Work Text:
"Where is he?"
Hua Cheng's demand sliced through the awkward silence, bearing all the warmth of a winter's frost. His stare bore accusingly into the two martial gods who had come to meet him in the main hall of Paradise Manor, thinly veiled anger radiating from the Hua Cheng in waves. Their eyes seemed to fall just shy of meeting his, even though they were the ones who urged him to return home immediately.
Instead of answering, Mu Qing glared at Feng Xin. "I told you he'd be like this."
Feng Xin's ever-stern expression deepened into a scowl. "We had to call him, it involves His Highness!"
The muscles in Hua Cheng's jaw tightened at the mention of his husband.
"Where. Is. He?" Every enunciated syllable threatened violence if the two generals failed to answer again.
Mu Qing pinched the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. "Before we get to that, there's something you need to know."
❀ ❀ ❀
The heavenly idiots were allowed to leave with their sorry hides intact, but only after a lot of explaining and thoroughly assuring Hua Cheng that Xie Lian was not in any danger. Naturally, that did not mean they were safe from potential maiming and dismemberment at Hua Cheng's hands later, depending on how things went for Xie Lian from there. Eming's menacing gleam bade them farewell on their way out as Hua Cheng turned all thoughts to Xie Lian.
When Xie Lian had gone to assist his friends on a three-week mission to purge the nests of some particularly nasty creatures plaguing the southern region, Hua Cheng had locked away his displeasure about being left behind by throwing himself into his own responsibilities. Hua Cheng would never dream of denying him, anyway; Xie Lian was always free to do as he wished.
Hua Cheng had no reason to doubt his god's abilities, either. Xie Lian was strong—stronger than his two foolish friends, stronger than Hua Cheng himself. He was clever, he was capable. Such brainless beasts, whose only instincts were to hunt mortals and increase their numbers, should not have posed a challenge for him.
Xie Lian's sense of duty, however, sometimes had a worrisome tendency to disregard his own well-being. Hua Cheng was keenly attuned to his husband's subtle signs of overexertion, and he would intervene if Xie Lian began to push himself too hard.
But Hua Cheng had not been there this time to notice them, and his two idiot friends were appallingly unobservant by comparison.
If Hua Cheng was honest with himself—but not them, never them—the blame did not solely lie with the two generals. Even before Xie Lian had gone, Hua Cheng should have considered that it had been a while since he properly shared spiritual power with him. A mass influx of new ghosts in the city demanded time and attention that Hua Cheng would have rather spent worshiping Xie Lian from head to toe, until every exquisite part of his divine body was brimming with his energy and love.
Xie Lian, too, had also been kept busy with various menial tasks for the Heavenly Realm, much to Hua Cheng's dismay. Heaven's repeated displays of ineptitude might have almost been impressive, if not for the sheer audacity of bothering Xie Lian with their inevitable failings. Xie Lian would always smile serenely at his undisguised irritation, and the fleeting brushes of petal softness, still warm on Hua Cheng's lips even after his beloved's hasty departure each morning, were never enough.
The combination of all these things, it seemed, had ultimately taken their toll on his body. Xie Lian was simply tired.
Very tired, if what Hua Cheng had been told was true.
Hua Cheng strode purposefully towards their bedchamber, the need to verify Xie Lian's safety thrumming in his veins in the way blood did for the living. The lavish paintings and tapestries adorning the halls seemed inexcusably gaudy, unimportant when the one he prepared them for was out of sorts. Rounding the corner, he found Yin Yu standing guard outside the room. Ruoye hovered next to him, aimlessly writhing in the air in a way that could only be described as anxious. It relaxed a bit as Hua Cheng approached, its end tentatively reaching out to brush his wrist as if to ask for help.
"Chengzhu," Yin Yu greeted with a stiff nod. "His Highness regained consciousness just moments ago, but there's been an unexpected development with his condition."
Icy talons of dread clawed their way into Hua Cheng, but he kept his expression carefully neutral. "What development?"
