Archive of Our Own

I've been singing,
Even when you've told me to quiet.
I haven't been quiet.
I've been crying. I think you
Have forgiven me. You keep
Putting your hand on my shoulder
When I'm crying.
Thank you for that. And
For the ineffable sense
Of continuance. You were. You are
The brightest thing in the shop window
And the most beautiful seldom I ever saw.

You Were You Are Elegy by Mary Jo Bang

He awakes gently, pulled up to the surface of unconsciousness with no rush or desperation to him because he was able to breathe under. His eyes do not open, he indulges in the vestiges of tiredness like a child that can’t get enough of playing with a new toy. No one rushes him, but he feels the weight of a loving gaze taking him in. The man next to him barely moves, he does not breathe—at all, though lately he’s been breathing a lot more, the reasons still unknown to Xie Lian—yet it’s impossible to ignore his presence. He doesn’t even want to, that’s why he opens his eyes to meet the beautiful image he gets to see first thing every morning.

Naked face and naked chest on display next to him. A warm, welcoming smile across his lips. A gentle tone that melts him like wax. “Beloved, did I wake you? I apologize.”

Xie Lian smiles, and reaches out to rest a hand on the bare shoulder of his lover. His fingers skim down his pale skin until he traces across where a heartbeat should drum against. “San Lang did not. Good morning.”

For how much Hua Cheng has spent worshipping him, even during the times he was not fit to be worshipped, he does not touch Xie Lian like a fragile sculpture. His hands are strong and warm when they cup Xie Lian’s face, and his mouth is reverent yet far from bashful when he kisses Xie Lian’s own. He hopes to never satiate his hunger so his lover can seek his fill forever in him. “Good morning, gege. What would you like to do today?”

There is always tangible interest in Hua Cheng’s questions. Each day he’s given the choice to do whatever he wants, either with him or by himself. Some mornings he plays this little game in which he rushes to come up with something ridiculous, whatever stupid thing he can formulate, just to see if his husband agrees to it. Last week, on a rainy morning that loomed grey over Puqi Shrine, he proposed running outside and playing in the rain as though they were two kids. Hua Cheng, the fearsome ghost king, the merciless Supreme, followed him under the rain and chased him until they fell into a puddle and kissed between chuckles. Now they’re in Paradise Manor, though the fact does not change much since he knows he’ll be granted anything he desires.

With his fingers buried in Hua Cheng’s unbound hair, his eyes locked with Hua Cheng’s own, he mumbles, “I would like to stay with you a little longer. Do you have things to deal with?”

Hua Cheng pecks him. He then buries his face in Xie Lian’s neck. “Just a few useless trash loitering around the city. Yin Yu can make a bigger effort in controlling them for now.”

“Is it too urgent?” Xie Lian asks. He strokes Hua Cheng’s naked back, and sighs when he feels the wetness and hotness of a kiss against his pulse point.

“Not at all. Does gege need me to help him out first?”

Xie Lian doesn’t need to answer for his lover to understand that, yes, he does need help, and he wants this ardent, sudden need to be prioritized. Some mornings are void of ridiculous ideas and filled with ache to have Hua Cheng surrounding him, all around him, deep inside him. Their bedroom floods with their sounds as Xie Lian loses himself and becomes only what Hua Cheng wants him to be. Hua Cheng never fails to break him apart and put him back together seamlessly.

He begins his day after they’re fully sated, though only for a while, and if anyone notices how dazed he is as he carries on with his daily tasks, they do not tell. They wouldn’t know how blissful he feels. If they did, they wouldn’t blame him for being a bit clumsier, a lot evidently enamored, and they wouldn’t judge his bedazzled smile. He doesn’t care, never has and never will. They cannot smell his husband’s scent etched on their own skin.

His husband is busy every day, though the range of his busy time varies a lot. Being in charge of a whole city of ghosts demands he, once in a while, takes care of matters no one else would be able to. Xie Lian knows the man would drop everything in less than a second if Xie Lian asked him to, but he hasn’t yet tested it out—he wouldn’t want to, anyway. As much as he misses Hua Cheng constantly, he knows it’s fine if they’re apart for some time. After all, they won’t ever have to part again. While away from him, Xie Lian has time at his mercy to do with it whatever he wishes. He does use it to answer prayers, on most days, and some others he strolls across Ghost City just for kicks. The ghosts seem to genuinely like him, parallel to worshipping him just for being their master’s lover. He enjoys their company and their attention, likes making friends and having drinkable tea with those old ghosts that share a couple of stories with him.

In all vast honesty, he has lost track of the time he has been officially living in Ghost City with his husband. Surely it has been more than a year, though he wouldn’t be able to assure whether ten or a hundred years have passed. There is no use in him counting days, months and years when there is infinity stretched out before him, a never ending path he walks alongside his beloved.

With time, the Ghost City streets have become familiar to him, and he pretty much recalls every one of the ghosts whose street stalls he walks by nearly every day and often stays for a while to chatter. He prefers the mornings to walk around, though the only relevant differences between the early hours of the days and the nights here are the sunlight dripping down on the streets and the vacancy of them; ghosts don’t really like natural light, so the city is quieter and more tranquil, only a quarter of its usual inhabitants at their respective stalls and strolling down the city. The spirits are always overeager to have Xie Lian buy from them, whether it’s trinkets and jewels, or just have a meal, and he most often gives in when he finds a certain object to gift his husband and when he deems the food edible enough.

As soon as he steps in front of a certain shop, well known to him, the owner materializes before him. A tiger spirit looms tall over Xie Lian, his paws folded against his stomach, and bows to him. “Xie-daozhang! Good morning, Your Highness! May you indulge me in drinking a cup of tea? Absolutely my treat, please come in!”

“Zhou Yu, good morning, I have come here indeed for it,” Xie Lian replies kindly, smiling in return at the spirit’s widening smile, sharp fangs in full display.

The spirit guides him inside the restaurant. “I have carefully picked the best tea leaves for you, Your Highness, I hope you like the brew. Please have a seat, I will quickly bring you your breakfast.”

In all honesty, Xie Lian enjoys spending his mornings here. Of course he would much rather have breakfast with his husband, but his beloved had been required after their early morning activities and left to deal with certain issues. This is his favorite shop, mostly empty at this hour, and the owner’s unfaltering attention isn’t uncomfortable. So far, nothing he has drank or eaten here has upset his stomach, so that is also a plus. Zhou Yu returns with a full set of teacups and teapot on a tray surrounded by delicacies Xie Lian wants to decline and reassure he does not need such extravagance—a bun would have sufficed, he will probably have lunch with his husband later—, and bows reverently at him before leaving to tend other customers. It really is too much food and tea for one. Xie Lian stares at the tray on the table in front of him with a troubled expression and sighs. There is nothing he can do about the way Ghost City pampers him, no way to convince them of treating him like a simple cultivator.

