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“So?” He Xuan asks. “What do you think?”
Hua Cheng stares at him as if he’s taken all the exasperation people normally store in both eyes and funneled it into his single one. “You want to impersonate the Earth Master, a god you are unfamiliar with, whose dominion you have no control over. And keep up this act for centuries. All to get a reaction out of one person, or maybe two, at the risk of everything you’ve done in the last century.”
He Xuan scowls. The plan sounded better in his head. It really did.
“You could just kidnap the younger brother,” Hua Cheng says, because he’s no fun and doesn’t appreciate He Xuan’s creative genius.
“Yeah, right,” He Xuan scoffs. “That’s a stupid idea.”
***
Anyway. Four days later, He Xuan kidnaps the younger brother. Sort of. He kidnaps Shi Qingxuan, but Shi Qingxuan is-
Well. Shi Qingxuan is not a brother at the moment so much as-
“Wow!” The shockingly willing woman he’s holding captive gasps as He Xuan touches the pool on Black Water Island and enters the realm of his manor. Her nails dig into his arm. “Is this your place? It’s so beautiful!”
He Xuan personally thinks his manor is ugly as shit, but then again he thinks everything around him is ugly as shit most of the time. Shi Qingxuan, though, is vibrant and gorgeous and full of color. He Xuan wonders how long it’ll take for her to fade, just like everything else he’s touched.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he scoffs. “Obviously I couldn't settle for less.”
She only hums. “I dunno. I just thought, if you need the ransom, you probably don’t have that much money. But I thought wrong, I guess!” She laughs, a bright sound completely at odds with the dark, foreboding towers of his manor. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, my brother can pay it. Don’t worry.”
He Xuan stares at her. “You think I kidnapped you for money.”
She frowns. “Yeah. That’s what I usually get kidnapped for.”
In his bafflement, he forgets that he is supposed to hate her and instead asks, “You do this kind of thing frequently?”
“Not that much,” she says, with a wave of her perfectly manicured hand. “But I never turn down an opportunity! After all, if someone kidnaps me, they probably really need the money, right? And I don’t mind, as long as they don’t treat me too badly.” She looks up at him through her lashes. Her thick, curled lashes. “You won’t treat me too badly, right?”
He Xuan initially thought he might string her up in a torture chamber for several years and pry off each of her perfect nails one by one, but his capacity for cruelty seems to be limited by her wide eyes. “You’ll be fine,” he says, not sure if he’s lying.
Shi Qingxuan smiles. “That’s good.”
They walk through the doors, into the desolate hallways. He Xuan thinks she might be an idiot to take him at his word.
“So,” Shi Qingxuan says, stretching out the word. “If you don’t want money, what are your demands? I’m curious.”
He Xuan frowns. Her smile hasn’t faded. “I want your brother to hate me, so I’ll keep you until he does.”
She laughs. “That shouldn’t take very long.” He Xuan isn’t sure if she’s joking or not. “Well, how much is ‘hate’? How long are you going to keep me?”
“You seem very calm about this.”
Shi Qingxuan shrugs. “You don’t seem like you’d hurt me.”
If only she knew how wrong she was. He Xuan nearly barks out a laugh at the irony of it. The very person who claims his stolen godhood, saying he wouldn’t hurt them. He Xuan wants to make her scream for mercy. Wants to watch her ruin her pretty face with tears and snot and blood.
“Six months would probably do it,” she suggests.
He Xuan raises an eyebrow. “I want him furious,” he hisses. “Six months is nothing.”
“Hm. Yeah, you have a point.” Shi Qingxuan appears completely unaffected by his rage, and ponders quietly. “Okay, compromise. Six months. But then you kidnap me again every year until my brother gets mad enough.”
Compromise, He Xuan thinks, feeling lightheaded. Why the fuck would he compromise with the person he just kidnapped?
“Okay,” he says anyway, because he doesn’t have any better ideas.
***
He Xuan’s manor only has two furnished rooms: his bedroom and his dining hall. The dining hall is actually a torture chamber, but He Xuan calls it that because that’s where he eats. He eats ghosts. He kills ghosts there and then eats them. But he needs those rooms because eating and sleeping are his only hobbies, so he shoves Shi Qingxuan in a vast, unfurnished room and ignores their presence.
This method works for a stunning six days before Shi Qingxuan bothers him about it.
“Hey,” they say, this time wearing a face with too much gender for He Xuan to figure out which one they’re going for. “So, um, I have a quick question, if you don’t mind?”
He Xuan looks up from the bloody carcass in his hands. He can feel carnage dripping down his chin. No one else would dare approach him like this, but Shi Qingxuan is stupidly brave, or at least stupidly self-assured. “What.”
“I kind of want to sleep,” they say, looking a little sheepish.
He Xuan blinks. A steady drip of blood trails down his chin.
Shi Qingxuan fiddles with their already perfect hair and leans against the doorway. “I don’t know if you sleep. But I like sleeping. So I would love it if you could show me to a bedroom.”
“I thought gods didn’t sleep,” He Xuan says, like an idiot, because ghosts don’t sleep either and yet he does it every day.
“It’s called ‘beauty sleep’ for a reason. I need rest to look this gorgeous. Can’t you see how lackluster my skin is?”
He Xuan glances at their face. They look the same as when he surged up from the water and dragged them beneath the waves, blinded by the rage that’s necessary to keep him tethered to the world.
