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Wuming felt so untethered here. He was weak, too weak, but he couldn't give up. His highness had looked so sad when he'd left. He'd have to come back and help.
His hands were getting less shaky lately. With every statue he finished he felt a little more whole in his body. This is why I stay. He reminded himself with every bit of stone he chipped away. Xie Lian's face was burned in his mind, carved across his heart, and he had never been so glad for his good memory than he was every time he chiseled out the details of that smile.
Wuming closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the cool stone robes that flowed elegantly from his highness' statue body. He ached to kneel and pray. He yearned to touch something warm, firm and gentle.
He deserved neither.
Pulling back a bit, he looked up at that face, so much like it looked in his memory but... still it couldn't compare to his highness. He took another step back and, greedy and selfish as he was, he knelt.
"Wait for me, your highness. I promise I'll get out of here and come back to you."
The shaky unease in his chest steadied a bit more, as if his ghostly form grew stronger every time he worshipped. Maybe he did. This was why he stayed after all. He always felt most present when he was greedy like this.
An idea formed in his mind; selfish, selfish. He shouldn't. But if it might allow him to return to his highness' side sooner... And it wasn't as if anyone but him would ever know...
Hesitantly, Wuming got back up, staring up at the brilliant statue. Grabbing his work stool, he dragged it over and stood, face to face with the replica of his beloved. Beloved. It wasn't a word he allowed himself to acknowledge often. His highness was first and foremost his god. Any more would be shameless, selfish, disgusting of him. But if he was tethered here for his devotion... If he was strongest when he indulged in his devotion then...
Before he could talk himself out of it, Wuming surged forward to kiss the lifeless block of stone. It was quick and a bit unsatisfying, but it still left his head reeling. Disgusting. What would his highness think if he knew?
He'd forgive him. He felt sure of it. His beloved gave and gave and gave until there was nothing left of him to give after all. And he'd told Wuming to live for him. He'd never begrudge him this small affection with his image when it made Wuming feel so much more present and alive. As alive as a ghost could feel.
Nervous, he reached out to hold the cold stone hand in his own cold dead one, unabashed devotion clear on his face, though there was no one here to see it. "I'm sorry, your highness. Please wait for me."
****
Xie Lian felt so untethered here. It was different from the frantic, fearful emotions of his first banishment though. This was a calmer kind of untethered, but he still knew he had to pull himself out of it.
Most days he did well, and he thought he was getting slightly better. He still dreamed fitfully, but he was getting more used to running on little sleep.
Images of White No Face. Of Wuming. Memories and imagination mixed and merged into nonsensical but terrified dreams. It was fine though. This was what he deserved.
His luck was bad now. He was quickly getting accustomed to losing things. Company. Shelter. Food. He deserved nothing and his luck would let him keep nothing. This was good. This was penance. He needed to undergo the same harm he'd put his followers through. He needed to atone for the weight of what Wuming had gone through.
Besides, it wasn't all bad. He tried to do right by others and help where he could, and in turn he found the kindness of strangers gave occasional bright spots to his wavery existence.
Today was a bad day though. Not so much in his luck as in his body. He wasn't injured, at least he didn't think so, but he felt far away from his own skin, like he was watching someone else operate his arms and legs. It was a strange sort of disconnect, but not a completely bad feeling. Still, he did need to figure out how to reenter his body.
Xie Lian had laid down this morning in the field when the feeling had started and now the sun was beginning to set. He still felt paralyzed.
His hand closed around grass, dirt digging into his nails. It felt so far removed from him, but it was proof he could move at least. He turned his head to the side, finally trying to take in his surroundings instead of staring blankly at the sky. Next to him, a white flower blew a little in the wind.
He clenched his hands tighter, feeling the dirt digging under his nails this time. Distantly, he was almost sure there was a tightening in his chest. As though he was about to cry. It was probably because he hadn't slept more than a few hours in the past few days he was more emotional.
Part of him wanted to distance further from the feeling, but he stared at the flower and forced himself to feel. To feel the choked up tightness in his chest. To feel the wet, grainy dirt gathering in his hands. To feel the way the curl of his fingers snapped plant life with his tugging.
The flower remained still and steady except for the slight breeze. It was beautiful.
It was dark when Xie Lian finally realized he was sore. Feeling more like himself, he sat up. Leaves were tangled in his hair and mud had darkened his white robes. Still, he was at peace. Truly at peace, not just unable to inhabit himself.
He reached over, gently brushing his fingers against the delicate petals. "Thank you." Taking a deep breath, he dusted himself off and headed out to find a proper place to sleep for the night.
****
Hua Cheng looked for Xie Lian like it was second nature. He must grow stronger. He must have more power, more wealth. More of anything his highness may have use for.
