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Yin Yu is of course eternally grateful to Hua-chengzhu for helping reform his spirit and giving him his old job back, but sometimes, he wonders if he would have been better off as a wandering spit of ghost fire instead.

“You want me to accompany you and Xianle-dianxia out on your…outing through a garbage dump to keep General Xuan Zhen and General Nan Yang from fighting and distracting Xianle-dianxia?” he asks.

“Since those two got together, they’ll probably just end up distracting themselves,” Hua Cheng says languidly. “It’s more Quan Yizhen that I’m worried about distracting Gege.”

Yin Yu tightens his grip around his brush. “…I thought this was just a routine mission? Surely, there’s no need for so many gods—”

“Probably not, but the brat got curious about scrap collecting, and Gege is eager to take him to look around while we hunt down whatever is eating the villagers, so he’s coming,” Hua Cheng shrugs. “That’s fine, but you know he’ll end up causing a mess. See to it he doesn’t do too much.”

(Easier said than done—everyone always thinks he has some kind of control over Yizhen, but when has he ever been able to get Yizhen to do anything he wants to do?

Hua-chengzhu should know—after all, the only way he’s ever been able to get away from Yizhen chasing after him is when Hua-chengzhu turns Yizhen into a daruma doll.

Although he supposes he should give Yizhen a bit more credit—he had never expected that his wild little shidi who had always run away during meditation lessons, preferring instead to cultivate through fighting as per usual, would actually have the patience to sit still and meditate and focus on reforming his old shixiong’s spirit back together.

And he’s grateful, he really is, but at the same time—

Did it have to be him ?

Everything—it always leads back to Yizhen somehow, ever since he barged into his life.

He had at first thought that maybe Yizhen would hold himself back a little since he knows full well Yin Yu’s resentment towards him now, but of course his stubborn shidi didn’t.

He immediately tried to hug him after he reformed, and now his constant cries of “Shixiong!” ring through the streets of Ghost City as he searches the place high and low for him.

Xianle-dianxia is truly worthy of being basically the ruler of the heavens now to be able to handle him.

Although he’s less happy about that relationship now that it’s getting in the way of Hua-chengzhu’s lovey-dovey plans and requiring him to intervene.

And adding in General Xuan Zhen and General Nan Yang—even if they were together now—and that was new—Yizhen might want to fight them, and then he’d have two irritated martial god couples after him.)

Yin Yu shakes his head to clear out his thoughts and asks for clarification, “General Xuan Zhen and General Nan Yang are together? …is that why you had me contact the Immortal Alchemist and track down Jian Lan before?”

“Maybe,” Hua Cheng says with a mysterious smile before walking away and calling over his shoulder. “I have every confidence in you, Yin Yu.”

As Yin Yu surveys Xie Lian eagerly digging through the trash and showing a broken umbrella to a smiling Hua Cheng while Mu Qing and Feng Xin seem to be either fighting or flirting (or both? It involves a lot of slamming their faces together anyway) while poking through the trash, and Quan Yizhen alternating between stealing sad, furtive looks at him and beating up the cannibalistic ghouls that have apparently infested the garbage dump, he’s not entirely sure where Hua Cheng got his confidence from.

“Oh, don’t tear it apart!” Xie Lian exclaims as Quan Yizhen is about to smash in the head of a ghoul. “Taotie teeth are very good for imbuing weapons with an extra bit of hunger—although a bit tricky to refine at times, you would probably need to consult an expert. Ooooh, look at these pottery shards—”

“Don’t touch that! It’s filthy!” Both Mu Qing and Feng Xin yelled at the same time, trying to slap away Xie Lian’s hands, and then getting caught up in shoving and hissing and then biting (kissing?) at each other.

In the tussle, Hua Cheng neatly takes out a red silk cloth (Yin Yu mentally categorizes it under the list of ‘other priceless goods Hua-chengzhu has ruined for Xianle-dianxia'), scoops the shards out of the muck Xie Lian was digging through, and casts a cleaning spell on them while taking out another red silk cloth to clean Xie Lian’s fingers himself.

“Oh, thank you San Lang!” Xie Lian beams at him, their hands still intertwined.

“It’s nothing Gege,” Hua Cheng replies, letting his eyes drift humbly down. “Gege wants to put these shards back together?”

“Yes! See the glaze on this? I think it’ll be a lovely bowl when put back together again!” Xie Lan says, peering down at the shards Hua Cheng has cleaned while shifting up the giant basket of scraps on his back that he had insisted he carry himself.

Mu Qing sneers. “You have whole cabinets of bowls up in the Heavens, why do you need to put together some trash—”

“It’s still a shame to see such a lovely thing go to waste!” Xie Lan says, wrapping up the shards in the cloth Hua Cheng had set them in and placing it carefully into his basket. “It’s very good craftsmanship, it’s just sad that someone hasn’t properly appreciated it—I’m sure it’ll be very good when put back together again and with someone who knows its true worth.”

“Gege as always is right,” Hua Cheng says adoringly.

Meanwhile Quan Yizhen has decided to tear the head off of the ghoul instead of smashing it in (there’s blood spattered all over him, and Yin Yu has to muscle down his ingrained instinct to go over to tidy him up), and is examining the teeth closely and with a scrunched brow.

“Where can you find an expert?” he abruptly asks, interrupting Hua Cheng’s and Xie Lian’s conversation.

Yin Yu can practically feel Hua Cheng’s mood darken as Xie Lian blinks, “For refining the teeth? Oh—well the Immortal Craftswoman should know for sure, but she’s rather busy sometimes…and a bit eccentric. I’m sure there are Ghost City experts as well—Yin Yu, do you know?”

(Xianle-dianxia is a traitor , and if it wouldn’t get him killed by Hua-chengzhu , he would be glaring at him right now.)

Quan Yizhen turns to look at him with giant puppy eyes as Yin Yu coughs and turns away so he doesn’t have to face him. “…yes, there are some deceased craftsmen and craftswomen in Ghost City. I could give you the addresses, if you are interested—”

“Why don’t you show him there,” Hua Cheng interrupts firmly, “Ghost City addresses are always shifting after all.”

Yin Yu tries not to show too much of a betrayed expression at Hua Cheng, then looks at Xie Lian for hope. “But—surely it wouldn’t be good for General Qiying to miss out on this educational scrap collecting experience—”

“Oh, there will always be more!’ Xie Lian beams at both of them. “There are so many garbage dumps to dig through—but craftspeople are very finicky, even as ghosts, so you should probably go ahead and introduce them to Quan Yizhen.”

“Indeed,” Hua Cheng echoes, giving a meaningful look at Yin Yu.

Yin Yu knows when he’s been beat (after so much experience, he would hope so at this point), so he just sighs and looks at a Quan Yizhen who is hugging the disgusting head to his chest while practically vibrating in place. “Alright. Xianle-dianxia, Hua-chengzhu, generals, I take my leave. Come along, General Qiying.”

Quan Yizhen nearly leaps forward and grabs onto Yin Yu’s shoulders as Yin Yu takes out the dice to return them to Ghost City (so much for accidentally leaving him there). As soon as they shift over, Yin Yu shrugs him off and says stiffly, “If you don’t keep your hands to yourself, I’m going to leave you here alone.”

Quan Yizhen immediately backs up, hanging his head down contritely as he clutches the head close to him. “Sorry, Shixiong. Please don’t leave.”