“You’re vulnerable when you sleep,” he says finally, as he wipes the blood from his mouth.
Shi Qingxuan looks at him oddly. They smile, a small affair that looks like it belongs on a thousand paintings. “But that’s okay, because you won’t hurt me, right?”
He Xuan stands there in silence and forgets how to deny them. He leads Shi Qingxuan to his bedroom and leaves them alone in his enormous bed, where they curl up in delight amidst his blankets.
Shi Qingxuan sleeps for three days and nights. He Xuan stands outside the door, his hand on the doorknob. It would be so easy to go in, slit their throat while they’re defenseless. He turns the knob a few times, but never manages to push it open.
He stands there for all seventy-two hours. It’s the longest He Xuan has ever stayed awake.
On the fourth day, Shi Qingxuan opens the door. This time, they are a woman again, their hair long and flowing and tangled beyond repair. Their eyes are heavy with sleep and He Xuan thinks he’s never seen someone more ethereal.
“I never asked,” Shi Qingxuan says, in lieu of a greeting. “What should I call you?”
He Xuan dredges up a scowl from his sleep-deprived mind. “You know who I am.”
“I know what you are,” she corrects. “But I can hardly call you Black Water Sinking Ships all the time. I wouldn’t like it if you called me Wind Master all the time.”
“Wind Master,” He Xuan says, just to be annoying.
She laughs, eyes crinkling into something beautiful, because she doesn’t seem capable of anything less. “Call me Qingxuan. Please.”
“Qingxuan?”
“Yeah. Just like that! Don’t we feel more like friends already?”
Friends. He Xuan wants to kill something.
“He Xuan,” he says, and regrets it instantly, because Qingxuan’s eyes light up like she’s never, ever going to let this go. When she beams, the heavens beam with her. He Xuan scowls. Those heavens should have been his, he reminds himself. That should have been him.
(He lets Qingxuan take his bed anytime they want for the next five months.)
***
Come November, when Qingxuan announces their return to the heavens with a great windstorm sweeping up from the south, Shi Wudu is livid. So livid, in fact, that he comes to the edge of He Xuan’s territory and bombards him with foreign waves until he finally grants him an audience.
“Black Water,” he hisses, cold fire alight in his eyes. “You cannot take my brother. No one can take my brother. If you try anything again, I’ll kill you. If he doesn’t kill you first, that is.”
“Oh, no,” He Xuan deadpans, kicking back idly on a throne of his own infamous waters. “I guess I’ll just give up on avenging the life you stole from me, huh?”
“He Xuan,” Shi Wudu says quietly. The note of fear along with his real name is gratifying. “I don’t care who you are. Do not take him again.”
He Xuan throws back his head and laughs. “You think I took them? Qingxuan came with me all on their fucking own.”
Shi Wudu pales.
“See you in May,” He Xuan says, and leaves.
***
True to his word, he picks up Qingxuan in May. Yet again, they go willingly, which is extremely odd, but he ignores it. Everything goes just fine for most of the dry, windless summer, right up until September, when He Xuan is indulging in a grand feast, sponsored by Hua Cheng. Or perhaps sponsored by He Xuan’s ever-mounting debt.
He sits in the dining room, at the head of the table, alone, stuffing his face. He likes it that way. That’s how it is and that’s how it always will be.
At least, that’s how it is until he notices someone in the doorway.
He Xuan doesn’t usually feel self-conscious about his eating habits, but with Qingxuan watching in their exquisite blue robes and perfectly lined eyes, and him gnawing on a chicken leg, he considers it.
“This is magnificent,” they gush, inviting themself to the table and taking a seat at the other head of the table like they own the place. “Did you get all this from the Ghost Realm? That’s incredible! This looks better than heavenly banquets, even! Everything smells divine! Or- well, better than divine. You know.”
“Why are you here,” He Xuan asks flatly.
Qingxuan’s eyes go wide, and they fold their hands neatly in their lap, the perfect picture of an obedient guest. “I just thought you seemed lonely.”
Lonely. He Xuan hasn’t had the luxury of not being lonely in more years than he can count.
“I won’t eat anything, if that matters to you.”
“Eat whatever you like,” He Xuan says, before he can think better of it. “I don’t care.”
He Xuan returns to his chicken leg with ferocity. To his surprise, Qingxuan rolls up their sleeves and digs in alongside him, tearing into a loaf of bread with their teeth bared. Qingxuan devours half the table, perhaps even faster than He Xuan does. He wonders if Qingxuan feels starved by divinity, like how he feels starved by the lack of it. If Qingxuan hungers for their lost fate, too.
They both eat like animals. Then they stare across the depressingly long table at each other. A god and a ghost.
“You know,” Qingxuan says suddenly. “Sleep helps with digestion.”
He Xuan does know that. Mount Tonglu taught him well. He took twelve years to escape; he was only awake for two. Ten years spent digesting ghosts. Ten years spent unconscious.
“So we should sleep.” Qingxuan stands from the table. “Both of us.”
They must have noticed by now that there are no furnishings in the vast majority of his manor. Why would they ask that, when they know there’s no way for both of them to sleep at the same time? He Xuan always waits for them to wake up before he-
“I’m saying we should both sleep in your bed,” Qingxuan clarifies hurriedly. Their face is a little pink. He Xuan, horrifyingly, doesn’t mind.