He might ask to take the leftovers with him and gift them to the ghost kids that tend to hide in the cranes and nooks of the city, or perhaps take them to the villagers back in Puqi Shrine in lieu of gratitude at how they take care of his half temple half cottage. The tea is certainly delicious, Zhou Yu has never disappointed him, though he would still drink anything he offers merely out of kindness at how nice the spirit is always to him. He thinks he should bring his husband along some time, he would surely be delighted by the place and the food they serve.

The ambiance shifts around Xie Lian in the blink of an eye as he sips from his cup. His senses heighten as he perceives a gaze on him, heavy and unwavering. It is improbable that whoever is staring at him so pointedly means harm, both because every ghost and spirit here respects him (and fear Hua Cheng) and given his expertise at handling dangerous situations. He surveys the hall nearly void of customers, only Xie Lian at his table, a group of ghost ladies gathered some tables away from him, and a woman sitting by the far end of the room. The woman meets his eyes and doesn’t look away, big eyes adorning her otherwise steady features. Xie Lian squints at her, takes in her presence—she doesn’t look menacing in the slightest but rather downright sad, a tad scared perhaps. She certainly isn’t the first soul adrift he has encountered in his life. Some spirits end up here, lost and unable to let go of grief in order to pass on.

Xie Lian gestures with his hand at her to come forth. No one is paying attention to him, but he can see the way her eyes widen in surprise before she rises from her seat and slowly walks to him. From up close, Xie Lian notices details he had missed before, such as the silver jewelry she dons, bracelets, necklaces and earrings, and her evidently well-worn robes that still seem to hold a certain uniqueness woven in the fabrics. She stands unmoving before him, fright across her face as though she were a little child even if she looks a few years older than Xie Lian. She is beautiful, a sort of astounding beauty that would leave anyone turning heads to catch her sight. He guesses she must have passed from illness at a young age, her thinness and paleness telltale signs. “Madam, please sit. Would you like to eat with me? I have plenty to share, it’d be a pity to let it go to waste.”

He does not let her terror condition him, so he treats her gently. Most errant souls here have never experienced kindness. Having her here he confirms there is no killing intent to her. The woman does as asked, her motions slow and mute. When she’s seating across Xie Lian, her mouth opens, and it takes a few seconds for her voice to come out. “Do you live here?”

Xie Lian smiles. “I do,” he replies as he fetches a cup and fills it with the tea before sliding it towards her. “Do you?”

She observes the cup while she answers. “No. I ended up here—I don’t know how, before you ask.” Her tone is bordering on hostile, but Xie Lian cannot take offense at how small her voice is.

“Have you been wandering for long?” Ghosts often end up in Hua Cheng’s domain in search for refuge, so this woman might’ve been chased away by a greater force.

She nods. “Many years. I have lost track of time,” she says, her shoulders rising as if wanting to hide away.

“Did someone harm you so you ended up here?”

“No. I can’t remember how I came to find this place.”

Xie Lian frowns. It is always painful to find a helpless soul unable to pass on. “Are you searching for someone?” At his question, she looks up at him. “Or are you searching for revenge?” The last question he asks in a whisper, she doesn’t seem the type to harbor resentment.

She sighs. “Those who wronged me when I was alive have already died. Unlike me, they are able to rest in peace. I cannot seek revenge, nor do I want to.”

“Did you suffer a painful death?” Xie Lian asks carefully.

“My death was the imminent result of an illness,” she explains. Xie Lian had been right about his guesses so far. She doesn’t seem willing to share any more details unless Xie Lian specifically asks about them, and Xie Lian doesn’t think it’ll be proper to meddle so much, no matter how much he wants to help her.

“Do you know why you are unable to pass on?”

Her eyes close in a painful expression. For a moment, Xie Lian believes she’s either on the verge of tears or preparing for lashing out at him and their surroundings. He holds his breath and waits for the worst outcome, but nothing of the sort comes; she rises from her seat slowly, eyes not meeting Xie Lian’s but downcast, her hands joined against her stomach. “I have taken too much of your time, you look like you are a very important man here. My apologies.”

She turns under Xie Lian’s gaze, and before she leaves, Xie Lian says, “I would like to help you find peace. I do not wish to intrude, but if ever you need to confide in someone, I am more than ready to listen.”

Nothing comes out of her. With her back turned to him, she strides away with slow steps. Xie Lian watches her exit the restaurant, a brand new weight in the center of his chest at being unable to help her and soothe her pain in however way he can. Zhou Yu rushes to him with a wild expression, fiery expression, paws on the table and claws out menacingly. “Your Highness, did that woman bother you? I can have her punished for it, just say the word, I’ll even make sure to tell Hua Chengzhu personally,” he says eagerly.

Xie Lian shakes his hands in front of the tiger, grimacing. “Please don’t, I promise she means no harm,” he clarifies. He’s a little endeared by how offended Zhou Yu is on his behalf, even more so when he’s aware of just how scared he is of Hua Cheng, much like everyone around here.

Once he has convinced Zhou Yu that he is completely safe and unharmed, he finishes his tea, but cannot force himself to stomach more than that. He looks pitifully at the food left untouched, wondering why exactly he has allowed this ghost to leave him so disturbed when he barely knows her story. It is not the first time he has felt compassion towards someone like her, usually it happens when he sees the spirits of tiny kids playing around the city, pulling on his robes to get Xie Lian to play with them, displaying the evidence of their most often violent deaths. It takes him some time to push past that foreign type of sadness, and it’s always his husband the one who helps him. As of now, he cannot brush the encounter off so easily, and he does not know why.

He takes the food with him, and marches straight to the Gambler’s Den. It is not an usual occurrence of his to bother his husband at work, but he supposes Hua Cheng could forgive him for the intrusion today. Not that the man hasn’t made it obvious how he’d drop everything in a heartbeat for him, and not that Xie Lian doesn’t love the idea. Still, he tries not to cling too much solely because he knows that as soon as they get together, no force in any realm can pull them apart. It’d be rather inconvenient for the Master of Ghost City to halt his activities every day whenever they miss each other too much.

