Chapter Text
Hua Cheng sighs, swirling the dregs of the clear grain alcohol in his cup. He had needed a moment to himself with a stiff drink before he set about visiting the, ahem, guest in one of the spare wings of his manor.
Internally, he corrects himself. He is not a guest, per se, though he chooses to regard him as such.
Deciding he had dithered long enough, he tosses the cup aside and makes his way down the many corridors of Paradise Manor, his heavy jewelry jingling and his many layers of red robes swishing as he goes.
The sovereign of the earthly Kingdom of Xianle had, for reasons unknown to even the Xianle nobles, disposed of his only son, the prince, in a deeply cruel fashion. He had packed up all of his personal belongings and sent him off to become someone’s concubine. The beloved and beautiful kunze prince, a concubine! Hua Cheng shook his head despite himself. What could the golden prince have possibly done to invoke such ire in his father? Or, was the King of Xianle just that ruthless?
Hua Cheng is notorious for…disappearing any and all offered concubines that are foisted upon him. To think that the King of Xianle is willing to put his precious son through such a thing…
Hua Cheng stops in front of a door, ornately decorated just like all of the doors in his palace. He sighs once more, shaking out his sleeves and steeling his face into something firm, yet not unkind. He knocks thrice on the door’s lacquered surface.
“May I enter?” he asks the resident therein.
A soft, “You may enter,” calls from within the room. Hua Cheng rolls the door aside and witnesses the form of his “guest.” What he sees surprises him.
There, within the guest chamber, seated on the bed, is perhaps the most gorgeous being Hua Cheng has ever encountered. His hair is shockingly light-colored, a rarity, and unlike most kunze who prefer to stay as pale as possible, his skin is undoubtedly touched by the sun. Against his shining robes in snowy white, it is striking. His eyes are rimmed with gold and his lips painted a lush red. A vermillion, shimmering huadian adorns the space between his delicately-formed eyebrows. His face is like that of a doll, despite the worry in his expression. His scent, likely boosted by a charm or two, (to make him more appealing to me, he shudders to think,) is neither overbearing or too faint. It reminds him, strangely, of having pastries and wine in a grove of flowering trees.
His reputation precedes him. He is a great beauty, indeed.
Before Hua Cheng can say a word, his guest stands from the bed and salutes.
“Greetings, Lord Husband.”
Cringing internally, Hua Cheng regards him.
“That isn’t necessary, Your Highness the Prince of Xianle.”
The prince can only offer a small, wan smile in response.
Hua Cheng sighs despite himself. Who gifts a prince to a ghost king?