Chapter Text
Xie Lian’s eyes flutter open. …When did he close them? The world blurs and swims its way into reality and he staggers, only just managing to catch himself on a nearby wall. The last thing he remembers is sitting down on the steps of Puqi shrine with a book and… Has he fallen asleep? Is this some sort of dream realm? It’s possible, in fact it’s what makes the most sense, and yet…
And yet.
And yet the taste of the air and the shape of the house beside him, even the sound of worried voices floating through the air around him, it all calls to Xie Lian in some deep primal way he can’t quite name, something beyond a dream, something…
Hesitantly Xie Lian steps out of the alley he’s apparently standing in, moving from it into the great avenue beyond, and then he freezes as what his subconscious has been trying to tell him hits him harder than any blow.
He knows this avenue.
He knows these houses.
He knows the river and the accents and the clothes.
And better than all of it, he knows the palace rising from the avenue’s end.
This is Shenwu Street.
This is Xianle.
It’s a dream. It has to be. It has to be. It has to be.
How else could he be here?
How else could this be happening?
“Hey watch it! Don’t just stand there!”
“Xin don’t be rude! You can’t talk to a cultivator like that!”
The children rush around Xie Lian and all he can do is stare after them because they saw him, they clearly saw him. He’s real here, in this dream? Vision?
…No that doesn’t feel right either, much as it hurts to admit it to himself Xie Lian has long since forgotten the fine details of this street, the mingled scents, the exact rhythm of the accents, all lost to the mists of memory.
This can’t be a product of his subconscious or sleeping mind.
But that means…
…Could this be…
…Could this be real?
Xie Lian steels another longing glance up at the palace.
What if this /is/ real?
What if, somehow, impossibly, he’s been dropped back into his own past. If he went up there now, would he find his parents? Would they be there? Alive? Happy? Could he see them? Speak with them?
Desire floods Xie Lian’s heart and he’s about to take off running when he catches himself …or rather remembers himself.
If this is real, and he’s not sure it is, but even in the slight chance that it is, …what if he’s up at the palace too?
The familiar weight of his bamboo hat and Rouye’s presence at his wrist are enough to tell him, that, no, he hasn’t become the him of the past, and if he hasn’t become that other him then what would happen if he met himself? What would he think? What would he say?
No, if there’s /any/ chance this is real he can’t risk going to the palace.
…But there is somewhere else he can go.
Tearing his eyes away from the lofty heights of a not yet fallen Xianle, Xie Lian begins to move away from the palace.
He walks slowly at first, just taking in the sights, the smells, the sounds, so painfully familiar that they bring tears to his eyes and an ache to his heart. Rouye tightens around his wrist in comfort and he smiles a little at the touch then reaches up to curl his fingers around the ring which hangs safe around his neck.
“San Lang, I wish you were here with me.” He says it softly then he almost laughs at himself because of course San Lang is here, real or dream or vision, he knows San Lang must be here, and he’s going to find him.
Xie Lian has been wandering the back allies and darkest parts of Xianle’s slums for about an incents time when he hears the laughter, high and mocking, followed by the thud of something hitting the ground. A sudden sick suspicion curls in the god’s stomach and he turns, rushing back the way he came only to skid to a stop in front of a side alley. It takes him a moment to make sense of what he’s seeing but when he does a rage that he has rarely known wakes in Xie Lian.
Five boys are gathered in a ring, they look to be in their mid-teens, their clothes simple, their arms muscled from work. One of them is holding a rock, another a large wooden plank, and between them, laying at their feet, Xie Lian can just make out a small body.
“This’ll teach him!” The boy with the plank laughs, raising it, and Xie Lian is done watching.
He jumps forward, clearing the distance between them in a single step, and slaps the wood from the boy’s hand. It flies through the air and the boy cries out in shock and clutches at his struck hand.
“What-!?”
“Don’t you know any better?” Xie Lian snaps the words and it’s all he can do not to slap the boy into the wall behind him. “Attacking a defenseless child? Is that really how you make your ancestors proud?”
“Daozhang it’s not what you think!” “Daozhang this brat is cursed!” “Exactly!” “He’s been hanging around my father’s stall! He’s planning to rob us and curse our business!”
“Oh really?” Xie Lian’s eyes narrow. “Has he /actually/ stolen anything?”
“Well he…” One of the boys begins but something in Xie Lian’s gaze seems to silence him.
“So you just saw him and without evidence decided he was going to rob you. Then you decided to act as city guards and beat him for a crime he didn’t commit? Is that it? Because if that’s so then I think that makes all of /you/ the criminals.”
The boys stiffen at that, casting anxious glances at one another.
“But Daozhang, you’re clearly not from around here so you don’t know, but that brat’s not a normal kid!”
“Yeah! We’d never hurt a normal kid but that brat is cursed!! Don’t get close to him he’ll curse you!”
“He is not cursed!” It’s been years since Xie Lian raised his voice in anger to anyone, centuries since he’s raised it to children, yet now, in this moment the sound of those cruel words tears the shout from him. The boys stumble back, their eyes widening and Xie Lian stares them down with all the right to power that 800 years of godhood have given him.
“He is not cursed and he is under my protection and if any of you /ever/ touch him again I will return in kind anything you do to him.”
For a moment the boys just stare at him, trembling, and then as one they turn and run.
Xie Lian doesn’t watch them go. As soon as they turn he drops to his knees, reaching for the body on the ground.
Hong’er is curled in a ball, hands wrapped protectively around his head, his clothes dirt stained in patches that suggest the marks of feet. When Xie Lian rests a gentle hand against his shoulder he only flinches. The god’s heart clenches and he feels tears pricking at his eyes. Hong’er’s breaths are quick and shallow and there’s an ugly bruise forming on his temple just above his bandages. A head injury then, bad enough to knock him half way to unconsciousness. It explains why Hong’er stayed down. Xie Lian knows that isn’t like him.
Quickly Xie Lian shifts from kneeling to sitting and with gentle arms the god pulls the boy’s head and upper body into his lap. Hong’er is about the size he was that day in the temple, so that means he’s what? 13 maybe? It also means that this must be right around the time the trouble with Yong’an first began, though clearly, judging by the state of the capital, things haven’t gotten bad yet.
At the feeling of Xie Lian’s hands shifting him Hong’er whimpers, his shoulders stiffening as he tries to curl farther in on himself. The sight makes Xie Lian want to sob. He’s always known his husband went through hell as a child but knowing is one thing and seeing is …something else.
How badly hurt does Hong’er have to be to not even fight back?
“Shh, you’re safe now. The pain will stop soon. I promise.”
Xie Lian raises a hand and brushes the boy’s hair away from his face then presses his fingers to that horrible bruise and sends spiritual energy flowing through his fingers, healing the ugly mark and whatever injuries lay beneath.
At first Hong’er flinches away from that touch but as spiritual energy begins to fill him and his pain begins to ease he relaxes in Xie Lian’s arms, letting the god heal him without a fight, and so Xie Lian does, pouring energy into Hong’er …after all, it’s technically Hong’er’s energy anyway.
Xie Lian is so focused on the healing, and on keeping back his own tears, that he doesn’t notice Hong’er’s eyes have opened until a slim hand catches his wrist and a wondering voice whispers, “…Your highness?”