Even if it is morning time, inside the Den it makes no difference whether the sun is up or down. The same chaotic scenes are always raging on, screams and insults floating in the clogged up air, the stench of blood, gore, tears and pain always sharp until one gets used to it. No one bats an eye at him, too engrossed in betting away vital organs or their own children, yet Xie Lian would be lying if he said he’s disturbed by them. He has simply learned to take it as it is and, besides, he’s not here for any of them but for his lover.

Even if no one seems to notice him, he knows they do, because no one stops him from walking up the stairs leading to where Hua Cheng sits behind the crimson curtains. His husband isn’t alone, Xie Lian recognizes Yin Yu standing by the ghost king draped across his throne, the assistant’s mask not covering his face this time but hanging from his hand. Both men glance his way and Hua Cheng’s expression morphs from bored to joyful, bolting up and rushing to Xie Lian, sporting a big, gorgeous smile. Yin Yu bows from his spot, and Xie Lian smiles at him in return before Hua Cheng is pulling him into a tight hug.

“Gege, what a wonderful surprise having you here,” he greets as Xie Lian hugs his waist. He chuckles at his words, it hasn’t been more than a few hours since they parted to start their days, but he can relate to the feeling behind his husband’s words.

“I thought I could pay you a visit. Are you busy? I can wait for you back home,” Xie Lian says.

Hua Cheng pulls back enough to cup his face, thumbing his cheekbone. “None of that, I am not busy, Yin Yu was just leaving,” he replies. Behind him, Xie Lian catches the sight of Yin Yu frowning, eyes moving to the upper outer corner as if doubtful, before he places the mask back on his face and swiftly runs downstairs. “Gege, is there something wrong?” Hua Cheng asks, this time his tone not as chirpy but hinting concern.

“Ah, San Lang, it’s nothing,” he tries. His hands rest on top of Hua Cheng’s own in a poor attempt at easing him. Hua Cheng frowns, evidently unconvinced. “I, uh, I just had a talk with a ghost lady that left me a little distraught, but that’s all, I promise.”

Hua Cheng’s gaze shifts, a threatening aura overcoming him. His hands leave Xie Lian’s face and trail down his arms until they clutch Xie Lian’s own. “Who was it? Did she harm you?”

“No, no, she did not do anything, I swear,” he reassures his husband. His words are of little help to lessen his frown. “She was just very sad, and it made me sad too. I wanted to help her, but I couldn’t.”

“Gege, don’t feel the need to cover anyone who might’ve bothered you. These trash know better than to endanger my beloved,” Hua Cheng musters, his voice suddenly too low. There is a warning hidden in his words that Xie Lian know isn’t directed to him.

Xie Lian can’t hide his smile. “Believe me, no one has harmed me.” He lands a kiss to the corner of his husband’s lips. “Besides, you know I am capable of fending for myself. I just wanted to see you to feel less sad.”

Hua Cheng doesn’t waste his chance to kiss Xie Lian right on the lips, soft yet intently. “Let’s leave this place, I’ll take care of gege,” he mutters against Xie Lian’s mouth.

Hua Cheng rolls his dice and takes both of them to Paradise Manor, his vice-like grip around Xie Lian’s waist never loosening nor the man showing any signs of letting go soon. Xie Lian likes it, there is no use in denying it, so he leans even closer, one of his arms around Hua Cheng’s back and his hand fisting the fabric of his robes. Hua Cheng makes quick work of ordering food from the kitchen staff, and promptly guides Xie Lian to the back gardens where they sit under the largest cherry blossom tree. The table between them is the only thing separating their bodies, though their hands are still intertwined on the surface. His husband seems to have cooled down significantly, though his attention is fully perched on Xie Lian.

“Did you not have matters to deal with?” Xie Lian asks, smirking, though there is a spark of guilt somewhere deep in his heart. How did he turn so needy in a matter of hours? He promises himself not to let it happen again.

“I have dealt with them, the rest is for Yin Yu to deal with,” Hua Cheng answers simply.

“I feel like I kidnapped you from your job,” Xie Lian comments.

Hua Cheng brings one of his hands to his face, delicately pressing his lips against Xie Lian’s knuckles, parsimoniously kissing one by one. “There is nothing more crucial to me than you. Does gege want to tell me what happened with that trash ghost?”

“Only if you promise not to hurt her,” Xie Lian conditions him.

Hua Cheng purses his lips and nods. There is really not much to tell, but Xie Lian gives him every detail of his encounter with that ghost lady. He explains how he felt at seeing her so helpless, and discloses how he would like to help her pass on even if he has no idea whether he’ll see her again. Hua Cheng rarely cares about anyone that isn’t Xie Lian, it’s no novelty to him, but he does appreciate the genuine effort he puts into soothing his anguish. It is liberating to speak to his husband about it, and he does feel much better once he’s done. The food arrives, and he suddenly remembers the breakfast he had saved into his sleeves to share with Hua Cheng. It’s easier to smile and laugh after lifting off that weight off his chest, even more so when his husband demands to be hand fed the delicacies from the restaurant, pouting when Xie Lian jokingly chastises him and then smiling triumphantly when Xie Lian gives in.

“Gege shouldn’t bother much with these errant spirits. It is not your duty to help them,” Hua Cheng says as they eat. Xie Lian knows the ghost king isn’t ordering him around but rather attempting to keep him from worrying needlessly.

“I know. Still…if I do find her again, I would like to aid her. Maybe I’ll need your help for it,” he comments.

“Whatever gege needs,” Hua Cheng reassures him. “As long as you are in no harm,” he adds in a rush.

Xie Lian laughs loudly at his worrywart of a husband. He loves him so much, the love radiating from every pore of his skin, rooted right into the marrow of his bones. There is no greater fortune than having him love him back.

Xie Lian finds her again a month or so later, wandering the busy streets of the city, lost in the crowds of ghosts parading the place. He had not been searching for her since the first time they met, their encounter nearly all lost and forgotten in a corner of his brain, yet her exhausted face and saddened eyes are not memories Xie Lian could simply let himself discard. He stops his pacing and watches her walk amidst the sea of boisterous spirits, her head turning frantically, eyes wide, as if desperately searching for something or someone. The ghosts around her are large, beastly looking, so they do not even glance in her direction and probably do not even feel her body against them when they push her carelessly. She’s coming Xie Lian’s way, but she isn’t looking forward, and when Xie Lian stops her with gentle hands on her shoulders, she seems frightened for a moment before she seems to realize she knows him.

“Madam, don’t be afraid, it’s okay,” Xie Lian tries to appease her.