(Gods, what is wrong with him, as soon as he sees Yizhen looking sad, with those fluffy curls tumbling down, he forgets why he’s been avoiding him this entire time and all the shame and resentment he feels when he sees him, and all he wants to do is cluck over him, tidy him up, and hug him like he used to.

Still—that’s not who they are anymore.)

Yin Yu quickly adjusts his mask and turns around to walk towards where the craftspeople ghosts generally reside. “Keep up.”

“Okay, Shixiong!” Quan Yizhen chirps, seemingly happy to just follow behind him while carrying a bloody head.

No one even bats an eye at him because with all the blood smeared over him, he fits right in. That also has its downsides because very quickly, some other ghosts swarm over to examine the taotie head, bargaining and cajoling Quan Yizhen to pass it on to them, to no avail.

One ghost even tries just snatching it out of Quan Yizhen’s hands and predictably gets sent flying by Quan Yizhen’s fist.

Yin Yu sighs and steps in at that point, telling all of them firmly to disperse, which they do with a flurry of “Sorry Xiaxianyue Officer! Don’t tell Chengzhu!”

Quan Yizhen beams at Yin Yu, his curly hair a disaster from all the ghosts crowding in. “Thank you Shixiong!”

“Honestly, could you try using your words instead of violence, just once?” Yin Yu can’t help but ask.

Quan Yizhen tilts his head, still cradling the head protectively. “I did say no. They weren’t listening.”

“…I suppose so,” Yin Yu admits, starting to walk forward again. “You—really want those teeth, do you? Finally decided to create a spiritual weapon?”

“En,” Quan Yizhen says, nodding seriously, his earrings, the only part of him not splattered with blood, swaying in the light.

(It’s a bit strange since as long as Yin Yu has known Yizhen, he’s always preferred using his fists over any weapon they handed him—although he can use them after Yin Yu had coaxed him to practice with him.

And of course, he had surpassed him even there as well in the end.)

“…A sword?” he guesses (Yizhen did have a ceremonial sword lying somewhere that he never used).

“En. Like that one,” Quan Yizhen says, pointing at the sword strapped to Yin Yu’s side.

Yin Yu frowns, glancing down at the sword that Hua-chengzhu had given him to replace the Earth Master’s shovel that the new Earth Master had taken back. It was a fairly modest sword, befitting Yin Yu’s overall appearance as Xiaxianyue Officer, and really wouldn’t seem to suit Quan Yizhen at all.

“…as you like,” Yin Yu says slowly, with a shrug (who is he to stop Yizhen from doing whatever he wants after all?)

Quan Yizhen just looks at him and then says, “I still have Shixiong’s old ceremonial sword. Would that be better?”

(He—he had kept that?

He had assumed it had been thrown away with everything else his temple had once had after his disgrace—

And Yizhen wants to carry around a replica of that ?

General Qiying, carrying around the sword of the former martial god of the West like some sort of trophy—

Why? To pour further salt into his wound?

He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse that Yizhen is never deliberately cruel, just carelessly so.)

“ No ,” he grinds out, his hands curling into fists at his side as he picks up the pace.

Quan Yizhen quickly catches up to him, tugging at his sleeve. “Shixiong—Shixiong, you’re angry. You’re angry at me again—did I say something wrong?”

(What does Yizhen ever say that is right?)

Yin Yu whirls around, coming to a stop right then and there that makes Quan Yizhen stumble a bit for once. “Why do you keep coming here, Yizhen? I’ve made my feelings towards you very clear.”

“…Shixiong says he hates me, but Shixiong also saved my life. Shixiong is the best person I know,” Quan Yizhen says simply, a stubborn tilt to his chin.

(Gods, what is he even supposed to say to that.

Yizhen is wrong as usual but—but he did save him.

No matter how badly he wanted to be a god again—no matter how much the desire clawed at his throat or how he had dreamed about it—

He couldn’t bear to take up Jun Wu’s deal and steal all of trusting Yizhen’s powers and leave him dead.

He hates himself that it was even briefly tempting.

He—Yizhen has to stay alive.

An annoying, thoughtless, constant thorn at his side maybe, but—alive.

He can’t imagine a world without Yizhen in it at this point—it’s been too long.)

Yin Yu sighs and tries to gather up all his conflicting trains of thought and feelings (it’s only with Yizhen that he ever ends up feeling this way), moving his mask to the side so he can look at Quan Yizhen head on. “Yizhen—I’m not. You know that. I nearly got you killed—”

“It wasn’t your fault, and anyway, then you saved my life, so we’re even now even if I did care about stuff like that,” Quan Yizhen insists, his eyes blazing.

Yin Yu huffs out a breath. “That’s not how it works, Yizhen. And that still doesn’t explain—what do you even want? What do you get out of following me around?”

“I like being with Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen says, blinking. “And—and I don’t care if Shixiong hates me, I—I just want Shixiong to be safe!”

“You think I can’t even protect myself?” Yin Yu demands, a sneer to his mouth. “I may be diminished, but I was still a martial god once—”

“Shixiong, you—you died! ” Quan Yizhen yells, his face crumpling, and he looks as if he’s on the verge of tears. “Jun Wu killed you—I saw your broken bloody body, and I couldn’t do anything about it—I couldn’t save you—I couldn’t even avenge you—I was just useless—but then—then Crimson Rain told me how to bring you back and—and I did. And Shixiong—Shixiong is so powerful and smart, so of course most things are fine, but there’s still—I don’t know, there’s still things that can harm Shixiong and—and even if I’m not much use—even if giving you a new sword won’t fix things— I don’t want to see you like that again, Shixiong.”

(It’s odd.

He’s so used to thinking of Yizhen as someone who never worries about anything and selfishly does whatever he pleases but this—this seems to be actual genuine grief and worry that he’s never seen from Yizhen before.

Maybe his death really had done a number on him.

And—the sword was for him?)

Yin Yu shifts in place, reaches out, then awkwardly draws his hand back, fiddling with his mask. “I—I’m fine Yizhen. I’m a ghost now remember—unless my ashes are destroyed, I can’t die, I can only be diminished.”

“Shixiong’s ashes are safe?” Quan Yizhen demands.

Yin Yu nods, “Very safe.”

(There’s probably nowhere safer than Hua-chengzhu ’s vaults considering that Xianle-dianxia’s beloved sword collection and other various knick-knacks are also stored there.)

Quan Yizhen relaxes a little and then nods, “Good. But—but a sword with taotie teeth—Shixiong could use that too, can’t you? I don’t want to see Shixiong diminished either…”

(It’s funny, Yizhen has actually never given him a gift before.

Jian Yu had often sneered and said it just showed how selfish he was.

He’s—despite himself, he’s a little touched at that?)

“…if that’s what you really want,” he says slowly, resuming his walk. “Although surely there are better uses for your money.”

“No. I have a ton of gold piled up ever since Crimson Rain made me stop stuffing it in Xie Lian’s offering box,” Quan Yizhen says bluntly, his face brightening up as he follows Yin Yu.

Yin Yu suppresses the familiar stab of ugly jealousy (his own offerings had never amounted to even close to that much) and asks curiously, “How did Hua-chengzhu stop you?”

“He said he wouldn’t show me how to reform you unless I stopped,” Quan Yizhen replies.

(…well that would do it, he supposes.