Hua Cheng devoured knowledge and found a personal thrill in the task. He told himself it was for Xie Lian. He had to know things to be useful. He had to be well read so as not to embarrass his god. But deep down he knew it was more for his own self satisfaction at this point.
For so long, he’d only had fists and sheer willpower to fight his battles. He learned how to take a beating and keep getting back up. But the words on the page were a new kind of strength. He knew things now. He could be more than just a blunt instrument hurling himself endlessly into the flames. Hua Cheng never thought he was stupid, no matter what others said. They were the stupid ones. They were the ones who didn't see how incredible his highness was. The ones who burned temples for sport. The ones who couldn't see how dangerous Hua Cheng could be.
But now he knew so much. He knew gossip and myths and sifted through them to guess at the kernels of truth behind them. He knew literature and poetry and began to be able to form opinions on the styles and imagery used. He knew debate techniques now, the best way to tear someone to shreds with carefully ordered words. He had always known things most others around him didn’t seem to, but now he had facts and language to back it up. He liked being a new kind of dangerous.
Hua Cheng poured over the latest scroll he’d found accidentally while searching for his highness today. He took every opportunity to read, regardless of what it was about and this one seemed to be on poetry. It was lower on the list of his preferred subjects, but he read it nonetheless. No one would be able to say he was uncultured. He had already memorized well over fifty poems he could recite on command.
As his eyes traced over the poem, he felt something in him soften. He let his gaze sweep over it again, then again. He’d never been as intent to memorize a poem as he was now. He had half a mind to push every other poem from his memory even.
He was certain. To him, there would be no other poems that could measure up. This one felt so true. So perfectly phrased how he felt. Ache of Separation. The separation did cause a deep grief in him. Life did seem a bit less beautiful being without Him. Nothing could compare to his highness.
He recited it to himself until the lines felt burned into his vocal chords. Tomorrow he’d find his highness for sure. He just had to keep looking.
***
Xie Lian looked for the good in others like it was second nature. He always had, but now it was crucial. Now it was what gave him the strength to get up and try again every day. It wasn’t as if he could die, so he had to find the reasons to live.
He took to paying very close attention to little things. What most people considered the baseline for how their day would go, Xie Lian viewed as a good day. What most people thought of as a bad day, Xie Lian considered an average day. Most people didn’t imagine Xie Lian’s bad days.
There was always something when he was willing to look. Good weather during his travels. An affectionate furry friend. A meal, even if it wasn’t warm. There were many little nice things others often took for granted. Things Xie Lian had once taken for granted.
When he couldn’t find nice circumstances, he looked for beauty. Pretty flowers. The rain hitting the light just so. Even prettily decorated youths. Beauty could be found everywhere if he took the time to see it. He had higher standards than most due to his upbringing, but he could still appreciate what was around him.
Today was trending towards an average day, and one that was resisting giving him even tiny good things. Looking up from the ditch he’d fallen into, Xie Lian sighed. Based on the pain radiating up from his ankle, he’d probably broken or twisted something. It was sure to heal soon though, he just had to wait.
Ah, there was his good opportunity. Down in the coolness of the ditch and needing to sit for a bit, it was the perfect time to cultivate. Closing his eyes, he settled into position, ignoring the pain with a practiced ease.
He’d felt odd cultivating again at first. After all, he’d been the one to refuse Heaven the second time. He honestly didn’t want to ascend again really. It wasn’t time yet. He had more penance to do.
But… it felt right to do this. Cultivation had been his path for so long now. It fit him perfectly, sliding over his skin like the richest of silks. Just like when he chose it all those years ago, it was still all he could imagine doing. When he started he wanted to save the common people. Now he just wanted to do right by others. Same dream, just a bit less dramatic. A bit more achievable.
What would he even do if he ascended, he wondered, his own thoughts interrupting his cultivation for a moment. Did he want to be a martial god again? Solve his problems with a sword and godly might? That didn’t sound right. He hadn’t held a sword in a long time now. Maybe he never would again. Ha. A martial god without a sword.
It didn’t do to dwell on it. Either he’d ascend or he wouldn’t. There was nothing he could do about the future. Right now he had the opportunity to do good in the mortal realm and he would take it. Right now he’d been blessed with the chance to cultivate in this ditch and he would take it.
****
Every passing day Hua Cheng felt more hopeless. It had been centuries and he still couldn’t find him. His god deserved better. How worthless could a follower be?
Hua Cheng had built a name for himself now. He’d defeated gods. Gained human followers. Extraordinary spiritual powers.
He had an entire city even! Just like Xie Lian had said, wicked and ghostly things should be sold somewhere specialized, where the ignorant could be spared. All for Xie Lian.
And if it was also possibly for the ghosts who were targeted just for existing to have somewhere to call home, that was no one's business really.