Her breathing is labored, as if she has forgotten she is a ghost and does not need to breathe. “You again—I had been hoping to find you,” she cries, clutching Xie Lian’s arms back. Her desperation is weighing her down, a contagious thing that seeps into Xie Lian’s skin.

“I am here, please calm down,” Xie Lian asks her. Swiftly, he pulls her out of the crowd and guides her to one of the stalls he knows are often not overflowing with people. The owner rushes to him, claiming he has some special dishes, but he kindly refuses and only asks for a place to sit with the woman. The ghost owner eyes her with disinterest and directs them to a table, not leaving without whispering in Xie Lian’s ear that if she causes him trouble he will deal with her personally.

As soon as they’re alone, the woman speaks in a broken voice. “I remembered. I knew I was searching for someone, you asked me but I couldn’t remember.”

Her glistening eyes make Xie Lian just as forlorn as the first time he saw her, perhaps even more. “Tell me, if you wish. I will help you find them.”

“My son. My only son, I lost him so long ago when I passed. I have roamed the country for endless years and have not found him.”

It makes sense that her desperate search for her child is what’s keeping her tied to the ghost realm. Xie Lian’s brows knit as he chooses his words carefully. “I am so sorry to hear that, but I am afraid there is a high chance that your son has passed on already,” he explains.

She shakes her head fervently. “No, it cannot be, I have to find him.”

Xie Lian internally curses himself for having made her even more upset. “Madam, most ghosts end up here seeking asylum. If he is here, we will find him. Would that help you be in peace?”

She nods slowly. “I only want to see him. I would be happy just seeing him, I lost him when he was just a child,” she says.

Xie Lian considers their options as of now; there is no way that her son is alive, but perhaps he hasn’t passed on yet. He knows he shouldn’t promise such impossible things as finding a person he doesn’t know whether is in this realm or not and doesn’t know what he looks like, probably something even his own mother ignores. “As a mother, do you feel he could have been lingering here just like you?”

She clutches her chest, her silver jewelry catching the lantern light surrounding them. “He is here. He needs to be here. If I don’t find him, I will have to let go, and I don’t want to, not yet,” she says. Determination flashes across her face, and Xie Lian gets the feeling that she must have been a fierce woman and mother during her lifetime. “I need to see him, I’ve left him so alone,” she mutters, and the tears from her eyes finally spill.

“Your death was not your fault, Madam,” Xie Lian soothes.

She dries her face hastily, as if enraged by her own tears. “I spent most of his life ill. I could’ve done so much more to protect him. I left him in the hands of people who did not care for him.”

“I am sure he was very happy while he had you, and he would never blame you for having died,” Xie Lian says with conviction. “For all we know, he could’ve enjoyed a very joyful life.”

She perks up at his words, and then her brows furrow. “What guarantee can you give me?”

“No guarantee,” Xie Lian admits. “Neither can I assure that your son is here, but I can tell you that I want to help you, and I will if you want me to.”

She stares at him silently for a moment. Doubt overtakes her face. “What power do you have here? How will you help me?”

“In truth, I do not have any power here,” he says. He doesn’t mention that he is a God simply because he believes it will do nothing to aid her nor would she be interested in it. He doesn’t like flaunting his title needlessly, not now that he has a wonderful life and not much of it can be attributed to ascending. He could even say that his greatest joy is the biggest enemy of the heavens. “But my husband does.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “And your husband is…?” She asks, suddenly defensive.

Xie Lian understands her lack of trust, and can’t help but smile at her. “He is the master of this city. I will ask him to search for any spirit that might be looking for his mother, or perhaps holding onto some type of grudge linked to her passing.”

Her jaw drops for a second but she quickly recovers from her shock. “I—I wouldn’t ask for anyone’s help if I could resolve this on my own,” she states, traces of her fierceness in her demeanor. “But I am tired. I have been tired all these years, I was tired for most of my life. This is my last chance.”

Xie Lian’s stomach twists uncomfortably at her agony, a sign that he has to do whatever it takes to grant her last wish and give her the chance to pass on. “I will meet you tomorrow night, and hopefully will give you some answers. Most ghosts here won’t help you freely, but if you ask around they will tell you where Paradise Manor is. Tomorrow night, ask for Xie Lian, and I will see you.”

She nods once as Xie Lian rises to his feet. He would like to stay longer and find more details that could help both of them in her search of her son, but the urge to find his husband and ask for his aid is greater. He leaves the woman with some advice on how to get by in such chaotic city as this one and a promise to see her the following night, and immediately reaches out for Hua Cheng through their communication array.

“San Lang, are you busy?” He asks.

Hua Cheng’s reply comes soft and sweet. “Not for my gege. I am home waiting for your return,” he says with a theatrical sigh.

“I am coming, and I need a favor from you,” Xie Lian comments.

As he had expected, Hua Cheng is equal parts curious and worried. Xie Lian has to reassure him nothing has happened to him and give him a few kisses just to make his husband trust his word and earn some smiles from him before he gets to explain what happened.

Hua Cheng is leaning his back half and half against the armrest and the backrest of the divan, watching Xie Lian attentively and listening to him talk. After the flurry of words are finished spilling from Xie Lian’s mouth, Hua Cheng is no stranger to Xie Lian’s anguish about the subject, and he pulls Xie Lian closer to him until he’s resting atop of his own body. The closeness is automatically alleviating, Hua Cheng’s hands stroking his back and hair a wonderful balm.

“It will be complicated to find her son, if he even is here,” Hua Cheng explains. “But it will not be impossible. Given how this is a dire issue for gege, I will send Yin Yu to survey the city and find him.”

Xie Lian nuzzles his husband’s neck, hugging his waist. His body molds against Hua Cheng’s so easily, their legs entangled and fronts flush to one another. “If we could help her, it’d mean a lot to me.”

“I will do whatever helps you be at ease, beloved,” Hua Cheng mutters.

Xie Lian melts, endeared from head to toe. “My husband seems to want to spoil me rotten.”

“This husband is in love with your enormous heart,” Hua Cheng replies tenderly. “Gege should know that even if the search is fruitless, you still had the best intentions.”

“I know, but a part of her is holding onto that hope. The other part is ready to finally let go, and I think that even if we cannot find him, it’d be better for her knowing that he has already passed on.”

It takes a moment for Hua Cheng to reply. “If Dianxia wishes, I will meet her alongside you.”

Xie Lian moves to look at his face, propping himself up on his husband’s chest. “Ah, San Lang, you don’t need to,” he says, biting his lip.