It’s not exactly something he can replicate though.

Still it’s—it’s sweet.

It’s—

He’s lying of course when he says that he’s made his feelings towards Yizhen clear—hells, even he isn’t really clear on what exactly he feels towards Yizhen.

The jealousy and resentment are all easy—it’s the old fondness and love he has for his little shidi that complicates things.

Sometimes he wishes it could go back to the way it used to be—when he was the prized pupil of their sect, Yizhen was his powerful little shidi who only ever listened to him, and Jian Yu was also still alive.

Although—things even back then hadn’t been that pure.

Besides his annoyance at times over being the one who always had to clean up Yizhen’s messes, he had some distinctly not shixiong-like thoughts towards Yizhen as the boy had grown up into a broad-shouldered, muscular man with striking features—

Not that he’s thinking about that now.

It’s still wildly inappropriate.)

Yin Yu pauses, ducks his head, and says, “Well—thank you for that. Again.”

“Shixiong never should have died,” Quan Yizhen declares, his brow furrowed. “And—and it’s my fault so—”

“Yizhen, it’s not your fault,” Yin Yu says firmly. “Jun Wu wanted me out of the way to hurt Xianle-dianxia—whether or not you were there made no difference to his plans really.”

“But it should have!” Quan Yizhen argues back, his hands balled up at his side. “I should have been stronger—I should have been able to defeat him—”

“Yizhen—even Xianle-dianxia was only able to defeat him after releasing all his cursed shackles and borrowing some power from Hua-chengzhu,” Yin Yu reminds him gently, reaching out instinctively to pat him on his broad back. “You’re strong but even you will admit that you aren’t that strong.”

“But I can be. I’ve been training,” Quan Yizhen insists, his chin rising in that familiar position he used to take when he argued against meditation training for even more fighting.

Yin Yu narrows his eyes. “…have you been only doing that and neglecting your godly duties?”

The tilt of Quan Yizhen’s chin somehow only grows even more stubborn. “I only ever wanted to become a god so I could be with Shixiong.”

(See, that’s the crux of the problem in their relationship.

Yizhen has never wanted the thing that Yin Yu had worked so hard for and desired the most.

It had all come so easily to him, and he didn’t even want it.

Just thinking about it made him want to dig his nails into Yizhen’s shoulders and just shake him.

On the other hand—on the other hand, being a god—it had definitely not been everything his sect had led him to believe.

Even setting aside the fact that perhaps he had always been destined to be somewhat mediocre—well, look at Xianle-dianxia and everything he had suffered from being a god.

Even if it was possible for him to ascend again, even with Xianle-dianxia in charge now—he doesn’t know, he tries not to think about it.

But at the very least, he needs to guide his shidi along the correct path.)

Yin Yu rubs the bridge of his nose. “….but you are a god now Yizhen, and you have an obligation to your followers.”

Quan Yizhen scoffs, kicking at a rock on the ground. “My followers don’t care. They won’t notice.”

“I am very sure they’re going to notice if they pray for you to destroy a giant yaoguai, and you don’t show up,” Yin Yu says dryly.

Quan Yizhen shifts in place, his face shifting between his fight-happy expression and his mulish stubbornness. “They can take care of themselves for a bit, I need to get stronger.”

“And you can, even through fighting the giant yaoguai,” Yin Yu says, “And—how’s this, if you pay attention to your followers and do your godly duties, you can visit me once a week.”

(He can deal with him once a week right?

He’s really trying to be a good person here.)

Quan Yizhen immediately perks up. “Really? You won’t run away?”

Yin Yu takes a deep breath and nods (nothing for it). “I won’t run away. Oh, and no beating up your followers.”

“Only if they aren’t badmouthing Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen replies immediately, a stormy expression on his face again.

(Again, irritation that Yizhen thinks he has to stick up for his weak shixiong wars with his touched feelings that Yizhen cares that much about him.

Well—

Obviously avoiding Yizhen this entire time hasn’t made his disastrous emotions any clearer, so maybe meeting him once a week will?

He doesn’t really have any confidence about that, but at least maybe it’ll stop Xianle-dianxia from always trying to bring up things that Yizhen is doing.)

“…I don’t need you to defend my honor, Yizhen,” Yin Yu finally says. “It’s not even like fighting them seems to be dissuading them from anything—I have heard your followers think it’s an honor that you would deign to fight them.”

Quan Yizhen wrinkles his nose. “But it’s not.”

Yin Yu pushes down the urge to roll his eyes. “I know. But now they think the best way to get you to fight them is to insult me.”

Quan Yizhen’s eyes grow wide as he attempts to grab Yin Yu’s hands. “I—no! That wasn’t what I wanted—Shixiong, how do I make them stop?”

Yin Yu wrenches his hands out of Quan Yizhen’s warm grasp and says, “First—first, you need to start asking when you want to touch me, Yizhen, I am serious.”

Quan Yizhen nods frantically, tucking his hands behind his back like the good, obedient little shidi he never actually was. “I can do that, Shixiong!”

“And second—second maybe try telling them in dreams instead? And say—I don’t know, that you won’t bless their endeavors unless they stop?” Yin Yu suggests, ignoring the stab of guilt for using Quan Yizhen’s powers for his own good.

(Still—it was also somewhat better for Yizhen’s followers as well, wasn’t it? To not just get beat up and pummeled by him—he knows from experience that Yizhen never holds back.

And it would also keep Yizhen’s distractions from his duties to a minimum, hopefully.

And if less people make fun of him—well, he can’t say that he doesn’t like this idea.)

Quan Yizhen beams, rocking back and forth on his feet. “Shixiong is so smart! I will try that!”

“Okay—and Yizhen, I expect proof that you did your duties, alright?” Yin Yu warns him as they approach the craftspeople neighborhood.

“Okay!” Quan Yizhen chirps.

(…this can’t possibly backfire on him, can it?)

Once they actually meet the ghost craftspeople, it turns into an all-out bidding war as soon as Quan Yizhen just casually tosses a massive gold bar onto the table.

“Qiying-dianxia! I will be able to get the job done in a month—no a week— ”

“I’ll be able to get it done in three days, and it’ll be the most ornate thing you’ve ever seen—”

“Don’t want ornate. Want it to look like that,” Quan Yizhen interrupts, pointing at the sword on Yin Yu’s belt.

One craftswoman with a slightly pointy face gets a more thoughtful expression to her face, “…you want one to match?”

“Or is it a gift?” a thin craftsman pipes up, his eyes darting between the two.

“A gift,” Quan Yizhen says clearly, and as the ghost craftspeople all turn their luminous eyes upon him, Yin Yu has something of a sinking feeling.

“For our great Xiaxianyue Officer?” one of them prompts.

Quan Yizhen nods, and the ghosts just all crowd around Yin Yu.

“Moons! I can engrave lovely setting moons into the sword—”

“You hack, moons, really— I can give the sword a silvery sheen to match the mask—”

“I can make it properly wield ghostly essence!”

“It’s a love token, isn’t it? I can make matching sword ornaments!”

“Sword ornaments, pei , how trite—what you want are intertwined names engraved into the sword!”

“No, you know what’s most romantic—complementary swords!”

All of Yin Yu’s protests that it’s not a love token fall on deaf ears, not helped by Quan Yizhen just impassively picking the craftsman who suggested complementary swords.