“I could kill you in your sleep. Strangle you with your sleeves. Suffocate you in the blankets.”
Qingxuan only smiles serenely. “But you wouldn’t, right?”
Thus, He Xuan discovers that Qingxuan is a blanket stealer. They also shed their long hair all over the pillows and end up with their legs thrown across the whole bed. They sometimes grab He Xuan’s arm in their sleep, or bury their face in his hair. Qingxuan is, all in all, an absolutely terrible person to sleep next to.
It is, by some miracle, the best sleep He Xuan has ever had.
***
The third year, Qingxuan looks almost delighted to see him. With a last gust of spring breeze swept into existence by his fan, he floats down and lands neatly in a curtsy in front of He Xuan.
“Hi,” he says, eyes bright. He tucks the fan away into his robes, which He Xuan notices are extremely fine, embroidered with gorgeous blue swirls that could be wind or could be waves. He’s never seen Qingxuan in a male form before, but he’s unmistakeable. “I’m ready to go!”
He holds out his arm like he would to a dance partner. He might, He Xuan thinks, have lost his mind.
He Xuan grabs his elbow unceremoniously and tugs him into the teleportation array. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Nothing! Is it so hard to believe that I’m just happy to see you?”
“Yes.”
They land on Black Water Island in a flurry of color. The color is mostly black, because He Xuan doesn’t have much imagination for design. He stalks toward the mirror pool, like always, but Qingxuan drags his feet.
“You don’t mind, right?” he asks, voice faint.
“Don’t mind what?”
“That I like to, um. Not be a man. Sometimes.”
He Xuan stares at him. He minds Qingxuan for so many reasons. He minds that Qingxuan steals his blankets. He minds that Qingxuan likes to eat his exquisite feasts with him rather than letting him finish them alone. He minds that Qingxuan smiles so often. He minds that Qingxuan doesn’t mind him.
“Of course I don’t,” He Xuan scoffs. “I’m not an asshole.”
Qingxuan’s smile is watery but genuine. His face melts into a familiar, more androgynous counterpart, one with a higher brow and fuller cheeks and a happier expression. “Thank you, He-xiong.”
He-xiong. What the fuck. He pretends not to care about that.
Qingxuan skips alongside him. “You know…”
He Xuan is starting to think those words are a warning sign. “What?”
“Women have stronger yin energy.”
“I’m dead. I’m already as yin as it gets.”
“Well,” says Qingxuan slowly, trailing their fingers along his arm. “You never know until you try, right? Maybe more yin energy would be good for you! Help your power reserves or something! There’s really only one way to find out.”
He Xuan looks at them. Their eyes are wide. Pleading.
“He-xiong…”
He makes the fatal mistake of hesitating. Qingxuan breaks into a smile, and his fate is sealed.
Two hours later He Xuan finds himself in front of his mirror. Qingxuan’s hands linger without touching him, trying to guide his transformation process.
“It’s not that complicated,” they’re saying, though He Xuan can’t see their expression in the mirror. “Just tell your body you want it to become a woman’s. Rounder shoulders, wider hips, higher brow. And some tits. But only if you want them.”
“I don’t want to do any of this,” He Xuan grumbles, but closes his eyes and tells his body to give itself tits anyway. Qingxuan narrates the changes to him quietly. He Xuan doesn’t open his eyes for fear that he’ll have done something wrong, made himself into a horrible creature. Or worse, made himself beautiful.
“A little more… sharper chin… there! Just like that!”
He Xuan feels Qingxuan’s hand land on his waist, and his eyes fly open in pure shock. He stares into the mirror and sees…
…Oh.
“Well?” Qingxuan sounds a little shy as they step out beside him. Or her , He Xuan supposes now. “How do you feel?”
He Xuan stares at herself in the mirror for a while. She’d expected to hate her new appearance with a vengeance. She’d expected to say, it’s horrible, and transform herself back to a man again instantly. But really, she doesn’t look too different. Doesn’t feel too different, either. She feels alright, actually.
She runs a hand along her hipbone, which juts out now. “I don’t hate it.”
Qingxuan’s laugh is like rising flames, spinning around and around in the air and lighting up the night sky. “Try it for a few days. Then tell me what you think.”
He Xuan doesn’t think staying in this form is a good idea, because she might want to stay in it more, and then she might realize she likes it, and then Hua Cheng might laugh at her for not thinking to try this on her own. She opens her mouth to protest, when-
“I’m tired.” Qingxuan flops backwards onto He Xuan’s bed, sighing as their head hits the pillow. “You must be tired too, right? Transforming takes it out of you.”
“I’m fine,” He Xuan snaps, even though the weariness of her new body is catching up to her.
Qingxuan only grins and throws back the covers. “Come on, He-jie. I’ll get cold.”
And He Xuan is an idiot who will never learn her damn lesson, so she says, “Fine,” and then sleeps for sixteen hours, and ends up with Qingxuan’s arms wrapped snugly around her waist and their breath ruffling her hair every time they exhale. She ought to feel annoyed, really, but Qingxuan’s presence is comforting. She tries her best to muster up annoyance, and yet nothing surfaces.
Wait. Nothing surfaces?
She tries again. No annoyance. She tries to muster hatred, or loathing, or distrust, or a desire for vengeance. Anything. But none of it comes through. For Qingxuan, she only feels a gentle sort of warmth.