Yin Yu cleared his throat. "Well, he—"
A high-pitched wail cut off the Waning Moon Officer's explanation. The two men turned as one towards the closed door beside them.
"Mama?" A pitiful sob emanated from within. "Mama!"
Hua Cheng's stare promptly pinned Yin Yu to the spot, wordlessly demanding answers.
"At present, his mind seems to match his appearance, Chengzhu."
Hua Cheng thought he had a tacit understanding of what he would find in that room, but this turn of events found him unprepared. His eye darted towards the door, back to Yin Yu, then the door again.
"So you're telling me," Hua Cheng said, trying to keep his voice even, "that he has completely regressed into childhood?"
"It seems so. His Highness began calling for his mother even before he was fully awake. He doesn't seem to know where he is."
Distant scraps of memory drifted through Hua Cheng's mind; feminine arms lovingly embracing him, and a soothing lullaby in a language he hadn't uttered for centuries. When his mother died, her absence had created a bottomless void that he could only fill with rage. The one person that hadn't seen him as a monster was gone forever.
He had missed that comfort, that sense of belonging, when the world outside was too large, too savage to carve out a new place for himself. Hua Cheng recognized the unbearable, inconsolable ache he could sense from the room beyond.
"Leave us. I will attend to him," Hua Cheng uttered hoarsely, not sparing Yin Yu a single glance as he quietly disappeared.
Ruoye had since wrapped around Hua Cheng's forearm in a sad imitation of where it belonged, erratically undulating and squeezing like a snake as if to ease its own nervous energy. Hua Cheng couldn't stand to see Ruoye like this, a bitter reminder that something wasn't right with its owner. Still, he couldn't help but feel a kinship with the white silk; they were both concerned about Xie Lian, after all.
"You too," Hua Cheng entreated. "Go find that useless blade."
He had to grudgingly acknowledge that Eming was also worried, always brandishing its emotions more blatantly than its widely feared sharpness. It had been tasked with guarding the entrance after Xie Lian's friends had gone—not because Paradise Manor required another layer of security, but to keep the weapon busy. It was only a matter of time before Eming got bored and sought out His Highness, but Hua Cheng couldn't let that happen. Eming's unique brand of care was far too boisterous, and Ruoye was the only thing that could reliably distract the scimitar from its obnoxious propensity for occupying Xie Lian's personal space.
But Ruoye stubbornly cinched tighter, clearly reluctant to leave when Xie Lian was so audibly upset.
"Don't worry," Hua Cheng reassured, "I will keep him safe."
These words ultimately seemed to satisfy Ruoye, and it finally slithered off of Hua Cheng's arm. Giving one last encouraging tap to his wrist, the strip of silk fluttered down the hall in search of Eming, leaving Hua Cheng to his thoughts.
His opinion of children was largely indifferent, venturing towards dislike in direct correlation to how noisy they were, but the one bawling inside his bedchamber right now was the center of his entire universe. He was the one who filled the emptiness and made Hua Cheng whole again in ways he could never have dreamed of during lonely nights spent shivering against stone feet, where the only warmth to be found came from a static smile above. It was impossible not to be moved by such raw, plaintive cries; the sound of Xie Lian in such distress stabbed into Hua Cheng like a dull blade. He wanted nothing more than to rush to his beloved's side.
But in his current state, Xie Lian would not know Hua Cheng. If he did not know him, how could Hua Cheng hope to bring him solace?
Hua Cheng could not reunite this Xie Lian with his mother. Aside from that impossibility, what could be done?
As Hua Cheng considered his options, his palm pressed against the wooden door, as if trying to calm Xie Lian with his unseen presence. It wasn't working—Xie Lian's blubbering on the other side continued. Observing his own hand, Hua Cheng's brows pinched together. Rough and sword-calloused, it lacked the nurturing tenderness of a woman's.
Hua Cheng focused intently on his fingers. They became slimmer, their pronounced knuckles scaling back beneath the skin. He could feel his body rearranging itself; planes of lean muscle metamorphosed into subtle curves, bone structure shifted into something slighter and more delicate. Maple-red robes adjusted themselves as hard edges softened and sharp angles became less severe.