(He probably doesn’t even know what a love token is .)

“You don’t even use a sword,” Yin Yu says despairingly.

“Complementary brass knuckles!” the craftsman quickly amends. “Gold with silver inlay to match yours that will be silver with subtle touches of gold!”

“I like it,” Quan Yizhen says firmly, handing the craftsman the head and the golden bar before turning to Yin Yu and bowing. “I’m taking my leave, Shixiong—I’ll be back in a week! With an official report, I promise! Can I have a hug?”

“….no,” Yin Yu says, moving his mask over his burning face despite the fact that he knows this wide-eyed craftsman ghost is going to be gossiping in a blink. “Goodbye Yizhen.”

“Goodbye Shixiong! See you soon!” Quan Yizhen gives him a sunny smile before teleporting away.

Yin Yu sighs and turns to stare at the craftsman that Quan Yizhen had barely negotiated with.

“…you’re going to be giving me progress reports on the sword,” he says resignedly, trying to muster up a professional veneer.

“Yes Xiaxianyue Officer! Will do!” the craftsman bobs his head up and down. “I will make sure the symbol of your love is the best thing I have ever crafted in all my lives—”

“We’re not in love, and I do not want you repeating that,” Yin Yu says sternly.

The craftsman makes a zipping motion across his mouth. “Not a peep! I will keep your illicit affair a secret!”

Whether or not he does is possibly inconsequential given that all the other craftspeople ghosts had witnessed this scene as well, and by the time Quan Yizhen reappears the next week, Ghost City is full of talk about the torrid love affair between a ghost officer and martial god, and Yin Yu has had to nearly beat off aphrodisiac vendors and other vendors of intimate supplies with his sword.

(It’s times like these that he really misses the Earth Master shovel.

He could always just tunnel away back then.)

“Shixiong, I’m back!” Quan Yizhen says, and Yin Yu can nearly see a tail wagging behind him as he lifts up a scroll. “I got Ling Wen to write this—what’s that Shixiong?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” Yin Yu says, hastily stuffing some bottle that an eyebrow-waggling ghost merchant had pushed into his hands into a drawer.

(Knowing his luck, it’s probably yet another kind of aphrodisiac.

He doesn’t know why these merchants keep trying to push them onto him—even before this stupid rumor had started, they had been trying to persuade him to let Hua-chengzhu and Xianle-dianxia know about their products.

Hua-chengzhu and Xianle-dianxia really don’t need that—as someone who purposefully lives on the complete other end of the mansion, he can attest to that.

And he obviously doesn’t need that sort of thing either—he’s pretty sure Yizhen doesn’t even know what an aphrodisiac is , and if he got dosed with one, he’d probably run straight to him for help, red-faced and panting, muscular back heaving—

He needs to tamp down that guilty flash of temptation and not go down that train of thought.

How his shifu—no how Jian Yu , would turn in his grave if he could see Yin Yu having depraved thoughts about his shidi….)

Quan Yizhen just blinks curiously at him before shoving the scroll front of Yin Yu’s face again. “Look, Shixiong,” he urges.

Yin Yu takes the scroll and unfurls it to see it listing out all the merits Quan Yizhen has earned answering prayers and helping out with other martial god duties, stamped at the end with Ling Wen’s official seal.

There’s also written in smaller characters below in Ling Wen’s flawlessly neat handwriting: Whatever you’re doing, keep it up, Xiaxianyue Officer Yin Yu.

(Fantastic, even Ling Wen now thinks Yizhen is his responsibility.

As per usual, he supposes.

Still—reading through, it did seem that Yizhen tried very hard this time to conscientiously do his job.

He has always known that if Yizhen puts his mind to it, he could be an even more effective god than himself.

He knows he’s being unfair—that was exactly what he had asked of Yizhen, but—

He can’t control his jealousy, and as much as he resents Yizhen for it, he also is disgusted with himself.

Some Shixiong he is.)

“Shixiong?” Quan Yizhen prompts, the words ‘praise me’ practically written out on his face. “I also—I also didn’t get into any fights with my followers, Shixiong! I just visited their dreams, told them I wouldn’t help them any more if they said bad things about you, and then I told them all about you, Shixiong. How nice you are, and how kind and patient with me…”

“That’s nice, Yizhen,” Yin Yu practically snaps, hastily rolling the scroll up again.

Quan Yizhen droops a little, even his curls seeming flatter. “Did—did I say something wrong again, Shixiong?”

Yin Yu takes a deep breath (maybe he should take Xianle-dianxia’s advice and say something instead of just letting his emotions stew and boil up inside him). “It’s—you did exactly what I told you to do, Yizhen. I’m just—I’m just not as kind or as patient as you think—I just can’t help but think that—you barely have to work at it, and you’re a much better god than I ever was, even when I was working myself to the bone.”

“Oh,” Quan Yizhen blinks then says slowly. “I don’t think that’s true, Shixiong.”

Yin Yu manages to dredge up something that he guesses could pass for a smile. “Yizhen— no one besides you and Jian Yu wanted me as martial god of the West after you ascended—”

“They were all wrong,” Quan Yizhen says simply. “I’m not—I know I’m not a good god, Shixiong. All I really want to do is fight or be with you. Gods are supposed to be more like Xie Lian or Rain Master, I think, and Shixiong is more like them than I am.”

Yin Yu awkwardly draws his hand to his throat, “You think—you think I’m more like Xianle-dianxia or the Rain Master?”

“Even if Shixiong finds me annoying, he tries his best to take care of me. He even tries to take care of my followers, even though they abandoned him,” Quan Yizhen says bluntly. “I’m a terrible god—I don’t care about my followers really, and the only time when I’m approaching a good god is when Shixiong is here to guide me.”

(…he can’t decide if this makes him a terrible or good shixiong.

This—he had never really thought of his role this way.

It doesn’t entirely make up for his failure at godhood, but—some part of him soothes a bit with Yizhen’s words.)

“Also, I hear Ling Wen sighing all the time about how it was better when you were the martial god of the West,” Quan Yizhen adds as Yin Yu stands there in a daze. “Shixiong—you still like me more than Ling Wen, right?”

Yin Yu cracks a more genuine smile at that, “Well, you never tried to kill me, so you do have the advantage there,” he says dryly, reflexively reaching out a hand to touch the top of Quan Yizhen’s head.

Quan Yizhen immediately perks up, his head bumping against Yin Yu’s palm. “Shixiong!” he calls out nearly rapturously, eyes shining.

(Yizhen has always been pretty cute like this.

But he should just take this heart-to-heart as it is and not make things more complicated.)

Yin Yu quickly takes back his hand, coughs, and asks, “What do you want to do?”

“I want to check on Shixiong’s sword and the brass knuckles, and then get a meal with Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen says immediately.

“…that’s it?”

Quan Yizhen nods then pauses with a hopeful look at his face. “The rest of the day—could I follow Shixiong around? I won’t do anything! I just—I just want to keep Shixiong company for a bit…”

Yin Yu narrows his eyes as he regards Quan Yizhen. “…you’ll just stand there? You won’t try anything? You won’t get in fights with other ghosts and things?”

“No! I swear Shixiong—as long as no one does anything to you, I’ll just stand there! I’ll be quiet and listen to everything you say!” Quan Yizhen says, thumping his chest with his fist.