Hua Cheng cups his face, brushing a strand of hair behind Xie Lian’s ear. “Would you want me to?” he asks earnestly.

“It would be nice, but I don’t want to keep San Lang busy with my affairs. I know you would rather not meddle in these ghosts’ troubles.”

“I do not care for them, but I care for you. I will come along to help you however I can.”

Xie Lian smiles, warmth blooming at his chest. “Then this husband is very grateful,” he states. He inches closer to peck his husband’s lips, lingering there until the Supreme deepens the kiss and Xie Lian gets willfully lost in the softness of his mouth to the point nothing exists but him, no realm could ever hold any relevance to him when they’re so immersed in one another.

Yin Yu shows up in Paradise Manor when the sun sets, his mask drawn to the side, his solemn expression on full display. He finds Xie Lian and Hua Cheng in the hall and bows courteously a them. “Taizi-dianxia, there is a ghost lady looking for you. I can send her away, though she seems rather insistent.”

Xie Lian catches sight of his husband rolling his eyes. “No, I was expecting her, please take us to her,” he replies.

Yin Yu gives his master a single look before nodding and leading them outside the manor and around, to the garden, where Xie Lian spots the now familiar figure of the woman looking for their aid. As they walk closer, Hua Cheng dismisses his assistant before glancing at Xie Lian and sending a warm smile his way, their hands naturally joined and fingers interlaced the way it’s meant to be. Xie Lian returns the smile and focuses on the end of the pathway where the woman awaits, his heartbeat quickening for reasons unknown to himself. More than anything, he wishes her to be able to rest in peace, whether they find her son or not. He can feel how she has surely been a very kindhearted woman during her life, and if her situation weren’t so unfortunate, he’d like to be her friend.

Once they’re close enough that Xie Lian can see her expression has transformed from frightened to sober, the first to react is, surprisingly, Hua Cheng. He halts his step and tightens his grip around Xie Lian’s hand with a foreign kind of strength. In his grip, Xie Lian feels a newfound sensation of vulnerability. His memory isn’t so good after more than eight hundred years of living, yet the way Hua Cheng clings to him is enough for Xie Lian to recall the way he did the same when he was no more than a broken child.

When Xie Lian glances at his husband he sees consternation plastered across his face. His already pale complexion has turned corpse white. He doesn’t even blink, his single eye focused on the woman before them. There is no one else but her around, and Xie Lian’s instinct kicks in before he knows it, making him shield Hua Cheng with his body. Hua Cheng lets go of his hand and stays still behind Xie Lian, though his voice is shattered when he finally speaks. “Mother?”

Time slows around Xie Lian. The woman gasps as he clutches Hua Cheng’s arm and notices him shaking, his own jaw dropping just like hers. She runs to them and time returns to its normal speed the moment she presses her thin body against Hua Cheng’s front, her arms fastened around his waist. Xie Lian steps aside without even noticing his feet moving, entranced by the scene; Hua Cheng looks thrown off, yet it only takes him a second to wrap his own arms around the woman’s figure, shorter than him and nearly minuscule in his hold.  His uncovered eye is wide and glossy and unfocused, and Xie Lian cannot tear his own gaze from his husband’s face. What are the odds that this woman is simply similar to the memory Hua Cheng has of his mother? She could have mistaken him for his son in her desperation to find him, though Xie Lian feels deep in his core that this is no casualty.

The woman’s hands shake as she pulls apart to hold Hua Cheng’s face. “My darling. My son. Is it you? Is it really you?”

Hua Cheng stares down at her and his face crumples, his own hands covering hers. “Mother, it’s me, why am I finding you here? Why are you here?” He asks brokenly, reproach flowing in his tone. Pain stretches across his face, so tangent that Xie Lian can feel it too.

“I have looked for you for so long, I don’t know how much time has passed. This was my last chance,” she mutters. Her hands slide down Hua Cheng’s chest, clutching the red fabric he dons. She shakes her head. “I had hoped you had been able to rest in peace.”

Xie Lian’s throat tightens. The regret in her words seeps deep into his bones and fills him with guilt. Hua Cheng grasps her shoulders. “I am at peace, you are not, otherwise you would not be here. Mother, I have missed you for countless years, but this is not where I wanted to meet you again.”

She bows her head, forehead pressed against Hua Cheng’s chest. “You have been through so much, and I could not keep you from harm. It is only fair I’ve wandered for so long to see you again.”

Xie Lian is overcome in an instant with the sudden realization that he’s an intruder. This is something he might not be supposed to witness. The raw anguish they radiate mixes in with the sheer love only a mother and her child can share, and though he considers leaving silently as to not disturb them, he cannot find it in himself to stop watching them. From the outside, all he sees is the way only they exist for one another. It is as heartbreaking as it is endearing. Xie Lian observes his husband’s pained expression lessen just enough to meet his eyes, looking surprised as though he had forgotten Xie Lian was near. “Mother, rest assured, I am not in any type of pain now.” The way he says it gently while also staring at Xie Lian makes the latter sense his words are also directed at him.

“Souls that wander are not souls at ease,” she replies, a sadness to her that seems impossible to alleviate. Her lips tug up in the bitterest smile as she looks up at her son—her son, still her child despite the years that have gone by, the war, the deaths. Xie Lian’s chest aches as she slowly turns her face to look at him. “That cultivator has kept his promise and led me to you, son. I have nothing but gratefulness to offer,” she says to Hua Cheng.

Hua Cheng’s face finally softens completely and he smiles Xie Lian’s way. “That cultivator happens to be my beloved, mother. I am also thankful to him.”

She takes a tiny step back from her son, her features twisting into utter shock. “He—” Realization seems to hit her all at once, and Xie Lian can’t hold back from smiling as she stares back at Hua Cheng. “You are the master of this city. He mentioned that.”

Hua Cheng nods. He’s gentle in a way Xie Lian has only known whenever he’s the recipient of such warmth. His smile widens at the evidence that his husband holds so much love in him yet only chooses to share it with certain people. “I am. And my husband is incredibly generous and good, way more than I am, so it is all thanks to him that we’ve found each other.”

Xie Lian lets out a shy giggle, shaking his hands in refusal. “Please, do not say such things. It is a great coincidence San Lang happens to be her son, but I would have helped her even if you were not.”

The woman raises her eyebrows and smiles. “My son, your husband is certainly good,” she says. There’s a teasing edge to her tone that assures Xie Lian the ambiance has lightened.