When the transformation was complete, Hua Cheng looked down at her body.
It would do.
Though she could never replace Xie Lian's mother—she would never entertain delusions of trying—Hua Cheng could act the part of a carer until she could figure out how to help His Highness return to normal.
When Hua Cheng quietly pushed the door open, she found the enormous bed in the center of the room occupied by a conspicuous lump burrowed under the covers. Xie Lian's crying seemed to have exhausted him again; his diminutive form trembled with infrequent sniffles.
Hua Cheng's chest clenched. "Your Highness?"
The lump perked at the familiar address from an unfamiliar voice, and the sheet slipped down to settle loosely atop narrow shoulders. Dark hair hung in a disheveled curtain around a small face, with tear tracks staining pink, chubby cheeks. Honey brown eyes, rimmed in red, regarded Hua Cheng warily.
Even in such a state, he was still unmistakably Xie Lian, and Hua Cheng was instantly and hopelessly endeared by the young prince.
"You're not mama." Xie Lian's lower lip wobbled unhappily.
"No, I'm afraid not." Hua Cheng smiled gently. "I am San Niang. Your Highness collapsed, so I'm here to look after you until you're well."
Xie Lian tilted his head, as though weighing the veracity of her words. "Where am I?"
"This is my home. You were brought here by your—" Incompetent, Hua Cheng's mind supplied, "—bodyguards. Do you remember anything?"
Xie Lian's brows furrowed. "I was...going somewhere. I really wanted to go home." He blinked slowly, eyes downcast and shimmering with the threat of fresh tears. He swallowed hard. "I want to go home."
The urge to console Xie Lian drew Hua Cheng forward, red string leading her to where her heart resided. The delicate tinkling of silver chains accompanied every footfall, instantly capturing the little prince's attention as his head snapped up. He knew not the horrors that sound heralded to those that incurred Hua Cheng's wrath. From Xie Lian's innocent perspective, every step was light and musical, not a shred of danger to be found as he looked her over. That was good, as Hua Cheng had not taken the time to consider an alternative style of dress in her haste to be at his side.
Hua Cheng stopped at the side of the bed, greeted by a wide, curious stare. "When you're well enough, we can—"
"Jiejie!" Xie Lian interrupted. "What happened to your eye?"
Hua Cheng's palm immediately clapped over her eyepatch in shock. She took this form to appear as nonthreatening as possible to the frightened, indisposed Xie Lian, but had neglected to hide her disfigurement. It was an oversight borne of single-minded urgency to check on His Highness, but an oversight nonetheless.
Before Hua Cheng could berate herself for such a misstep, a tiny hand reached out to clutch at her crimson sleeve.
"Are you hurt?" Xie Lian's bright eyes, unclouded by judgment, shone with earnest concern.
He may have been younger now than Hua Cheng had ever known him, but His Highness was, and would always be, His Highness. It was not in his nature to ridicule, nor would he ignore someone who he believed was in trouble.
Hua Cheng's momentary anxiety dissipated, chased away by the sinless aura of the child in front of her. Seeing that her eyepatch provoked inquisitiveness as opposed to fear, an idea came to mind.
"Not at all, Your Highness. This happened long ago. I could tell you the tale, but…" She trailed off, humming thoughtfully as she regarded the prince with a tap of her chin.
"Please tell me, jiejie!" Xie Lian exclaimed, only to bashfully duck his head when he caught himself addressing Hua Cheng so informally. "I-I mean, please tell me."
Hua Cheng, charmed by each and every word that came from Xie Lian's mouth, grinned widely. "I don't mind if Your Highness calls me 'jiejie'. In fact, that would make me very happy."
"Okay...jiejie." Xie Lian peeked shyly up at her through the dusky fringe of his lashes, an adorable flush coloring his round cheeks.
This child was truly too precious! Hua Cheng wanted to hug him tightly until he was wholly cured of his affliction, and then hug him some more.