“…alright,” Yin Yu says finally (he had already pretty much cleared out his schedule today since he knew Yizhen would be coming—there was mostly just patrol, so that shouldn’t be too complicated?) “But Yizhen, if you cause any trouble for me—”

“I won’t. I promise you,” Quan Yizhen says, reaching forward as if to grasp his hands before stopping himself. “I’ve caused Shixiong lots of trouble before, but—I won’t this time.”

(His heart warms even if he isn’t sure how much he can believe Yizhen.

Still, just a patrol, what was the harm in that?)

Quan Yizhen actually does behave himself for once, cracking a smile when seeing how the sword is turning out, happy to sit in calm silence, slurping up noodles at a stall with him, and at most, crossing his arms and glowering during Yin Yu’s patrol.

However, his well-behaved behavior really gives the other residents of Ghost City the entirely wrong idea.

“Qiying-dianxia! Would you like to give our Xiaxianyue Officer some flowers—”

“Pah, what flowers! Obviously Qiying-dianxia is a wealthy god who should drape our Xiaxianyue Officer in jewelry—”

“You’re all too tame. Xiaxianyue Officer, can I interest you in some Immortal-Binding Cable, created with silk to of course prevent chafing—”

“Stop crowding around, and get back to paying customers,” Yin Yu scolds, thankful that his mask hides his red face (you’d think being a ghost would have at least gotten rid of that, but old habits are hard to break). “Also, where are all of your licenses?”

The vendors immediately disperse, leaving Quan Yizhen regarding them with a furrowed brow.

“Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen finally says after they’ve gotten further away and closer to the sparser regions of Ghost City, “Do you want flowers?”

Yin Yu blinks. “No?”

“What about jewelry?” Quan Yizhen persists.

Yin Yu coughs, “No, Yizhen. Those vendors—don’t mind them.”

“I should at least get Shixiong the Immortal-Binding Cable, it could be useful on a hunt…although I don’t get why it’s made of silk,” Quan Yizhen frowns. “All those things—aren’t they things they thought you would like?”

Yin Yu tugs at his collar, pointedly not thinking about Quan Yizhen and Immortal-Binding Cable in the same sentence (Ghost City is unseasonably warm, he really needs to go investigate that, and not linger on how Yizhen would possibly struggle, the lines of his bulging muscles firm and hard—oh he’s a degenerate). “They’re not, Yizhen. The vendors are just being—troublesome as always. Don’t listen to what they say, they gossip too much.”

“…okay Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen says obediently, just following him along.

And—it oddly does seem true that Quan Yizhen seems happy just to be at his side. He comes every week, bearing records of his good deeds from Ling Wen, always asking to eat a meal with him, and otherwise following him around cheerfully. He listens quietly to Yin Yu’s complaints about parts of his job (he’s not sure how exactly they’re going to make the armory even bigger), and even if he doesn’t really offer solutions, he is always staunchly on Yin Yu’s side. When prompted, he can also tell some funny stories of what is happening with the heavens in his deadpan voice, relaying Feng Xin and Mu Qing’s latest squabble that ended with them making out in the middle of the training grounds, the Rain Master’s bull’s complete disdain for Pei Ming, and the cooking gods’ latest attempts to figure out what exactly was wrong with Xie Lian’s cooking. 

(He had forgotten how funny his shidi could be when he wasn’t actively annoyed at him.)

“And even they couldn’t figure it out?” he asks, covering his smile with his hand.

Quan Yizhen sadly shook his head. “Li Ying got completely knocked out trying to see if he fixed it, and Peng Yuhua figured out an antidote, but even she couldn’t figure out exactly what went wrong in the process of him actually cooking those weird meatballs….”

“Oh, Quan Yizhen, Yin Yu! Good to see both of you here!” Xie Lian pokes his head out and beams at them, carrying an enormous pot of—something weirdly black and miasmatic, with strangely pure and solid white balls floating among them. “I just made some Incorruptible Chastity Meatballs, do you guys want to try some—”

Before he can even think of a polite excuse or try to use his mask to cover up his horrified expression (the smell is truly dreadful ), Quan Yizhen grabs onto him, says bluntly, “There’s an emergency,” and there’s a whoosh, and they’re suddenly surrounded by mountains, with birds chirping overhead.

“…thank you Yizhen,” he says, rubbing at his nose (his sinuses are still burning a bit). “Not perhaps the politest way but—well, it truly was an emergency.”

 Quan Yizhen nods, his firm hand slipping off of Yin Yu’s shoulders. “Xie Lian should just use his cooking as weapons.”

Yin Yu shudders a bit. “It is truly impressive how bad it is. But Hua-chengzhu always encourages him and tells him it tastes great…we’ve gone through so many kitchens because of all his experiments…”

“You don’t have to eat them, right?” Quan Yizhen asks immediately with a frown.

“Oh no—Hua-chengzhu usually eats it all with a smile,” Yin Yu replies quickly, waving his hand dismissively.

Quan Yizhen’s eyes widen, and he actually looks impressed. “How does he manage to not die? Is it because he’s a Supreme?”

“No—I’ve seen Black Water run away from Xianle-dianxia’s food too, and usually he eats anything. You’d have to ask him,” Yin Yu says dryly before hastily adding as Quan Yizhen turns away, “Don’t actually ask him—he might take it as an insult to Xianle-dianxia.”

“What will he do?” Quan Yizhen asks in interest.

“You’re not going to enjoy a fight with him Yizhen,” Yin Yu warns. “Last time someone insulted Xianle-dianxia in the Gambler’s Den, Hua-chengzhu had him stripped, beaten, and then I think he’s still being used as extra stock material at one of the ghost stands.”

Quan Yizhen wrinkles his nose. “…not any of the stands we’ve eaten at?”

“No, I know which stalls are good,” Yin Yu reassures him. “I have to inspect any oddities, and I also have to check their licenses.”

Quan Yizhen relaxes. “Oh, that’s good. Do they make a lot of trouble for Shixiong though?”

“Not really? I can handle myself, and of course, they all know that if they make Hua-chengzhu unhappy, the absolute best case scenario is that they’re banned from Ghost City, and no one really wants to deal with the worst case. There is that one chicken demon ghost who keeps using himself to make stock…he keeps saying it’s totally hygienic since he’s a ghost, but I really can’t believe that’s the case,” Yin Yu comments.

Quan Yizhen covers his mouth. “Ew.”

Yin Yu nods with a laugh, “Exactly. I keep fining him, and he keeps changing his ways for a few months—and then some poor customer will catch him at it again. I suppose it says something that he’s still able to attract customers.”

“Tourists,” Quan Yizhen points out.

“There’s always those—and they’re often the ones causing more trouble,” Yin Yu sighs. “Besides that idiot who insulted Xianle-dianxia, there’s always people who think they can cheat the ladies of the night or just decide to pick a fight—the days when the ghost roads open are always so busy. And of course there’s always Black Water coming in and emptying everyone’s stalls in one go, but Hua-chengzhu just tells me to pay them off and add it to Black Water’s ever-growing bill.”

“But Shixiong isn’t kept too busy?” Quan Yizhen asks, his eyes sweeping over Yin Yu. “You look alright…”

“It helps that as a ghost, I no longer have to sleep,” Yin Yu says dryly. “Also thankfully, Hua-chengzhu doesn’t really believe in anything but the most essential of paperwork. The ghosts here are obviously very chaotic, but for the most part, they like living here—some of them are even quite nice and friendly, and Hua-chengzhu manages to keep all the ones that aren’t in line.”

