Chapter Text
Have fun while reading!
unfortunately: nothing belongs to me, wether those lovely lovebirds Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, or the Mo-Incense-Burner or puqi shrine.
All characters, the original story and all rights belong to Mo Xiang Tong Xiu.
I‘m just a devotee who likes to daydream and read.
Chapter 1
“Fragrance of Illusions”
The sun was just retreating as Xie Lian made his way toward Puqi Shrine. He carried an old woven basket over his shoulder—usually filled with broken, unwanted, or worn-out items. The light of the setting sun had dissolved into a pale violet, while crickets welcomed the dusk.
Just before reaching Puqi, he paused to brush the warm sweat from his brow and took another look into his basket.
“Nothing but old spoons and a broken teapot,” he muttered, somewhat disappointed by today’s collection efforts. He bent down toward a glimmering shard when something caught his eye.
There, at the roadside, just behind a willow fence, stood an object.
It was a small black bronze incense burner—dainty, yet adorned with elegant engravings that spiraled like fine branches. Three legs supported its bulbous body, topped by a lid, shaped like a stylized lotus blossom.
“Hm?” Xie Lian frowned. “One doesn’t often see something like this…” Carefully, he picked it up. It was astonishingly intact—almost pristine. No rust, no dust.
It seemed almost too perfect. Unmarked. Almost… deliberately placed. He turned the burner in his hands, inspecting the piece. It appeared valuable—who would forget something like this here? He glanced around, but through the twilight saw no one.
A second look and his instincts told him it was no ordinary incense burner. And somehow he couldn't shake off the feeling, that this thing was for him to find.
When he held it to his ear, he heard—a faint sound. Like whispering laughter.
Xie Lian decided to bring it with him. If it was dangerous, it’d be safer in his care anyway.
Arriving at Puqi Shrine, he was greeted by the familiar scent of aged wood and burned food from today’s offerings.
Hua Cheng was already lying sideways on his sleeping mat, resting his head on his arm. When Xie Lian entered, Hua Cheng sprang up and took the basket from his shoulders.
“Gege, it’s so good to have you back.”
Relieved of his burden, Xie Lian rolled his shoulders and sat down on the mat with the incense burner.
“Look, San Lang, what I found on my way.” He held up his discovery and inspected it with Hua Cheng, who wrapped his arms around him from behind and peered curiously over Xie Lian’s shoulder.
A candle flickered in the shrine as Xie Lian tinkered with the burner.
“You do realize this little oven will either curse you or send you into a nightmare, right?” teased Hua Cheng.
“Oh, please,” Xie Lian replied, blowing a stray hair from his face. “I’ve handled worse. Do you remember the singing chain that nearly collapsed our entire roof?”
“An excellent example why you shouldn’t spontaneously ignite things, Gege.” Still, Hua Cheng handed him a piece of dried incense. Xie Lian smiled and carefully placed it inside the burner. The scent that soon rose was sweet, foreign—not entirely natural, yet not unpleasant.
“Mmm… that really smells good,” Xie Lian murmured, leaning back. Hua Cheng pulled him closer and pressed his cheek against his.
“How was your day at the Gamblers’ Den?” Xie Lian asked softly, eyes half-closed.
Hua Cheng snorted lightly. “Oh, nothing major. Just a small brawl that ended with fire.”
Xie Lian raised an eyebrow.
“A fox spirit tried to curse the cards. Let an entire table win—except one particular rich guest.”
“A fox spirit?” Xie Lian laughed sleepily. “What happened?”
“He turned into a waitress and cursed the man’s wine glass. Every time he drank, his cards became visible to the other players—so everyone knew his hand.” Hua Cheng grinned and continued: “And he was a very thirsty gambler.”
Hua Cheng took hold of Xia Lians Hands and rubbed his fingers lightly.
“At the end, he ripped over the entire card table in anger, started a fight and crashed into several tables.”
Xie Lian laughed for real now. “And you?”
“I burned the cards. And the tables too.”
“San Lang…”
“What?” Hua Cheng grinned innocently. “Those were old.”
Xie Lian chuckled and closed his eyes for a moment. “And here I thought I had the more exciting day.”
“What happened?”
“We had a heavenly assembly.” Xie Lian exhaled.
“Oh. My deepest condolences,”
Oh so insincere thought the god.
“Mu Qing complained,” Xie Lian continued, his voice taking on an almost ceremonious tragic tone, “that one of his temples was burned down.”
Hua Cheng made an innocent sound—almost credible if Xie Lian hadn’t seen through him.
“He claimed someone set fire to the offerings. Everything went up in flames within seconds. Starting with the curtain.”
“How tragic.”
“He said someone saw butterflies near the temple.”
“There are many butterflies.”
“He said they were silver.”
Pause.
“I’m sure it was a Green-Silver-Spangled Shark,” Hua Cheng said, almost convincingly. “Those butterflies aren’t so rare.”
Xie Lian sighed and nestled deeper into the embrace. “I defended you, you know.”
“Of course you did. After all, I’m innocent.” Hua Cheng stroked Xie Lian’s arm.
“Mmm,” Xie Lian hummed.
“You don’t believe me?” Hua Cheng lifted an eyebrow, feigning offense.
“I love you.” Xie Lian burst out, turning bright red immediately.
“That’s not a no.”
Xie Lian buried his face in Hua Cheng’s shoulder, closed his eyes and smiled.
Eventually, their voices softened. Then fell silent. The scent of incense wove between them like a silken veil. Their breathing grew calmer—the candle flickered. Dusk descended upon their senses. The stick incense smoke curled through the hole in the roof into the night.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzz
Xie Lian didn’t know when he had fallen asleep. But when he opened his eyes, he was… in his old chambers.
Not those desolate ruins of the Xianle Palace, as they appeared after the fall—but fresh, bright, alive. Sunlight streamed through finely patterned windows; the scent of jasmine filled the air.
He was dressed in royal robes, fine as waterfall silk, embroidered in gold.
His hands—smooth, without callouses.
The mirror—golden-framed, untouched.
“What…?” he murmured, feeling something on his head and touched his old hair ornament.
A sound came from the door. Water being poured into a basin. One voice or…? No. Only one.
The crownprince rose and quietly approached the door to the adjacent room. His hand froze on the handle.
Someone was inside.
There stood a young man in palace attendant’s garb. Dark red hair, braided. Sleeves rolled up as he leaned over the stone bath basin. Steam curled over the hot water.
Xie Lian blinked.
“San Lang?” he whispered, almost aloud.
The attendant turned because of some noise, his eyes like liquid silver. He smiled—that mischievous, warm smile that Xie Lian would recognize anywhere.
But he wore simple servant’s clothing and his appearance was unusually different.
He bowed deeply.
“Your Highness,” Hua Cheng said. “Your bath is ready.”