"Mine isn't a story for the faint of heart," Hua Cheng said, masking her delight with a grave tone. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"
Xie Lian sat up straight, nodding vigorously.
"I can only tell big boys who are brave," Hua Cheng said solemnly. "No more tears, hm?"
Xie Lian nodded again, now clutching Hua Cheng's sleeve with both hands. "I'm big enough!" he insisted. "I'm six!"
Hua Cheng's lips rounded in feigned surprise. "So you are! Then—"
She was interrupted for the second time that day by a demanding rumble from the boy's stomach. Xie Lian squeaked in shame, promptly shuffling backwards on the bed in an attempt to retreat under the sheet again.
It was a reaction that was so typical of Xie Lian that it took everything Hua Cheng had not to laugh.
She smoothly caught the edge of the silk between two fingers, preventing the prince from hiding. "I'm afraid I've neglected to offer food to my esteemed guest," Hua Cheng said. "Please allow me to correct this mistake."
The tension in Xie Lian's shoulders slowly unwound. He nodded.
"What would Your Highness like to eat?"
Xie Lian nibbled on his lower lip as he thought it over. Hua Cheng smiled encouragingly.
"Mantou," he said at last, doe-eyes captivating Hua Cheng with a single look.
While Hua Cheng would never be able to deny a single request from Xie Lian on a normal day, this sweet little face held her in thrall by tenfold.
"Of course," she answered.
Crimson Rain Sought Flower was utterly defenseless against such a formidable opponent.
❀ ❀ ❀
With the promise of an imminent story and snack, Xie Lian was cajoled into letting Hua Cheng do something about his attire. When his body had shrunk, his white cultivator's robes chose not to follow suit. The cumbersome fabric was piled all around him; it sagged from Xie Lian's slim shoulders, hilariously ill-fitting and dangerously close to simply giving up and falling off. Hua Cheng considered shrinking the garments to fit, but that would leave His Highness quite distressed when he changed back and found himself bursting out of them.
She decided to improvise, removing his outer robe in its entirety, along with his trousers. The inner robe was more than long enough to cover him, and would ultimately be the most comfortable thing to lounge in for the time being. As she began to pull it snug, a familiar glimmer caught her eye.
"Hm?" Xie Lian picked up the crystalline ring that had slipped out of his robes, dislodged by Hua Cheng's efforts.
Hua Cheng gave pause, observing as he held the last remnants of her mortal existence in the palm of his hand. His awestruck mien gleamed more brightly than the shining facets housing her ashes. Xie Lian delicately traced one fingertip over it, following its shape.
If Hua Cheng concentrated very hard, she could feel his warmth through its surface. It was a meager balm to ease the ache in her chest surrounding the situation, but it was better than nothing.
"Pretty," he breathed. "Jiejie, where did I get this?"
Hua Cheng was uncertain of what expression he caught her wearing, but she carefully schooled her features to something patient and pleasant.
"It belongs to someone very important to me," she said. "When I heard the crown prince would be here, I knew you were the right person to look after it for me." She secured Xie Lian's belt around his tiny waist. "So I can look after you."
"Why doesn't that person have it?"
There was no simple way to tell Xie Lian that the ring was already exactly where it belonged.
"He had to go away for a while." Hua Cheng smoothed down Xie Lian's collar. "So you must take good care of it. Otherwise, he'll be very sad."
Xie Lian didn't hesitate, tucking the chain into his robe to rest next to his heart. He patted it through the fabric.
"I will, jiejie."
❀ ❀ ❀
Once Xie Lian's clothes had been seen to, the mess atop his head stood out even more. It was difficult to tell whether its tangled disarray originated from battling or bawling—both proved to be formidable struggles for His Highness—but whatever the reason, it simply couldn't be left alone. With food acquired, Hua Cheng placed Xie Lian before a mirror on the most luxurious cushion she could find. He sat obediently, seizing a freshly steamed bun from a basket near his knee. The soft, pillowy dough squished slightly in his eager grasp.