Quan Yizhen huffs out a breath but turns around again. “You—you really respect Crimson Rain.”

“Well he did take me in and give me a job when he didn’t have to after all,” Yin Yu points out, somewhat confused.

Quan Yizhen nods, looking around at the mountains before saying abruptly, “You seem happier here. Than in the heavens.”

(Was that true?

He—

He certainly feels more useful than he did in the heavens, and more like he has a place where he belongs, but—

What does that say about him that he couldn’t enjoy what was supposed to be the pinnacle of human achievement, but instead likes it here more in Ghost City?)

“Did—did I say the wrong thing again, Shixiong?” Quan Yizhen asks worriedly, peering at him.

Yin Yu sighs, running a hand through his hair and finding a rock to sit down on. “Not—exactly. It’s just—I don’t know. Ascension—ascension was supposed to be the best thing anyone could wish for, and all I wanted to be was a good god, and yet—”

“No one appreciated Shixiong the way they should have,” Quan Yizhen says stoutly before looking down again. “I shouldn’t have—maybe Shixiong shouldn’t have taken me with him. Or at the very least—I shouldn’t have ascended too.”

(Without Yizhen, would things have gone better?

He knows of course that Jian Yu firmly believed that, but in the end—

It’s been so many years, and he’s even become a ghost, so he can admit to himself that while his abilities were enough for him to ascend, among the other gods in the heavens, he was rather mediocre.

If it hadn’t been Yizhen, it would have probably inevitably been someone else; Yizhen had just sped up the process.

And if it had been another martial god, not Yizhen, they would certainly have not cared at all what happened to him after he fell.

They would never have searched tirelessly for him, fought until they were a bloody mess for him, then meditated and nurtured his ghost fire until he reformed.

He can’t—he can blame Yizhen for being insensitive and not knowing what was going on, but he also never told him anything, and isn’t Yizhen trying his best to change now?

And—Yizhen is right, he is happier in Ghost City than in the heavens.)

He reaches out and softly pats Quan Yizhen on the head. “Then you wouldn’t be here with me now, Yizhen. I’m—we’ve had a lot of problems in the past, and—I’ve said a lot of things, but—I’m glad you’re still here, Yizhen. With me.”

Quan Yizhen looks as though someone has announced a holiday just for fighting and nearly levitates several inches, his face practically glowing. “Shixiong! Shixiong, I’m glad I’m here with you too! Shixiong—can I hug you?”

Quan Yizhen asks this question nearly every single time, and Yin Yu has always hardened his heart and gently refused even in the face of Quan Yizhen’s disappointed expression, but right here, with the clean mountain breeze, the birds chirping away, and the sheer adoration pouring off of Quan Yizhen—he nods. “You may.”

Immediately, Quan Yizhen’s muscled arms are wrapped tight around him, his nose pressing into the corner of Yin Yu’s neck. He sighs happily as he nuzzles in. “Shixiong is so warm and smells so nice…”

(Does Yizhen know what he’s doing?

His lips are also brushing against Yin Yu’s neck, and it’s—

He’s starting to have some trouble keeping his breathing even at this point.)

He awkwardly also wraps his arms around Quan Yizhen’s broad back, patting its firm expanse lightly. “Yizhen—probably anything smells nice after that weird dish Xianle-dianxia cooked up—”

“No, Shixiong has always smelled nice,” Quan Yizhen replies firmly, looking up at him with his big soft, brown eyes.

He can feel the heat rush up his cheeks (maybe he needs to just swallow all his dignity and ask Hua-chengzhu how to stop his body from doing all the instinctual things it used to do), and despite how warm and secure he is feeling in Quan Yizhen’s strong arms, he gently pushes him aside. “That’s enough, Yizhen.”

Quan Yizhen pouts, but pulls away obediently. “Alright, Shixiong.”

(Yizhen spends all his free time here with him, just following him around and eating with him—it can’t be all that interesting for him, can it?

Even back when they were mortals, Yin Yu had made it a point to take him to the market sometimes, buy him things, and let him have some fun.

Technically they do go to the market a lot now, but that’s mostly just Yin Yu checking the vendors and patrolling as usual, and that can’t be the same.

He barely even lets Yizhen hug him—he really should treat Yizhen better, given how hard he is trying.

His shidi is doing his best, so shouldn’t he, as his shixiong, also realize that and stop taking out his own insecurities and grievances on him?

At the very least—it is better now that they can talk about it, so Xianle-dianxia did have a point.)

“Yizhen—are you happy just following me around like this?” Yin Yu asks hesitantly.

“En,” Quan Yizhen replies immediately, nodding, “I really like being with Shixiong—I’m happier here than anywhere else.”

“But surely there’s other things you want to do besides follow me around the market?” Yin Yu prompts gently.

Quan Yizhen tilts his head, his brow scrunched in thought before he says slowly, “…that golden palanquin with the skeletons. That belongs to Crimson Rain, right?”

“Golden palanquin with skeletons….oh, that one,” Yin Yu says, recalling the bright dazzling monstrosity that Hua Cheng had proudly created back before he had successfully won over Xie Lian. “Yes, it does. Do you want to go see it?”

Quan Yizhen nods. “Yes! And—would it be possible for Shixiong to ride in it with me?”

Yin Yu blinks, taking in Quan Yizhen’s wide eager eyes. “Well—I’ll have to ask Hua-chengzhu for permission, but I’m sure it won’t be too much trouble.”

Quan Yizhen gasp of excitement was so endearing that it carries Yin Yu all the way through the meeting with Hua Cheng who raises an eyebrow at his request. “The golden palanquin you called an ostentatious gaudy waste of time?”

“I don’t think I put it that way,” Yin Yu says primly.

“You definitely did in your head,” Hua Cheng shrugs and says, “Sure, go ahead. Gege is busy now anyway, it’s been cleaned, and I’ll wish you luck.”

Yin Yu frowns. “Are the skeletons being recalcitrant again? I’ll go promise them a bigger stipend of milk I guess, although I don’t know how big you want them to grow….giant skeletons walking the earth are very obvious…”

Hua Cheng just looks at him with a smirk and languidly asks, “Have you heard what the Western kingdoms have been saying recently?”

Yin Yu racks his memory. “…I don’t remember anything in particular, although I do think some of General Qiying’s followers are a little upset he isn’t fighting with them as much anymore—although on the plus side their kingdoms are prospering, so they can’t really complain. A new ghost road opened up there, although it’s a bit small, I’m not expecting any travelers for a bit—”

“There’s talk that Quan Yizhen has fallen in love,” Hua Cheng interrupts. “He even talks about his love in his follower’s dreams.”

(… what?

No—that doesn’t make any sense— Yizhen has only ever had eyes for fighting and Yin Yu—

And he’s not sure he likes the acid that crawls up from his stomach at the idea of even getting replaced in Yizhen’s affections.

Can he never get a break—why is it that he’s never chosen—

He can’t think that way.

He should—he should be happy for his shidi—after all, not many people would spurn the honor of the Martial God of the West falling for them—although he really should find out who it is—they need to understand how blunt and single-minded Yizhen is, and that even if he’s about as sensitive as a block of wood, he has a good heart underneath it all—

He guesses—he guesses that he should use their time in the palanquin together to figure out who this person is.

