his red veil. But. What was he doing here? Did he just thought Hua Cheng needed a guide because he looked lost sitting in his wedding sedan chair in the middle of a forest? That’s the second thing Silver Mask Guiding Lost was famous for, after all. Guiding lost people and ghosts. Did Hua Cheng look like he was lost then? Because he for sure was now.
Here they were, the Grieving God and the elusive ghost king with his face bare to the world, walking hand in hand in a creepy forest during a shitty mission which should have been stupid Pei Ming’s business and not his. Funny.
While Hua Cheng was too busy silently fuming under his nose at the Heaven and its hypocrites, Silver Mask destroyed the array surrounding the whole mountain with a heel of his foot. That power was truly amazing. How thrilling. Hua Cheng felt a shiver travel up his spine. He didn’t know why he was reacting like that to a person he just met; it wasn’t like him, to be so enraptured by… anyone, really. It was concerning. But should he be worried about it? What’s the harm in indulging for a bit?
He spoke too soon. They stopped walking in a bit after the array broke but Hua Cheng knew they were exactly where he was supposed to be for this stupid mission. The ghost king brought him to a place in which he needed to be. He hadn’t known earlier where that place was, where he was heading but Silver Mask still guided him to it. It was amazing and he was so grateful for that.
Silver Mask let go of his hand but the disappointment lasted only for a second before Hua Cheng felt the same hand reaching under his veil to gently caress his jaw. The feeling was unfamiliar but oh so pleasant and welcome. He hummed encouragingly when he felt the veil slowly being lifted, tempted to just close his eye and wholly let himself feel the feather-light touch. But the icy-cold hand resting on his cheek was shivering slightly and Hua Cheng irrationally wanted to reach for it to reassure its owner to stop being nervous. There was something intimate in the moment, which he craved and didn’t want to end. If Silver Mask for some reason wanted him, a lonesome and gloomy god, to know what he looked like, who was Hua Cheng to refuse?
The god looked slightly down and saw a soft curve of thin lips and a cute button nose tip before they both heard a noise somewhere from behind them. The hand abruptly stilled as Silver Mask sighed deeply with something akin to resignation. He tenderly touched Hua Cheng’s cheekbone, right under his missing eye, without moving his hand up anymore. The touch felt even more intimate and longing than it did before and it made Hua Cheng’s face burn under the cold fingers. His erratic heartbeat and the awareness of what was about to happen almost made him ignore the disappointment at Silver Mask dissolving into silver dust at the two menaces’ yelling voices. What an amazing timing they had.
“Hua Cheng!” Feng Xin yelled when he saw him standing there like an idiot surrounded by silver flecks. The Grieving God took his veil off and started into the distance for a while when the two gods ran up to him. His face was still hot, great. He hit his cheeks to will the blush away. It didn’t work. Figures. “Was that Silver Ma—what’s wrong with your face? And why are you in that form? It looks fucking weird.”
The prominent thing of being an isolated shapeshifter is that everyone can quickly forget what you truly looked like. That was most likely the point with these two who last saw his true appearance 800 years ago when he ascended for the second time. When he started gaining lots of spiritual power, he changed forms almost daily, to the point of his worshippers only knowing he lacked one eye and dressed mostly in red with silver jewelry. And that’s it. Hua Cheng most often spent time in a body looking like a mischievous young master with normal amount of eyes and he guesses most gods think that’s his true appearance, Feng Xin and Mu Qing included. Fools. Their fucking problem.
“And you’re ugly but you don’t see me pointing fingers,” Hua Cheng bit back, with his heartbeat finally starting to calm down. Mu Qing snorted with amusement what made Feng Xin turn to him with a sneer. Before they could once again start tearing each other down, Hua Cheng just turned on his heel and walked into the shrine of Ming Guang. He changed his appearance to his usual youthful one, changing his clothes as well. There wasn’t the need for wearing wedding robes anymore so why should he bother with them? The two menaces followed after him. They were finally quiet and the mission is nearing its end, thanks to the unexpected help form a ghost king. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, overall.
Hua Cheng still didn’t have any idea as to why the supreme ghost king Silver Mask Guiding Lost suddenly appeared before him and tried to show him his face. He also didn’t know why his heart and whole body reacted the way it did to the whole encounter. The last time he felt remotely something similar was when Dianxia—
The Grieving God gripped the diamond ring lying snugly on his chest under his outer robe. It was warm. It always felt warm as if it was a living person and not just ashes remaining after one. It was nicer to not think about it. So, he stopped. Silver Mask maybe just kind of reminds him of his most precious memory. It doesn’t matter. He probably won’t see the ghost king ever again; he lost his chance. That’s okay.
That’s okay, he repeated in his mind, once again squeezing the ring before letting go of it. He won’t think about this event at all. What is lost. Is lost. The end.
********
San Lang regretted not coming with Xie Lian when after frantic search he found him nailed to an altar with hundred people killing and killing and killing his already tattered body. There was so much blood, so much red, Xie Lian was screaming, screaming, s c r e a m i n g and they were killing him, hurting him with a sword one after one, o n e a f t e r o n e a f t e r o n e—
San Lang didn’t even feel putting his own eye out, blinded by pure rage and panic.
All the people who were about to and already hurt Xie Lian were lying on the ground with only San Lang standing with a cursed, bloody scimitar held in one hand. What remained of Xie Lian was wheezing through punctured lungs, still on the altar. Tears and blood were pouring from San Lang’s remaining eye and his empty eye socket as he looked despairingly at his god. The unseeing honey brown eyes of his god looked back at him. He took one step towards the bloody altar before he disappeared in a blinding light.
********