Well, He Xuan thinks, staring at the wall. That might be a problem.
Qingxuan slumbers on, undisturbed. Their nose brushes against her neck as they adjust. He Xuan lays there, paralyzed, and breathes for the first time in years. It does not help her calm down. Not even a little.
***
There are healthy coping mechanisms. There are unhealthy coping mechanisms. Then there is whatever the fuck He Xuan does.
“Help me.”
From behind the curtain, Hua Cheng only hums. “Nice tits.”
He Xuan glares at the red fabric. “Never mind. Don’t help me. Fucking murder me for all I care.”
“I can’t murder you. You’re already dead.” Hua Cheng pushes aside the curtain just a sliver. He’s young today, a teenager with skinny hips and twig arms, which He Xuan finds incredibly amusing until she remembers that her usual form is also a teenager with skinny hips and twig arms. She scowls as she steps through.
“So?” Hua Cheng scoots over on his divan and pats the cushion like a particularly gossip-hungry auntie might to a heartbroken youth. “What’s the matter?”
He Xuan sits down heavily. Then she launches into quite possibly the longest rant of her existence. She tells Hua Cheng everything about Qingxuan, from the stolen godhood to the stolen bed to the-
“Stolen heart,” Hua Cheng says knowingly. He Xuan punches his arm forcefully. He just laughs.
“But seriously,” He Xuan says. “I can’t feel any resentment towards them. So how… how am I still here?”
Hua Cheng looks at her strangely. “Resentment isn’t the only emotion strong enough to tether a soul to this world,” he says quietly.
He Xuan doesn’t look at him, for fear she might see her own expression reflected in his face. She stares at the ceiling instead. “You’re a fucking loser, Hua Cheng. Sticking around for a god.”
“You stick around for a god too,” Hua Cheng points out. “You might break their statues and curse their name, but you still showed up at their altar.”
He Xuan supposes, with a sinking feeling, that he’s right.
“You know, I was a god once,” Hua Cheng says conversationally.
He Xuan’s eyes boggle as she stares at him. “What the fuck?”
“I told them all to fuck right off, ‘cause they couldn't tell me where His Highness was. They seemed really pissed that a dead guy could-”
Hua Cheng is interrupted by the sound of crashing. Then more crashing. Then, for good measure, another few crashes, followed by a too-familiar shout.
“Crimson Rain Sought Flower!”
If He Xuan had a heart, it would have stopped.
Hua Cheng kicks back on the divan with a shit-eating grin. “Oh?” he calls through the curtain. “And who demands an audience with me?”
The person causing all the crashing climbs onto the dice table and walks across it like it’s a runway. “I, Wind Master Shi Qingxuan,” they announce, flicking their hair dramatically, “demand that you surrender Black Water Sinking Ships and return them to me safe and sound.”
What.
Hua Cheng glances at her in surprise. His grin widens.
“Not a fucking word,” He Xuan mutters.
But Hua Cheng doesn’t listen to her because Hua Cheng doesn’t listen to anyone, and he says through the curtain, “What will you give me if you lose?”
“Lose?” Qingxuan says, sounding bewildered. “I mean, I thought I’d just die if I lost? Like, we could just fight? I’m the Wind Master, in case you missed that part.”
“This is a gambling hall. Violence is banned,” Hua Cheng says. “So we shall play dice for your precious Black Water.”
“Precious?” He Xuan hisses.
Hua Cheng just pats her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on them.”
Fuck. She forgot about the gambling part.
“Don’t do it!” He Xuan yells, against her better judgment. She flings open the curtain, staring down at Qingxuan. “Don’t gamble against him! He always wins!”
Qingxuan looks up at her. “Hi,” they say, with a giant, stupid-looking smile. Their head tilts to one side and He Xuan wonders how the fuck they survived Ghost City looking so adorable, so gullible. “I missed you! Come back!”
“What?”
“I missed you,” Qingxuan repeats. The entire gambling hall has gone silent. Their words echo throughout the room like a mantra. He Xuan is certain that every ghost in the city will have heard about this whole affair by tomorrow noon.
“I’ll come back, then,” He Xuan says unthinkingly, stepping onto the long dice table with-
“Nice try,” Hua Cheng sings. “But your Wind Master agreed to play against me. Highest wins.”
He Xuan whirls around with her teeth bared, but is stopped by Qingxuan’s hand resting on her shoulder. “I’ll do it,” they say, squaring their shoulders.
Hua Cheng smiles and retrieves his dice. He Xuan feels like she might be sick as she watches him roll. A six and a five.
Qingxuan winks. The dice spin out of their cup and soar through the air with a flourish.
Two sixes.
Hua Cheng doesn’t even finish saying, “Well played,” before Qingxuan is squealing and sweeping He Xuan into their arms. He Xuan stands there stiffly, arms locked at her side, but Qingxuan seems unbothered. They sweep her up, hands at her waist, and lift her, twirling her through the air like dice from their cup. He Xuan grips onto their shoulders for stability. She’s taller than Qingxuan on the ground, but she forgets, from time to time, that Qingxuan can fly.
Qingxuan is breathless as they finally come to a stop. He Xuan should probably move her hands, but she doesn’t. Qingxuan doesn’t pull away, either. In fact, they lean in closer, so He Xuan feels their breath stir against her mouth. If she had a heart, it’d be pounding.