That’s—that’s really not what he had been planning—

He had already put aside a bunch of snacks, and he had been thinking through the route—Yizhen probably isn’t going to want a short ride, but Yin Yu also doesn’t feel like parading through all the streets of Ghost City since the inhabitants will probably get the wrong idea and start a wedding parade right then and there.

Maybe through the ghost roads, Yizhen might like that.

And then—and then he’ll ask.)

“Thank you for informing me, chengzhu , ” Yin Yu says formally, dipping his head and moving his mask in front of his face.

Hua Cheng frowns, his one eye narrowing. “…hm. Go easy on that brat, alright? Gege won’t like it if you make him cry.”

( He’s the one who feels like crying—which is completely imbecilic, he knows.

What—did he think Yizhen would be content just to follow him like a puppy forever, wagging his tail at any scrap of affection?

Of course he’d move on to greener pastures, it makes perfect sense.

He should just—he should just make the palanquin trip as nice as possible so that at least he’ll have a nice memory to hold onto when Yizhen abandons him for his new love.)

“Understood,” Yin Yu dully answers, moving away.

The days pass too slowly, with Yin Yu itching just to call Quan Yizhen to him (but then he’d have to hear how he’s been totally replaced sooner, and he doesn’t want that—there’s not even a guarantee that Yizhen will come like he used to with this new love anyway), but he just buries himself in arranging the trip and handling the other Ghost City affairs. The day Quan Yizhen arrives, the golden palanquin is gleaming, the skeletons are all enthusiastic and know the path they are supposed to take, and Yin Yu sets his mask aside to gesture towards it. “Ready to get on?”

“Shixiong!” Quan Yizhen breathes, looking upon the palanquin with big, shining eyes. “Can we—can we really? I won’t get tipped out and have to chase after it this time?”

“Tipped out—Yizhen were you chasing after this palanquin when Xianle-dianxia was still in it?”

Quan Yizhen nods, and Yin Yu sends a quiet prayer up to Xianle-dianxia because the heavens know that if Xianle-dianxia wasn’t fond of Quan Yizhen, Hua-chengzhu probably would have cut him to ribbons long ago.

“You won’t get tipped out this time Yizhen, it’s just us,” he says, offering out a hand. “Let’s go?”

“En!” Quan Yizhen says happily, grabbing Yin Yu’s hand and pulling him up as the skeletons tip the palanquin down to let them in.

The palanquin is fairly roomy and spacious as far as palanquins go, with lots of soft cushions and silky fabric all around. The skeletons know their business, so they run smoothly and rapidly down the ghost roads, Quan Yizhen sticking his head through the thick curtains to stare at their progress.

“Shixiong, this is so cool!” he turns around and beams at him.

Yin Yu smiles back, setting his mask down, a warm pleased feeling in his chest (whoever Yizhen is in love with, they couldn’t give him this at least). “I’m glad you like it, Yizhen.”

Quan Yizhen alternates between sticking his head out and just sitting down happily next to Yin Yu, even letting out a happy laugh when the skeletons run down the hills.

“Having fun?” Yin Yu asks with a grin.

Quan Yizhen grins back widely. “The best! I can’t believe Crimson Rain doesn’t use this more often!”

“Well, I do think he mainly created this to impress Xianle-dianxia—and it did its job I suppose, since they’re married now,” Yin Yu shrugs, settling back comfortably and taking out some snacks to hand to Quan Yizhen.

Quan Yizhen takes the cracker and chomps on it silence for a bit before asking slowly, “Have—have you ever thought about getting married, Shixiong?”

Yin Yu startles, glancing at Quan Yizhen. “Uh—no, I haven’t.”

(When he was a mortal, he had been completely focused on ascending, and then as a god, he had—much more pressing concerns at the time, and then after that, he certainly had been in no state to contemplate any kind of relationship with anyone, much less marriage.

…it was a bit strange for Yizhen to bring it up though, Yin Yu would have thought he was barely aware of marriages at all.

But now—

With this person he was in love with—

Gods, how had it already gotten that serious that quickly?)

“Have you?” he couldn’t help asking.

Quan Yizhen nods solemnly as a nauseous feeling wells up in Yin Yu’s belly. “I have.”

(….what.

No that couldn’t be—)

“Do you know what getting married means, Yizhen?” Yin Yu rushes to ask, just to be sure.

Quan Yizhen nods firmly again. “It’s where two people live together and spend all their lives together! And they also kiss and hug and other things. It seems really nice.”

(…well it wasn’t like he was wrong, per say.

Just—

Gods.

He hates this.

Obviously, Yizhen was never his, and he has no claim—less of a claim, he nearly got him killed before, but—

Who is this person?)

“Does—does shidi have anyone in mind?” Yin Yu can’t help asking, only barely managing to modulate his voice to something normal.

Quan Yizhen blinks. “En. Shixiong of course.”

(…of course?

What was ‘of course’ about that?!

It’s—

Besides the mortifying heat crawling across his cheeks it’s not—it’s not an unpleasant thing to hear—there’s actually a swooping feeling in his chest when he realizes that maybe the love Yizhen had been talking about in dreams was him—although that’s really embarrassing, and certainly Jian Yu would probably reincarnate just kill him if he somehow heard about this.

But—

Does Yizhen mean—)

“And—you want to do all that with me?” Yin Yu asks, waving his hand around. “Everything—everything you said people do in marriages?”

“I’ve always wanted to live with Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen says eagerly, leaning forward.

“The—other stuff,” Yin Yu forces himself to say, despite how now even the back of his neck was hot. “You—want to do all that with me?”

“Yes.” Quan Yizhen says simply.

(He’s not imagining it.

He’s definitely not imagining how Yizhen looks in bed, curly hair tossed all over his pillow, eyes soft, cheeks high with color, mouth open and panting—

Oh no, he’s thinking about it, and apparently other physiological reactions besides blushing are also automatic even as a ghost.)

“Do you even know how all that works?” he asks, squirming around and grabbing a pillow to stick in his lap.

“Yes. Pei Ming said to be careful not to get girls pregnant, but I’ve only ever wanted Shixiong, and neither of us are girls, so it should be fine,” Quan Yizhen says seriously, leaning forward as a curly strand of hair falls forward against his cheek. “The ghosts in the marketplace also keep trying to sell me lotion, so I think if Shixiong knows which one is good, then it’ll be fine—if Shixiong doesn’t already have some—”

“No, no I—uh—well there’s probably a ton of samples left somewhere in some storehouse but, I haven’t really—Yizhen, that’s too fast!” Yin Yu says, wanting to bury his face in his hands.

(Wasn’t he supposed to be the shixiong here?

The experienced one?

He’s pretty sure Yizhen’s never—

No, focus, one step at a time here.)

“Sorry Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen says, not looking sorry at all, his eyes intent on his face, earrings swaying with the movement of the palanquin. “I just—I’m really happy Shixiong wants to spend time with me, and—and I really love Shixiong, so—I get carried away sometimes, I know.”

(Love?

Love?

That’s—

He—

Of course now he knows who all those rumors were referring to, but still—to hear it from Yizhen’s actual mouth with his rumbling baritone—

And he—

For better or worse, no one else has loomed so large in his life as Yizhen, and even when he hated him, it was never as simple as that.