"Tell me, Your Highness," Hua Cheng began, working her way delicately through some knots with a white jade comb, "what do you think happened to my eye?"
She glanced into the mirror to find Xie Lian looking right back at her, the mantou poised halfway to his open mouth. He closed it. "A fight?" he guessed.
A true martial god through and through.
"Right you are!" Hua Cheng's lips curled into a satisfied grin. "You're very clever."
Glowing pink from her praise, Xie Lian averted his gaze to stare down at the bun clutched in his fist. "Who did jiejie fight with?" he asked, taking a bite.
Directing the topic of discussion away from himself when he was embarrassed was an endearingly familiar habit Xie Lian had, but so were the furtive glances he kept directing her way, betraying his curiosity. He had always loved the way Hua Cheng regaled him with tales.
"A very wicked, very powerful Ghost King called Hua Cheng," she said. "Have you ever heard of him?"
With wide eyes and cheeks stuffed full, Xie Lian shook his head, only to wince as the movement caused a tug on his scalp. Hua Cheng softly shushed his resulting little huff, gently gathering the fine strands back into place.
"He rules the Ghost Realm," she continued once Xie Lian had settled. "He's known for being ruthless and cunning. Even the heavens fear him."
Xie Lian had finished his first mantou and picked up another. "Why would jiejie want to fight with someone like that?"
"Good question," Hua Cheng sighed, slowly dragging the comb through Xie Lian's hair in long, careful strokes. "It was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I suppose. I was trapped with some people in a cavern. He showed up, and demanded a sacrifice to forge a cursed weapon."
Xie Lian sat up with rapt attention. He reached for another bun even before the one in his mouth had been swallowed down. Hua Cheng was relieved to see him eating so willingly; she had discreetly added some spiritual power to the food before giving it over, to expedite Xie Lian's recovery as he filled his belly. She hadn't been sure how much of an appetite he'd have, but this was certainly promising.
"In order to spare the lives of all those mortals, I faced him," Hua Cheng said, setting the comb aside. She playfully twirled a silken lock of Xie Lian's hair. It was as dark as the night sky, and shone as brightly as stars. "I was soundly defeated. What do you suppose he did next?"
Their gazes met in the mirror. Xie Lian heavily swallowed his mouthful of food. "Your eye?" he ventured hesitantly.
"Indeed." Hua Cheng surreptitiously lifted her hand. "Rather than taking my life, Hua Cheng plucked—" she made an abrupt snatching motion before Xie Lian's startled face, "—it right out to create his evil weapon."
"What kind of weapon?" Xie Lian asked breathlessly.
"A silver scimitar he calls Eming. Have you ever seen a scimitar before?"
"Yes!" Xie Lian chirped. "It's got a curved blade!"
"That's right," Hua Cheng said, running her fingers softly through the fine strands to ensure all the knots were gone. "Your Highness must like swords."
The boy wiggled in place where he sat, his enthusiasm nearly tangible. His interest in weaponry had surely begun before he could even walk.
"I like swords very much!" Xie Lian beamed. "I love learning about them! My teacher told me I can have a real sword soon if I do well with my lessons!"
Hua Cheng smiled back. "That's wonderful. I'm sure you work hard."
Having met the frustratingly difficult to impress curmudgeon who once taught Xie Lian, Hua Cheng thought the prince must have been an exemplary student indeed.
"Mm, but," Xie Lian mumbled distractedly, his eyes falling half-closed, "what happened after that? Was jiejie badly hurt?"
"Ah, yes. So Eming was forged, with my eye placed in the center of its hilt! Such a barbarous, vile thing." Hua Cheng clicked her tongue in disgust. "Ugly, too."
If the scimitar in question was able to hear its master's unflattering description, it would have surely sulked and immediately sought refuge in the arms of His Highness. No matter what, Hua Cheng could not allow Eming anywhere near Xie Lian until he was returned to normal. Fortunately, Ruoye was keeping it occupied elsewhere.
"Did Hua Cheng let everyone go, then?" Xie Lian asked.