As Qingxuan draws even closer, He Xuan’s world comes to a standstill. Qingxuan is barely a centimeter away from her when her eyes slip shut.
“Oh,” Qingxuan says suddenly. They clear their throat and drop He Xuan’s waist. “Sorry. I’m just. Really glad I won. Hahaha. My bad.”
Hua Cheng snorts; He Xuan is sure it's entirely at her expense. “Told you I’d go easy.” He inclines his head to Qingxuan, the closest thing to respect he’s ever shown any current god, and smiles. “Until we meet again.”
He Xuan scowls and practically runs out of the gambling hall. She’s never coming back, she tells herself firmly. This time she’s really going to leave Hua Cheng behind. This time she’s really going to sever their- well, friendship is a strong word, but if she’s severing it, what does it matter?
“Thank goodness,” Qingxuan breathes. “I thought maybe he’d hurt you.”
“I chose to see him. I’m fine,” He Xuan says as she draws the array to return to Black Water Island. Why do you care, she doesn’t say. “You’re a good gambler.”
Qingxuan beams shamelessly. “I cheated.”
“How?”
In response, Qingxuan waves a hand. A gentle breeze ruffles He Xuan’s hair, tousling her braid. Ah. Right. Wind Master, He Xuan reminds herself as she drags them into the array. She doesn’t know how she forgot.
They spin into Black Water Island near instantly. The desolate, dark island is a very abrupt change of pace from the bustling streets of Ghost City.
“You know,” Qingxuan says slowly as they reach the mirror lake. “I’ve been thinking. Why don’t you have a city? Or a court?”
He Xuan frowns. “I don’t need a court.”
“But you have subjects. I’ve seen them. All the sunken sailors, the capsized fishermen, the drowned alcoholics. Wouldn’t they like a city, too? Wouldn’t you like one?”
“I don’t want a court,” He Xuan says, trying her best to sound firm.
“But I want one,” Qingxuan says softly.
He Xuan doesn’t look at them. If she did, she might forget how to deny them again. She doesn’t know if she’s ever remembered.
“Your manor is so empty. The grounds are empty, too. We could throw festivals there. We could put up lights and booths and build beautiful things. All the sea ghosts would come live there. And we could call it ‘Black Water Court’ or something, because it’s your city!”
He Xuan stays silent.
Qingxuan looks at her with wide eyes. “Please?”
“I hate that name,” He Xuan snaps. “Come up with a better one. Then we can talk.”
She may as well have told Qingxuan they could have the three worlds and all the stars in the sky to boot. Qingxuan lights up and dances around her in a little circle, takes her arm and twirls her around, and though He Xuan scowls, she can’t find it within herself to pull away. For just a moment, she swears the gloomy fog of Black Water Island glows golden.
***
“Glittering Pearl Court?”
“No.”
“Raging Waves Court?”
“No.”
“Nether Water Court?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Mirror Court?”
“…”
***
In the fourth year, Qingxuan begins the project of building Mirror Court. She is remarkably serious about it. He Xuan expected that she’d grow tired of it quickly, move on to another flighty interest like her Wind Master title suggests, but she seems determined to build He Xuan’s court. So determined, in fact, that she’s gone most of the day. Qingxuan is only consistently present at nighttime, when she flops into He Xuan’s bed and falls asleep with their limbs intertwined.
He Xuan… doesn’t mind. After all, less interaction with Qingxuan should be better. Stolen godhood, and all that. Resentment that He Xuan… definitely feels.
With Qingxuan gone so frequently, there’s no reason for He Xuan to keep using a feminine form all the time. But it’s comfortable, and she doesn’t hate it any more than she hates her other body, so He Xuan keeps it.
The fourth summer and fall pass too quickly. Qingxuan assembles every ghost on the seafloor and gathers them in the mirror lake, allocates resources to build houses and storefronts and grand streets, with the manor at the center. He Xuan makes public appearances at Qingxuan’s insistence, and receives a surprisingly warm welcome by her subjects. She didn’t even consider them subjects until Qingxuan showed him how much they all respect her.
Before she knows it, it’s November again, and Qingxuan is departing. Departing to the heavens, He Xuan reminds herself. Where one of them belongs, and the other doesn’t. Funny how these things work.
(He Xuan wonders if she would have ever felt at peace in heaven, had she made it there.)
***
Progress on Mirror Court is essentially nonexistent once Qingxuan leaves, mainly because He Xuan decides to take a six-month depression nap until they return and refuses to wake up. He returns to male form and tries to revel in the glory of an undisturbed sleep. His bed feels too large. He misses having to fight for his blankets.
Which is why he’s so irritable when someone intrudes into his manor two months before Qingxuan is supposed to arrive.
“What the fuck do you want,” he says, voice echoing throughout the entire manor with spiritual power.
“…I’m sorry, He-xiong.”
He Xuan is suddenly wide awake. He throws open his bedroom door. Qingxuan stands there in male form, looking absolutely distraught. There are tear tracks down his cheeks and a rough tinge to his eyes. He Xuan thinks he might be the most ethereal creature he’s ever seen.
“You know it’s only March, right?”
“I’m sorry,” Qingxuan repeats, sounding utterly defeated. “I didn’t know where else to go. My brother, he… he found me in my female form, and he wasn’t happy. He forced me to revert to this one. Put a lock on my transformation powers, just to remind me that I’m weaker than him, that he’s the one who cultivated for so many years and I’m just a pathetic little sibling who didn’t know when to-”
“Stop,” He Xuan commands.