Hua Cheng smiles proudly and nods. “Mother, please accompany us inside our home. This is no place for us to talk.”

Xie Lian finds himself walking inside the Manor next to Hua Cheng, the Ghost King in between him and his mother, both his hands held. If he still feels as though this is a crazy dream, he can only imagine what Hua Cheng must be feeling right now. Xie Lian notices the servants glancing their way as they walk into the recreation hall, though he knows neither Hua Cheng or his mother are paying them any mind, busy sending smiles each other’s way. He spots Yin Yu as they make their way to the tea table, the assistant staring at him with utter confusion, and whispers to him that he will explain later and requests that he brings tea and food for them.

He settles by the table across from Hua Cheng, and his mother in between. The tiredness and apprehension that once seemed permanent on her have now disappeared to give place to contentment, her smile bright as she looks at her son. As soon as Xie Lian sits, she glares at him and smiles as well. Xie Lian returns the gesture and then looks at his husband. “San Lang, would you prefer I leave you two to talk comfortably?” He offers.

Hua Cheng’s expression sobers in a heartbeat. “Is gege uncomfortable here?”

“No, not at all, I just thought you might want to speak about certain things—”

“—I want gege here, as long as he wishes to stay,” Hua Cheng interjects, shaken as though Xie Lian hadn’t offered to leave them for a while but actually announced he was going to leave to never return.

Xie Lian sighs through his nose. Hua Cheng’s mother rests one of her pale, bony hands atop Xie Lian’s own. “I would love to have you here. My son wants you here.”

There’s certain authority in her voice, though what Xie Lian senses the most it’s her honesty. He wouldn’t get in the way of a mother and her son reuniting and spending time together after more than eight hundred years apart, but he’s glad to be included. Hua Cheng is beaming from having her here, and nothing makes Xie Lian happier than his husband’s joy. He nods and smiles. “Thank you. I am glad to be here.”

She pulls her hand back gently and speaks again. “You’ve mentioned your name is Xie Lian, if I’m not mistaken.”

Xie Lian has never been subjected to something of the sort; back when he was a prince he did have some offers to marry, all of them arranged by some other people in his kingdom, but none of them ever amounted to anything serious. He never thought there’d come a day in which he had to meet his spouse’s parents—in this case, his Ghost King’s ghost mother. It does make him feel a little nervous, but Hua Cheng’s reassuring smile is enough for him not to turn into a mess. “Yes, that’s my name, ” he replies carefully.

Hua Cheng’s mother narrows her eyes at him. “Were you named after the Prince of Xian Le?”

Xie Lian’s face heats up. He notices his husband laughing under his breath. “I—I was the Crown Prince, many years ago,” he answers timidly.

She widens her eyes. “I thought you were a ghost,” she says, disbelief overtaking her. She turns to her son and grabs his arm. “You are full of surprises, child. It isn’t every day one marries royalty!”

Xie Lian covers his face in embarrassment, though he can feel the honesty in her words, a clear sign that she is proud of whom his son has come to be. Xie Lian doesn’t believe marrying him is some sort of accomplishment for Hua Cheng, but he will not argue against her.

Hua Cheng looks pleased with her compliments. “I am aware. His Highness has endured a lot in his long life, it is my honor to be with him.”

Xie Lian rests his hands on his lap, gaze downcast and face burning still when he speaks. “San Lang has endured so much worse. The honor is mine,” he mumbles softly.

“I want to know what you have been through,” Hua Cheng’s mother tells her son. “I can see you live joyfully now, but there is a reason you died, and I need to know of it.”

Hua Cheng’s face sobers. Xie Lian knows that demeanor, closed off and distant, avoiding subjects he doesn’t want to speak about. It tends to happen between them, though not often, that Hua Cheng has particular days in which he feels lesser, undignified of being next to Xie Lian, and Xie Lian arms himself with patience to talk his beloved out of such a distressed state. Now, in front of his mother, the Ghost King seems not to find a way out. “You do not need to know, mother.”

“I do. I could not be a part of your life during most of it, let me be a part of this at least,” she demands.

Hua Cheng takes a deep breath Xie Lian knows he doesn’t need. “There was a war, back when the Kingdom of Xian Le was still on its feet. The Crown Prince had been left to his own devices when he tried to ensure the safety of his people, and there were evil forces that made it impossible for him to accomplish that. The war was inevitable, and I was loyal to my Crown Prince, so I went and gave my life for him.”

He feels his blood turn to ice and halt inside his body. The reminder of Hua Cheng, a young kid, dying in the war that led to the foreseeable fall of Xian Le still hurts, and Xie Lian knows it will never cease burning, like a scalding dagger right through his heart. Out of all the pain and torture he has gone through, living with the weight of knowing his husband is who he is now thanks to Xie Lian is agony—dormant, most of the time, yet always present. Some of his nightmares are images his brain has conjured of Hua Cheng dying in a battlefield, arrows pierced through his chest, deep crimson blood tainting his corpse, spilling from his mouth and his wounds. He never saw that. They rarely talk about those times. His imagination is enough to frighten him and make guilt drip from his every pore.

Hua Cheng’s mother stares at Xie Lian, the latter avoiding her eyes. It isn’t fear. You do not look in the eyes of the mother whose child you helped kill, one way or another, and pretend you can live with it. If there is any form of retaliation from her part, Xie Lian will accept it without a single word. “Your Highness,” she mutters.

Xie Lian interjects her. “Please, that title doesn’t suit me. Just Xie Lian, please.” His voice is wet and nearly shattered. Tears sting in his eyes, but he has no right to cry over the past, let alone in front of her.

“Xie Lian, I might not have had much time to spend with my child, but a mother always knows best,” she says, her tone serene. “The pride he shows only a fool wouldn’t see.”

Pride in dying such an unfair death? The fact that Xie Lian can see it as well makes him shiver. He forces himself to meet her gaze, braced for any resentment she might feel. “I would have never wished for him to die in that war.”

There is no resentment in her eyes. It makes Xie Lian’s stomach twist. “What you wish does not matter now,” she says.

“Mother, please do no resent him, all I have done, all that has led me here, has been purely my choice,” Hua Cheng says, determined in all his respectful stance. “I have no regrets, never have.”

“I cannot resent someone you love so dearly, son,” the woman states. “I wish you could’ve lived a longer, happier life. That you passed from old age.” She shakes her head, her lips pressed in a thin line when she turns to Xie Lian again. “I do not resent you, Xie Lian.  If you are the reason my son cannot pass on, I figure you must be worthy.”