When Eming was created, almost all of Hua Cheng's power had been depleted. Fighting against nearly insurmountable odds, the decision to protect those terrified mortals was a reckless, risky venture—but it's what he would have done in Hua Cheng's place.
"He left after that," Hua Cheng assured him. "He must have had something else to do."
Like becoming powerful enough to strike fear into the hearts of heavenly officials, for example.
Xie Lian sat quietly for a long moment, blinking slowly. Then his mouth opened wide, choosing that moment to interrupt story time with a yawn. "I'm glad," he murmured, absently rubbing his eyes. "Jiejie is well."
The idle fingers stroking Xie Lian's hair stilled. Hua Cheng caught a glimpse of the mantou basket, completely empty.
Her expression softened. Even the strongest of warriors would become drowsy with such a full belly and a soothing touch.
"I want Your Highness to be well, too," she said. "Are you tired? Would you like to rest?"
"No," came the automatic reply. Xie Lian sat up stiffly, blinking rapidly to prove how he wasn't tired at all. But another traitorous, ill-timed yawn immediately revealed his fib, and the little prince hung his head in shame. "I mean...yes, please."
❀ ❀ ❀
Hua Cheng had lifted Xie Lian countless times before, but the lightness of the body cradled against her was a fascinating novelty. She took her time carrying the prince back to the bed, savoring the way he nuzzled sleepily, his fingers curling into her robes.
Xie Lian had gone quiet by the time Hua Cheng bent down to place him back amongst the soft red silk. She thought that he had already begun to doze, but his grip tightened, refusing to let go.
Taken by somnolence, he was slow to focus on Hua Cheng. "Please stay with me."
Being by Xie Lian's side was Hua Cheng's natural state of being, an honor she would give anything to maintain.
"Of course, Your Highness."
If Xie Lian had asked for the moon and stars, Hua Cheng would have agreed just as readily.
Gingerly climbing onto the bed beside Xie Lian, Hua Cheng settled on her side. A peaceful smile lit up the child's face as he shifted nearer. As always, Hua Cheng greeted Xie Lian with open arms.
Xie Lian nestled against her chest, and a calm stillness blanketed the two of them. Long afternoon shadows gave way to twilight as Hua Cheng pondered Xie Lian's condition, and how vulnerable he was in this state. Fierce protectiveness burned through her; she would guard this precious person with absolute vigilance, no matter how long his recovery took.
"Hm?" She was tugged from her musings, quite literally, by her hair as small, probing fingers idly toyed with the red coral pearl affixed to the end of her braid. This Xie Lian did not know its significance, its smooth luster salient yet understated in its meaning. "Is something the matter, Your Highness?"
Xie Lian twirled the bead, rolling it this way and that.
"Jiejie must be strong," he announced at length, hushed in their close quarters.
Hua Cheng hummed. "What makes you think so?"
"You—" Xie Lian was interrupted by yet another protracted yawn. "You faced the bad man," he amended drowsily.
He was so tired, but still so invested in the story. Hua Cheng smiled indulgently, unseen by the child she held.
"I lost," she said succinctly.
"You lived," Xie Lian insisted.
"So I did."
In a manner of speaking.
"I would have protected you," he drawled, peering up at Hua Cheng through drooping eyelids. "So you wouldn't have to fight."
"The kingdom of Xianle truly has the most courageous, noble prince," Hua Cheng cooed, amused.
"Hmph," Xie Lian grunted with a pout. "Don't tease me, jiejie."
It was, quite possibly, the cutest thing that Hua Cheng had ever seen.
"I assure you, Your Highness, you will never find another person more sincere than me."
Xie Lian's slightly unfocused stare teetered on the edge of slumber, yet seemed to unerringly pierce right through to her core.
"Okay," Xie Lian said simply.
Hua Cheng had been weighed, measured, and deemed worthy of his trust, it seemed.
"I will become strong one day," he mumbled, snuggling down into the sheets. Each lethargic blink of his golden brown eyes became slower than the last. "So I can save others. Stronger than Hua Cheng. Stronger than everyone."