Qingxuan’s face wilts.
“Don’t ever tell me you’re pathetic again.”
Suddenly Qingxuan blinks. “Oh,” he breathes. Through the haze of tears, his smile is wide. “He-xiong, I… You really do like m-”
“Whatever,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes for good measure. “Transformation isn’t the only way to change your appearance. If you don’t like this face, I’ll do your makeup.”
“I don’t,” Qingxuan blurts, heaving another sob into his hands. “I don’t like it right now, I can’t-”
“Shut up,” says He Xuan without much bite, and Qingxuan obliges. He summons a towel and dries off Qingxuan’s face, swiping the unshed tears from their eyes. Even with their eyes closed, they smile slightly.
He Xuan doesn’t own any makeup. Why would he, when he can change his appearance at will? But he can recall the process, the feeling of each product, so he creates foundation and bronzer and concealer and eyeshadow and from his memory, hoping they’ll still work as intended, and begins the arduous process of changing someone’s face by hand.
“You’re good at this,” Qingxuan murmurs, as He Xuan’s hands trace the curve of their cheekbones.
“Don’t say that until you see yourself,” He Xuan mutters, and feels oddly satisfied when Qingxuan laughs. “My fiancée taught me. She used to make me do her eyeliner. She had bad anxiety and her hands shook.”
The corner of Qingxuan’s mouth twitches almost imperceptibly. “You were married?”
“I was engaged,” He Xuan corrects as he blends out the bronzer.
“Did you…” Qingxuan hesitates. “Did you love her?”
“She was my childhood friend. We got engaged by default.” He Xuan suddenly doesn’t remember what comes next. Highlighter? Concealer? Setting powder? “I guess I never figured out if I loved her. She died when I was twenty. My sister did too. And then so did I.”
“I’m so sorry,” Qingxuan says gently. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”
He Xuan’s been waiting to hear those words for a hundred years, and yet when he hears them, his only thought is that Qingxuan doesn’t need to apologize at all.
“Have you ever been in love?” Qingxuan asks suddenly.
He Xuan’s hand falters. He drags the contour pencil across Qingxuan’s entire nose.
“Sorry,” they say quickly. “I just thought, you know, ghosts have to have strong emotion to stick around, and love is probably the strongest emotion, and, you know, it seems like something I might want to know about since I’m, well, hahaha, since I’m in l-”
“I haven’t,” He Xuan blurts, before they can say any more.
“Oh.” Qingxuan opens one eye, then closes it quickly. “Sorry. I don’t know what I expected.”
“Not yet,” He Xuan rephrases. “I’m not in love yet. I’m still considering it.”
Qingxuan whips around to look at him so fast that their hair whacks him in the face. “You’re serious?” they ask, sounding bewildered and overjoyed all at once. “You’re considering it? You mean I have a chance?”
“Don’t move,” says He Xuan. If he were alive, he’s sure his face would be flaming. “I’m not done.”
It’s the closest thing to a yes that He Xuan will give. It’s not much, but Qingxuan smiles like it’s enough.
***
Even though it’s still spring, when the windstorms are supposed to rage in the mortal realm, Qingxuan stays with him for the extra two months. They don’t ask to leave, so He Xuan doesn’t mention it. Instead, they check on Mirror Court together. The sparkle returns to Qingxuan’s eyes quickly. He Xuan keeps doing their makeup every day to the best of his ability.
“You know,” Qingxuan says one morning, as He Xuan traces their eyeliner.
He Xuan is already apprehensive from those two words. “What?”
“There’s a shop in Mirror Court that’s planning to sell makeup. And a tailor specializing in feminine clothing.”
He Xuan didn’t know that. He knows next to nothing about Mirror Court, because Qingxuan is the one leading the project. “Okay,” he says, because how else is he supposed to react?
Qingxuan sighs, shaking their head. “He-xiong, I’m telling you to take me there.”
“Oh,” He Xuan says, like an idiot. Then, “I’m free today.”
“I know.” Qingxuan grins, taking his arm. “Come on, let’s go!”
It’s pathetic, He Xuan thinks, how easily he gives in to their smile. But Qingxuan hasn’t been this radiant since they showed up crying over their brother, and He Xuan is damned if he won’t do his best to keep it that way. Well. He’s damned either way, really, but whatever. Semantics.
He Xuan hasn’t been to his own court since Qingxuan left, what with his four-month depression nap, but it’s clear that his people haven’t been sitting back idly. There are streets now, beautiful roads lined with polished seaglass and smooth stones, and buildings made of driftwood and shipwrecks. It’s gloomy, ghostly, and glittering all at once. It’s-
“It’s perfect,” Qingxuan breathes. They tug He Xuan forward in delight, flitting between storefronts and greeting every ghost with a grin. They all look delighted to see Qingxuan, and by extension, delighted to see He Xuan, too. They nod to He Xuan as he walks by, whispering things about Black Water and his Lady coming to visit.
It strikes He Xuan suddenly that these ghosts all respect him. Not the terrified respect of the town he slaughtered, but the genuine respect of a leader’s faithful subjects. It’s daunting.