Hua Cheng had told him he never wanted to rest in peace. Is it foolish of him to believe his words? Is it egotistical, vain, to think he’s the sole reason for Hua Cheng’s existence? “I do not know. All I can say is that I try each day to return the joy he gives me. I do not know if that will ever be enough.”

Hua Cheng opens his mouth, yet the woman speaks first. “Do you love my son, Xie Lian?”

Xie Lian takes a deep breath, gathers himself enough so his words aren’t feeble when he answers. “Deeply. Immensely.” She doesn’t move, doesn’t look away, and Xie Lian takes it as an indicator for him to carry on. He wants to make her believe there is nothing but honesty in his statements. “I have only known happiness next to him—in fact, I think I began to be truly happy once I met him.”

His fingers find the ring hanging from the chain around his neck, gently stroking its edges and the diamonds incrusted in it. He doesn’t glance at Hua Cheng, his face already too scorching for him to tolerate it. His heart, on the contrary, is now calm. “If you are here, and you are not a spirit, then it means you’re an immortal,” she comments. Xie Lian nods, not daring to add that he is a more or less newly ascended god for the third time because it wouldn’t change her point. “My son’s lives have always belonged to you, does yours belong to him?”

“He is the reason for my life. I have lived an eternity already, and the rest of it I want it to be next to him.”

She cocks an eyebrow at him. “That will be endless.”

Xie Lian nods again, well aware of the immensity of time and the slow drag it tends to move in. The years he spent by himself, lost to the world, a distant tale in the farthest corner of someone’s mind, have been terrible in comparison to the brightness his days now have. “I know, there’s nothing I would like more than eternity with him.”

The room is plunged into silence, no words spilled from any of their mouths. When he finally dares to look at his husband, he sees the Ghost King’s visible eye wide and glossy, the shine so bright it could rival the thousands of lanterns he has taken a penchant for gifting him every year. Xie Lian lives for him. He has only learned how to exist once Hua Cheng taught him through lessons in the form of love, pure and pristine, burning like a wildfire; he feels it, he knows it, he loves him just as fiercely. The smile on the woman’s face tugs up the corner of her lips slowly, endearment evident as she nods. “I believe you, Crown Prince. At last, he has found you, and I trust you to give him all he deserves. That is what I’ll take with me to finally pass on.”

Hua Cheng lets out a quiet gasp, his voice wet when he reaches out for her hand. “Mother, you don’t have to leave yet, do you?”

“When the sun comes, I believe will be time for me to leave,” she answers. She gives off a concoction of sadness and relief with her tone. Hua Cheng tightens his grip around her hand, reminding Xie Lian so strongly of the little child he once was.

“There is still time,” Xie Lian offers. “San Lang, you should tell your mother your best stories,” he tells his husband. “He has so much to share with you, believe me,” he then says to the woman.

Hua Cheng eases gently, nodding, his mother happily encouraging him to say whatever he wants. They fall easily into conversation, Hua Cheng talking about his greatest accomplishments such as building the city and the manor himself, and also about the day he married Xie Lian, earning a few lighthearted complaints of embarrassment from the latter. They share anecdotes and stories, but only the good, funny ones. There is a silent, secret agreement between Xie Lian and Hua Cheng not to speak about their tragedies. Xie Lian does explain to her, mindful of keeping the dark parts of his history out of the conversation, how he came to be an immortal and how he ascended thrice. They do not lie to her, simply keep out the darkest memories to themselves. Xie Lian thinks it is only fair—had he been in Hua Cheng’s place and happened to meet his parents’ spirits, he would also hide his miseries from them.

The Ghost King talks and talks, looking like a child eager to share every bit of his days with his mother. The child he could not be, his childhood having been robbed from him by the cruelty of his first life, excitedly telling the mother he could not enjoy all the things he has kept in his heart for countless years. Xie Lian soaks in their bliss, and he no longer feels foreign to it. When his husband smiles at his mother’s compliments Xie Lian finds himself smiling as well, his joy palpable, contagious. Whatever she asks about, be it about Hua Cheng’s eye patch or Xie Lian’s sentient silk, they answer and tell her the best version of those stories. They do not sugarcoat things because they know she doesn’t deserve it, but there is no use in weighing her soul down even further.

He doesn’t say a single word when he notices the first sunrays creeping up through the large windows of the recreation hall. If he could, he’d keep Hua Cheng’s mother here forever, but he knows that is not her wish. An entire night has passed in the blink of an eye, leaving a bittersweet flavor in Xie Lian’s mouth in its wake.

In the end, it is her who points out that the morning has found them. They wouldn’t have been able to hide from it even if they tried. Both Hua Cheng and Xie Lian watch her silently as she stares at the window and smiles. “Time is very unfair, it rushes when we beg for it to slow its pace.”

Hua Cheng is no longer smiling when Xie Lian looks at him. The woman slowly rises from her seat and they follow, and she moves to stand in front of Xie Lian, face to face. In the blink of an eye, her arms around his torso draw him closer to her body in a tight hug. Xie Lian hugs her in return, carefully wrapping his arms around her bony shoulders. He is overcome with a sudden pang of sadness, raw and unknown to him until the very moment. “I wish you could stay a little longer,” he whispers.

The woman pulls apart and looks up to meet his eyes. “If only I wasn’t so weary. Do not feel anguished, Xie Lian, for you have granted my greatest, oldest wish, which was finding my child.” Her hands, thin, the skin translucent, hold his face. “Thank you for this, and for giving my son the love he deserves. Promise this old soul you will always love him.”

Xie Lian doesn’t need to think before answering. “There is no need for gratitude. I promise you I will love him eternally, rest assured,” he utters with security.

She smiles and, despite the sadness creeping up her features, she doesn’t cry. Xie Lian does feel like crying. He has never liked departures, no matter how many goodbyes he’s had to say in his long life. She frees him slowly and then walks up to an immobile Hua Cheng, the moment her hands reach out for him the Ghost King surges forward and engulfs her in a heartbreaking embrace. He’s so much bigger than her, yet she cradles the back of his head as though he were her little baby, so much love and longing expressed in her every gesture. “All this time I spent looking for you has paid off, my sweetheart. I have always loved you, and will always do. All I wanted was to see you, and I got to find you enjoying your afterlife with someone you love. What more can I ask for?”

Hua Cheng presses his face in the crook of her neck, clinging to her robes, his words muffled. “I ask for you to stay a little longer.”