The halls of Paradise Manor felt endless tonight. They made his skin itch. He headed towards his quarters, eying the bed but drawing away from it. Did his highness have a bed tonight? He hoped so. He would’ve given his own up if he could.
Unsure where exactly he was headed, he found himself in front of the mirror, practicing shifting skins again. It came naturally now. It felt very right. He liked himself like this, until he didn’t again. Because it was always fun at first. He liked the way he could manipulate himself into the guise of his choice. He liked that he had the power to control how other people saw him.
The problem was, he still only saw himself. No matter how many times he changed skins, it was the same failure staring back at him. I’m doing my best. But his best wasn’t good enough. It had never been good enough.
Hua Cheng set down the mirror and resumed pacing. What form would his highness prefer? Someone beautiful, that was for sure. He couldn’t burden his highness’ eyes with an ugly form.
A man, he thought. He’d toyed with female skins before. They suited him well enough when he had the passing fancy, but his highness had never seemed to give women any particular attention. His potential harem candidates were notoriously neglected in favor of cultivation.
So a man then. Someone educated too. His highness was a prince after all, he’d had many tutors. He’d need someone who could keep up with conversations. So Hua Cheng would need to look a bit wealthy to explain how he knew so much.
But… someone in need of help perhaps. His highness was always so kind after all. Maybe a runaway young lord? He switched through different skins and different outfits without checking a mirror until he finally settled on one. Like this, he had a heartbeat and a breath again. It was odd.
He looked down at his arm, seeing the familiar tattoo. He left it on in all his skins. Tracing the pattern, he wondered if his highness would like this version of himself. He wondered if his highness would like any version of him actually.
Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like he could find him anyways.
***
Every passing day Xie Lian felt more comfortable with life. It had been centuries after all. Centuries of being mostly by himself had left him with that happy sort of eccentricity that old people were prone to. He cared very little what others thought at this point in his life. There was little that could shame him that he hadn’t been through already.
He spent his time doing very little, but he thought it was nice. Everyone should slow down a bit more. The slow bits were where the best parts happened in his opinion. So he let himself be aimless.
He cultivated. He busked. He started scrap collecting. For a time he’d been a Guoshi, but he didn’t think he wanted to do that again. Even ignoring how it had ended, the position had been so stiff and serious. Things were easier when he could do and say what he pleased and just let people believe he was crazy.
The road felt endless tonight though. He hadn’t seen a town for a few days and normally it wouldn’t bother him, but he found himself longing for a good conversation. After all, Ruoye was a great listener, but it didn’t contribute much. Still, there wasn’t anyone else to talk to.
“What do you think the next town will be like?” Xie Lian asked.
Ruoye fluttered against his arm to acknowledge the question, but clearly couldn’t respond to such a thing. He’d already known that though. They both knew that.
“Probably a farming village, something small. It’s too far from everything to be a city.”
Ruoye said nothing. Xie Lian didn’t take it personally.
“Hopefully they’ll want some extra hands. Do you remember the last village, when they let us stay the night with them? That was some of the best food I’ve had in years.”
Ruoye poked at his sleeve.
“Oh yes, she mended my clothes didn’t she? That was very kind of her. I hope they’re doing well.”
When Ruoye didn’t answer this time he let the conversation fade.
In truth, Xie Lian knew it was more than just conversation he wanted. No contact with people meant he’d been doing even less than usual. Leisure time was nice, he stood by that, but helping people was why he was here. If he spent too long without helping it was like his body itched with simmering anxieties. And if it went on too long he’d feel he was drifting out of his body again.
Of course, if he did too much and overexerted himself he’d feel like that too. Truly, everything was better in moderation.
He reached into his sleeve to stroke Ruoye, trying to stay grounded as he kept moving forward. Some days he was too tired to fight it and let himself dissociate, but not today. Today he wanted to fight it a bit longer.
He was almost there. He could do this.
***
In a small room on a quiet mountain, a god and a ghost lay face to face, tethered together by a red string on their clasped hands. Most times the string is invisible, but here, in their home, they leave it. A visible proof of their love, their anchor in front of them. They no longer fear fading or coming undone from their bodies. They are home.
In a small room on a quiet mountain, a god and a ghost do not search for anything at all. For the moment, everything they need is with them in the room. Their beloved, their home, their happiness. At some point they will need food and will cook together in a small corner of that quiet mountain cottage. At some point they will miss friends or find new scrolls to read or farms to plow and they’ll leave their small room to attend to those needs. But they do not have to search anymore. This is a time for rest.
In a small room on a quiet mountain, a god and a ghost grow happier and stronger and more in love with every passing day. The world is endless and they could go where they pleased. They have worshippers in breathtaking numbers, all shared and cherished between them, opening up their endless world more and more. But they do not need the endless world for this moment. They only need the miniature world of their cottage. At long last, they had made it to each other.