He ignores it, until a passing fisherman sinks into a bow and says, “My Lord,” like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Why?” He Xuan asks, sounding a little desperate. He’s losing track of Qingxuan, but he doesn’t care. “Why do you all respect me? I’m not a leader. I’m not your lord. All I do is sink ships.”
“Sailors live in awe of the sea, My Lord. And we bow to the one who can control it.”
He Xuan stares at the ground for a long moment. He… has a point.
From up ahead, a yell breaks him out of his reverie. “Come on, He-xiong!”
He Xuan snaps out of it. The fisherman is gone already.
All that remains before him is Qingxuan waving him over to a store boasting dozens of fabric patterns. This must be the clothing store they were talking about. Sure enough, he notices an impressive array of feminine clothing. Beyond ordinary robes, they also boast cheongsams, evening gowns, silk headscarves…
“He-xiong! What do you think?”
And lingerie, apparently, because Qingxuan is holding up a sheer lace robe with beautiful wave decals across the sleeves and across the lower hem, a hem short enough it’d sit right on Qingxuan’s thighs, and slide up further if they-
He Xuan tears his eyes away from it and tries to breathe normally, forgetting that normally he doesn’t breathe at all. “Why the fuck would you ask me.”
“I want to know if you like it, silly,” Qingxuan says, beaming. “I thought it was pretty.”
“Gorgeous,” He Xuan agrees, not looking at the robe at all.
Qingxuan’s eyes light up. “Oh, right!” They pull another hanger from the rack. “I thought you might like this one, too.”
It’s a black silk slip dress. It looks normal from the front, but then Qingxuan turns it around and reveals an impractical number of ribbons, meant to sit across someone’s lower back tied in bows. What the fuck? Who would buy that?
“It’s not really my speed,” Qingxuan admits, looking a little sheepish. “But I thought you’d look nice in it.”
He Xuan stares at them, eyes wide. “You pictured me in this?”
Their face flushes. “It just reminds me of you! And I thought maybe I’d like to see you wearing it! Hahahaha. You know?”
He Xuan snatches the lace robe and the silk slip from them, slams them down in front of the shopkeeper, and buys them both without a second thought.
***
In the sixth year, Mirror Court holds its grand opening. The city is built along the shore of the mirror lake, so they hold the opening during Duanwu Festival. He Xuan’s great bone dragons transform themselves into dragon boats, and the best sailor ghosts of the realm compete in a fierce race for the city’s entertainment. He Xuan wears new clothes for the first time in a century, a navy blue dress tailored to complement Qingxuan’s turquoise one. They’re both in female forms for the festival, exquisite gowns and updone hair matching each other.
“Isn’t it odd?” Qingxuan asks as they sit on the shore, watching the dragon boat race. “This festival is supposed to ward off evil spirits, and a city of ghosts is celebrating it.”
“Not really.” He Xuan devours another zongzi dumpling at breakneck speed; Qingxuan unwraps another one for her out of habit. “They celebrated it while they were alive, didn’t they? Besides, none of them are evil. I’m the only evil one, really.”
Qingxuan laughs and leans her head against He Xuan’s shoulder. “You’re not evil,” she says, like it’s ridiculous. “You’re the kindest person I know.”
“I’m a Ghost King,” says He Xuan flatly. “Of course I’m evil.”
A grin spreads across Qingxuan’s face. “If you’re evil, I’d hate to know what that would make me.”
Divine, He Xuan thinks instantly, with reverence, not bitterness. Qingxuan is divine, and He Xuan is evil. Qingxuan is divine, and He Xuan stole her from the heavens. Qingxuan is divine, and He Xuan might have given her own divinity to Qingxuan willingly, if only she’d known how beautiful divinity looked on her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Qingxuan asks, voice a little shaky. She laughs, the same nervous laugh as always.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m the next zongzi in your pile,” she says, voice colored by embarrassment. “Like you want to swallow me whole.”
“I chew them,” He Xuan says, indignant.
Qingxuan giggles. “You must chew even faster than gods! I’ve never seen someone eat a zongzi so fast. Not even Quan Yizhen, and he eats faster than he swings his sword.”
He Xuan scoffs. “Don’t compare me to that riffraff in heaven. I’m way better.”
She expects Qingxuan to laugh, shrug it off as arrogance, but instead she just hums. “Yeah.” She turns her head to look up at He Xuan. “You are.”
He Xuan swallows. The glutinous rice suddenly feels thicker in her throat.
“He-jie,” murmurs Qingxuan. She places a hand on He Xuan’s thigh, slides closer so that they’re nearly pressed side-to-side. “He-jie, I… well, you see, I, um-”
All of a sudden, the water beneath the dragon boat race erupts. Someone is intruding on her territory, emerging from the waves.
He Xuan leaps to her feet, sprinting out across the water with light footsteps and guiding all the racers back to the shore. “Get away,” she shouts, motioning her bone dragons to revert to their more intimidating forms. They line up behind her, ready to offer their guest a proper Black Water welcome.
“Who dares disturb my court’s festival,” she sneers, voice booming across the shore.
But her blood runs cold when she realizes who it is.
“Black Water,” Shi Wudu roars. He tosses some waves her way. Child’s play, really, to avoid them, but it makes a statement to challenge He Xuan with her own waves. “This is the last straw.”
He Xuan raises an eyebrow, bewildered. “The festival?” she asks. “We aren’t bothering anyone.”