Xie Lian clutches at his own chest, equal parts wistful and fond. It’d be impossible to try and make Hua Cheng reason right now; his mother is tired, hanging on by a thinning thread about to snap, her only need having been met which was finding him. Traces of her exhaustion are evident in everything about the woman, mixed with the sequels she carries even in the afterlife from her illness. Xie Lian can only hope his husband understands the urge she has to finally rest in peace. She presses a kiss to his temple and speaks against the side of his face. “I have nothing to do here any longer, son. Your husband has promised me to love you forever, so you must promise me you will do the same. Promise me your reason for you not passing on is love, and I will leave with a tranquil heart.”

Hua Cheng obliges, voice broken when he speaks, face contorted in pain when he at last moves to face her. “Had I only found you earlier—”

The woman shushes him and lands a warm kiss to his forehead. “No use in wondering. Everything happens for a reason. Take care of yourself, of your empire, and of your Prince. You have made me immensely proud.”

Xie Lian has to willfully keep himself still when the first tears spill from his husband’s eye. “I will miss you.”

The woman kisses his eye patch with incredible tenderness, and Xie Lian catches her muttering a couple of words in a language he does not know yet has heard from his husband’s lips many times in the past in the form of a soothing lullaby. Xie Lian approaches them when he notices the woman pulling away, his hands naturally finding Hua Cheng as the latter’s hands find purchase around his waist. His silent crying still makes Hua Cheng’s body tremble, pressed against Xie Lian’s side. The woman watches them, smiling, and strokes both their faces with each hand. “I must leave now,” she announces, no trepidation in her tone.

“We will walk you wherever you want to go,” Hua Cheng states, clinging onto the last moments with his mother for dear life.

It is only to the large entrance of the manor that she allows them to accompany her. “I will go on my way from here. If I am granted another life, I hope to find you both like this.”

Her relief is soothing, as though she is eager to find her long awaited rest. Xie Lian nods, tightening his hold around Hua Cheng’s body. Neither of them move when she gives them one last smile before turning around and walking away. Her figure gets smaller in the distance until Xie Lian can no longer see her, fading away in the morning air.

They stay hugging on the same place for a long moment, Xie Lian keeping his beloved flush to him, stroking his hair, cupping his head. “She has always loved you, and that will always stay within you. Don’t be sad, my dear,” Xie Lian murmurs.

“Nothing can obscure the joy gege gives me,” Hua Cheng answers, headstrong as ever, though his voice is nasal, so humanly shattered.

Xie Lian lets out a soft laugh, kissing the side of his husband’s head. “My San Lang, let’s go home. I will carry your heavy heart for you, if you let me.”

The walk back inside the manor is short, yet they do not rush, silently making their way up to their bedroom. Hand in hand, Hua Cheng lets him take his pain and make it his as well. Pain isn’t a novelty to them, Xie Lian knows, but there are many versions of it that he won’t let his husband experience by himself. In the enormity of their lives and their unlives, Xie Lian has found out he only exists in order to share his existence with Hua Cheng, with everything it entails.

They find themselves in the large bed, stripped down to their inner robes, though their intentions are different now; Xie Lian sits on the mattress, back against the headrest, and brings Hua Cheng’s head to rest on his lap. His fingers card through the dark strands of his husband’s hair, watching the Ghost King’s expression soften as his eyes close. He is often the one being pampered, so moments like these in which he can take care of his lover are utterly precious to Xie Lian. “I have made a sentimental fool out of myself in front of gege,” Hua Cheng mumbles.

“Don’t think that way. I am glad I was able to be there,” Xie Lian says, serious and gentle. “I love this side of you, I know just how wonderful you are.”

“I would have never expected to find her,” Hua Cheng comments, sighing through his nose. “I thought I wouldn’t remember her anymore, but I did.”

“Of course you did. She is a wonderful mother, I bet she was just as wonderful when you were a child.”

Hua Cheng’s lips stretch in a bittersweet smile. “She was sick for most of my life, but she was.”

Xie Lian hooks his finger on the thread securing his eye patch and softly withdraws it from his husband’s face. Hua Cheng’s eyes do not open, but he does search for Xie Lian’s hand and locks their fingers together, both their joined hands resting on his chest. “Tell me all about her, if you wish. Memories last longer when you share them with someone else.”

So Hua Cheng does, spilling his heart’s contents with soft tones and a tranquil attitude, and Xie Lian listens, saves every detail in his mind so Hua Cheng’s mother will never be forgotten again. The Ghost King speaks of a harsh childhood and his mother’s soothing lullabies, of red and silver, of flowers and illness, of laughter and death. Xie Lian listens, for that is all he wants to do, and makes his love present and known in silence and quiet words.

Hua Cheng only sleeps when Xie Lian asks him to, though this time he falls into slumber on his own accord. Xie Lian doesn’t move and doesn’t stop stroking his husband’s hair, happy to wait all that’s needed until Hua Cheng can feel his heart isn’t on the verge of shattering again. He doesn’t know and doesn’t mind how much time passes until Hua Cheng awakes, and when he does, Xie Lian smiles at him. “This foolish ghost has passed out like a pathetic human child, I pray His Highness forgives him,” he says, voice mellow and amused.

“Careful, you’re speaking of my husband.” Hua Cheng raises his arm and cups Xie Lian’s cheek, the latter weak to his husband’s touch bending until their lips meet in a soft kiss. “How is my San Lang feeling?” he asks, face warming immediately.

“I meant it when I said that nothing can sadden me for long when I have you to fill me with joy.” Hua Cheng sits up, their face still close to one another, his hand resting on the mattress next to Xie Lian’s hip and supporting his weight.

Xie Lian smiles, padding his husband’s cheek. “Perhaps I am not enough to keep you from such things, and that would be alright, it’d be natural.”

“For someone else, it might. For me, it is inconceivable. The love I have for you outshines everything else. It keeps me full, makes me invincible.” The raw honesty in Hua Cheng’s words throbs like an open wound in Xie Lian’s chest. He shivers, breath catching. “You are all I have ever needed.”

Xie Lian knows his love for him cannot compare to the love a mother and a son share. He knows he cannot fill the void Hua Cheng has worn for an eternity, but he does not intend to. “You are aware there are roles I cannot play,” Xie Lian begins, his voice nearly a whisper. Hua Cheng understands, it seems, because he nods. “But I am here so you can make of me whatever you come up with. I live through you. Live through me.”

Hua Cheng kisses him again, slower this time, as if expecting for Xie Lian’s words to sear and mark his own mouth. Xie Lian will remind him as many times as he needs.