The words could have been those of any spirited youth—idealistic and foolhardy, ignorant of the true struggles and cruelties of the world at large. Hearing them from the mouth of one whose past exploits were already the stuff of legends, however, filled Hua Cheng with immeasurable fondness.
This Xie Lian did not know he was already the strongest. Hua Cheng yearned to send him off to sleep with lullabies of his own perseverance and integrity, but he was only a breath away from venturing unaided into such vibrant dreams.
She tenderly smoothed Xie Lian's hair back from his face, pressing reverent lips to his forehead.
"Ah, xiao bao, I know you will."
The prince drifted off with a contented smile.
❀ ❀ ❀
"Your Highness," Hua Cheng asked, "how do you feel?"
Xie Lian sat up amongst the sheets, charmingly bed-headed and sluggish just like any other morning, but also, back to his usual size. Hua Cheng had allowed his illusion to dissipate in kind, itching with the need to pull his beloved into his arms. He restrained himself for the moment—at least until he made sure Xie Lian was all right.
Xie Lian rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "A bit humbled."
"Do you remember what happened to you?" Hua Cheng asked.
Xie Lian nodded, looking troubled. Hua Cheng wanted to kiss away the worry line between his brows.
"I messed up," Xie Lian said. "Even after eight centuries, I don't know when to quit."
"Tenacity is a good thing."
"Even in a situation like this?"
"Don't trouble yourself with minor details." Hua Cheng reached for Xie Lian's hand, twining their fingers together. "The important thing is that you returned home safely."
"Maybe a bit more...ah, compact than when I left," Xie Lian said with a sigh. "Still, thank you. You took very good care of me."
"If gege approves of the way I handled things," Hua Cheng said, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards, "I couldn't hope for a better outcome."
"San Lang."
"Yes?"
"Why the different form?" Xie Lian asked with an arched brow.
"Why not?" Hua Cheng countered playfully, squeezing their conjoined hands.
"Fair enough," Xie Lian conceded, "but it was a bit strange."
"Was I not pretty enough?"
"Wh—that's not what I'm talking about!" Xie Lian spluttered. "I mean, you looked fine!"
Hua Cheng's grin grew wider with every flustered syllable, which only made Xie Lian's blush darken further. Taking pity on him, Hua Cheng gathered Xie Lian into an embrace, who promptly hid against his shoulder.
"You introduced yourself as 'San Niang', but there was no way I could call you that," Xie Lian groaned, burrowing his thin face into Hua Cheng's neck. "I certainly have no wife, let alone three of them."
"I was more concerned about you than semantics," Hua Cheng said with a gravitas that did not match the amusement tickling his insides. "Besides," he went on, nuzzling his cheek against Xie Lian's rumpled hair, "you know I will gladly be whatever gege needs me to be."
"I don't need a wife," Xie Lian said. "I just need you."
"You will always have me," Hua Cheng vowed.
"Actually," Xie Lian said, curling his fingers into the back of Hua Cheng's crimson robes, "there's something else I need."
"Oh?" Hua Cheng asked lightly, concealing the way his vexed mind instantly began to search his memory for anything he had neglected to provide for His Highness while he was vulnerable; he had kept Xie Lian safe, comfortable, entertained, and fed. There was the possibility that the spiritual power Hua Cheng had given him via mantou was not enough, but he highly doubted Xie Lian was asking for such intimate means so soon after returning to normal. Besides, there was time for that later.
Hua Cheng was ultimately unable to come up with anything, but his attention turned away from thoughts of inadequacy when Xie Lian shyly spoke up again.
"San Lang, um…" He gave an awkward chuckle, squirming against Hua Cheng. "Can I have some pants soon? I feel a draft."
Just like that, Hua Cheng's worries were swept away by a swell of affection, like withered maple leaves scattering before springtime's first mild, flower-scented breeze. Surrendering to the simplicity of his happiness, he let out a laugh of unrestrained joy. He wanted to hold onto that feeling.
"Of course, gege."
Hua Cheng smiled, and held Xie Lian even tighter.