“No!” Shi Wudu clenches his fists tighter. “What is this I hear about Black Water and her Lady?”
“My… Lady?” He Xuan repeats slowly.
“I was fine with allowing my brother to go off with you, but this? Having him outnumbered? Is your Lady keeping him in a torture chamber while you enjoy your beautiful little festival? Is this city project meant to distract the heavens from the routine kidnapping of my beloved brother?
Oh, she thinks. Her Lady. The Lady of Mirror Court. They must mean Qingxuan herself.
“I bet your Lady is just as evil as you, Black Water.”
“There’s been a misunderstanding,” He Xuan says, consciously keeping her tone reasonable. “My Lady isn’t evil at all. She has been celebrating this festival with me, in fact.”
This is clearly the wrong thing to say, because Shi Wudu’s eyes narrow. “Celebrating,” he spits. “While my brother does what, exactly? Rots away in a cage somewhere?”
“Qingxuan is-”
“You’re all despicable,” Shi Wudu snarls, already summoning his blade. He Xuan’s eyes widen as she watches him manifest a dagger, beautiful and deadly. “I wish I’d had the honor of killing you, but destroying your corporeal form as many times as possible isn’t bad compensation.”
He draws closer. He Xuan braces herself to take the impact, gritting her teeth. It’s fine, she tells herself. It’s only metal. She’s taken worse. She can-
“No!”
He Xuan blinks. Shi Wudu has been swept away by… a whirlwind?
Above her, Qingxuan floats, dress billowing grandly in the wind. She’s a vision in her turquoise dress, with her Wind Master fan stirring up the black water beneath her. Her hands shake as she forces the wave to crash.
He Xuan watches in absolute awe as Qingxuan sweeps her fan and gathers an enormous wave with her wind. Her face is dead-set with fury as she commands the waters of He Xuan’s domain as easily as if they were her own, and sends them crashing into her brother repeatedly, knocking him down with his own element.
“Do not,” Qingxuan demands, “ever call my beloved ‘evil’ again.”
Silence sweeps across the water in her wake.
“You can’t be my brother,” Shi Wudu says shakily, staring at Qingxuan, as he slowly regains his footing. “My brother would never raise his own fan against me. How…”
“You’re right,” says Qingxuan quietly. “I’m not your brother. I’m your sister, dipshit.”
And a typhoon roars up in front of her, sweeping the Water Master away with the tropical storm like she directs the waters themselves.
“Don’t come back,” she yells at the top of her lungs, eyes screwed shut. The swirling mass of wind and water sparkles in the sunlight. He Xuan looks at her own water, the black water she was named for, and for the first time, finds it beautiful.
And He Xuan realizes that Qingxuan hasn’t dulled at all; rather, Qingxuan has brought her vibrancy into He Xuan’s world and brightened it instead.
Qingxuan is breathing hard as she floats down again. She has eyes for no one but He Xuan. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” He Xuan whispers. She stares at their linked hands, for fear that Qingxuan will notice the obvious emotion in her eyes.
“Hey.” Qingxuan tilts He Xuan’s chin up with one hand. “Look at me, please.”
He Xuan looks at her and doesn’t think she’ll ever want to look away.
“I’ve been trying to tell you for a while now, but I always get interrupted,” Qingxuan says softly. “So I have to take this chance.” She inhales deeply. “He-jie. He Xuan. I, um. Over the last few years, I’ve gotten to know you, and, I, um. Hahaha. I kinda sorta think I might be in lo-”
“I know,” He Xuan says, and kisses her.
It’s not a long kiss. It’s not anything particularly special, either. But Qingxuan stares at her with eyes blown wide, and laughs so brightly that He Xuan would be powerless to refuse her anything. So when Qingxuan kisses her again, more insistent this time, He Xuan lets her, and maybe even enjoys it a little. Okay, a lot. Okay, fine, she would willingly drown in Qingxuan’s arms or something. Whatever. Same difference.
Eventually they return to shore, hand in hand, to raucous cheers. The dragon boat race resumes, the vendors all run out of zongzi, and the newly-built Mirror Court celebrates well into the night. And Qingxuan kisses her ten thousand more times, and it’s still not enough.
***
The festival goes down in ghostly history. Not for the opening of a city, not for the first-ever dragon boat race held on actual dragons, not for the surely record-breaking amount of zongzi consumed by one individual (He Xuan), but for the emergence of a new name among their ranks.
Blue Typhoon Guiding Tides is a bit of a mystery. They’re generous; they smile frequently; they change their form at will; they command the wind with the grace of an acrobat. Any facts beyond that are disputed. The one thing people can agree on is that they are in love with Black Water Sinking Ships, and that Black Water Sinking Ships is in love with them too.
***
“So we’re having the wedding on our birthday,” says He Xuan.
Hua Cheng raises an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me, perchance?”
“Why the fuck else would I come here?”
“Maybe because you adore my company and you need me to stave off the desperate loneliness of your emo manor on your emo island in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.”
“I have Qingxuan for that.”
“Hmm,” says Hua Cheng, which is probably the closest thing to an RSVP that He Xuan will get.
“I’ll search extra hard for your Dianxia if you go,” He Xuan offers. “And you can talk as much shit as you want about the gods. To their faces. I think even Jun Wu might be there.”
“…You know I’ll still add the wedding feast to your debt, right?”
“Fuck.”