Sometimes he resents him, but he also loves his adorable, powerful shidi, enough to die for him, and certainly enough to desire him for his own, even if he feels slightly guilty about it.

But—their respective positions had flipped, and both Jian Yu and their shifu have been dead for centuries, so—

So maybe he shouldn’t be worrying about that anymore.

Maybe he should instead be worrying about what it means for a martial god of the West to take on a fallen god turned ghost as a lover.)

“Shidi—Yizhen—you—it won’t look good for you to be in love with a ghost—much less one who used to be a god and is the villain in most of your myths,” Yin Yu says gently.

Quan Yizhen’s cheeks puffed up. “That’s changed! I’ve been telling all my followers how nice and kind you are—and I think they’re changing their stories!”

Yin Yu rubs his warm cheeks, “Y-yes, I’ve heard about that, but I’m not actually that good—”

“You are,” Quan Yizhen interrupts, looking him in the eye. “And—and even if all my followers thought you were a villain, I don’t care! I know who Shixiong is, and I’m not in love with you because of your position or whatever—I love you because of who you are.”

(…oh.

It shouldn’t be possible for ghosts to burst from emotions, or else Hua-chengzhu should have completely exploded before his wedding with Xianle-dianxia, but Yin Yu feels dangerously close to doing so.

It’s just—

He feels so happy, and he has no idea what to do with all these fluttering feelings.)

Yin Yu just gives up and reaches out to Quan Yizhen. “Come here, Yizhen.”

Quan Yizhen immediately scoots up against Yin Yu, his body practically vibrating with holding himself back from doing anything more than tentatively putting his fluffy head against Yin Yu’s shoulder. Yin Yu wraps an arm around Quan Yizhen’s shoulders and strokes his back as he slowly weighs the words in his head.

“Yizhen—I—I nearly killed you once—I’ve hated you—I even told you that—”

“It wasn’t your fault, and you saved my life later, and I’ve said before, I don’t care,” Quan Yizhen interrupts, snuggling in more firmly against Yin Yu’s side. “The only one who is still blaming you for that is you, Shixiong.”

“…it feels like a relevant issue,” Yin Yu points out stiffly. “And—and not something I should be forgiven for so easily.”

Quan Yizhen shrugs looking up at him. “If my forgiveness isn’t enough, that’s fine, but Shixiong should try not to beat himself up over it. I’m here, either way.”

(…he likes that.

Despite how simple that is, despite the fact that it doesn’t really solve all the guilt and resentment and disgust about said resentment that churns in his heart—

It’s nice to say all his ugly thoughts out loud, and for Yizhen to just nod and still see him as his beloved, admired Shixiong.

And perhaps—perhaps it’s time for him to tell him that as well.)

“I am—very fond of you Yizhen, and even when I hated you, I—I loved you. Love you,” Yin Yu chokes out, his hand twisting in Quan Yizhen’s curly locks as he looks down at the ground.

He hears a little gasp, and Quan Yizhen is immediately nudging him, “Shixiong! Shixiong—can—can I hug you?”

He manages to give a little nod, and immediately Quan Yizhen wraps his arms firmly around him, making oddly pleased rumbly noises, as Yin Yu’s hand moves through his hair.

“I’m so happy, Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen murmurs into his blazing hot ears, his voice seeming to have fallen several octaves down. “Shixiong—if I want to kiss you, can I ask for that too?”

(…okay, how had his idea backfired on him and made Yizhen somehow—dare he say it—sexy?

It’s terrible.

He’s terrible.

And he’s still going to say yes.)

Yin Yu simply looks up, twists his head around to get a full view of Quan Yizhen’s blown pupils and hopeful expression before moving his hand in Quan Yizhen’s hair to behind his neck and closing the last distance between them.

It’s obvious that Quan Yizhen has never done this before, his lips smashing into his as recklessly as he ever does anything, their teeth clacking together, but he is persistent, and the way he clutches at Yin Yu, and the noises he makes as if he can’t get enough—

(That pillow soon isn’t going to be enough to hide the situation.)

Yin Yu puts a hand against Quan Yizhen’s jaw and gentles the kiss, practically crawling into his lap. Quan Yizhen seems to be a fast learner at this as with any other physical activity, their kisses changing from roughly smushing together to something pleasingly bruising, as he nips at him and sucks at his tongue, and his large, powerful hands move to clutch at Yin Yu’s hips.

It’s around then that he realizes that Quan Yizhen has forgone wearing any of his usual armor, and so even through their layers of robes, Yin Yu feels something quite large and thick prodding his thigh—and he himself isn’t in much better shape.

“Yizhen—Yizhen,” he murmurs, drawing away a bit and shivering as Quan Yizhen seems to have developed a newfound fascination with the side of his neck and is licking and sucking at it.

“Yes, Shixiong?” Quan Yizhen says in a hoarse voice, only pausing in his ministrations for a second to look at him with glossy and swollen lips (from Yin Yu ) before pouncing back in.

“Yizhen—we—we should stop—if we keep going— oh —it’s going to make—make a mess that— ah —that I won’t know how to explain…”

Quan Yizhen draws away slightly, looking up at him with eyes that are practically all black, his hands still firmly on his hips. “Will you get in trouble, Shixiong?”

“Not—not trouble per say,” Yin Yu says, squirming a bit as he realizes exactly what Hua Cheng had been wishing him luck with. “But—but perhaps embarrassing to actually explain…”

Quan Yizhen lets out a huff, but simply loosens his hands a bit while sticking his head directly into the crook of Yin Yu’s neck, snuggling close. “Okay, I don’t want to make trouble for Shixiong.”

Yin Yu links their hands together, setting his chin on top of Quan Yizhen’s wild curls and tries to gather all his frayed and steamed thoughts and giddiness while breathing in Quan Yizhen’s oddly musky yet clean scent.

(So beyond attempting to keep his hands to himself right now and steadfastly ignoring the uncomfortable situation in his pants—

Now what?

Are they—what are they now to each other?)

“Are we—” he catches himself before he can let such a stupid question slip out of his mouth.

Quan Yizhen twists a bit so he can look Yin Yu in the eye. “Are we what, Shixiong?” he asks easily, blinking up at him.

“Nothing—it’s dumb,” Yin Yu says gruffly, looking away.

Quan Yizhen regards him for a bit before settling against his neck again and saying softly. “I’m really happy you feel the same way about me, Shixiong. Can—can we keep doing stuff like this, next time I come? And I can ask around for more advice about courting—Shixiong didn’t seem to like any of the gifts the ghost vendors were offering, but is there anything Shixiong would really like?”

(…why is he afraid of asking?

Yizhen would be the last person to judge him—and besides, didn’t he basically say that he would happily marry Yin Yu?

Still—as the shixiong here, he really should be the one courting Yizhen here—he should come up with some gifts himself.)

“I’m pretty satisfied really,” Yin Yu replies, a hand tracing up from Quan Yizhen’s cheek to his golden, gleaming earrings. “Maybe some fruit at most—we don’t get much of that here.”

“I can do that!” Quan Yizhen declares seriously. “I’ll go talk to the Rain Master tomorrow!”

“And—you’ve always kept these earrings on since I’ve given these to you,” Yin Yu muses, brushing a hand across them. “Do you want new ones?”

“Anything Shixiong gives me, I’ll treasure,” Quan Yizhen says, placing his hand on top of Yin Yu’s.

“You managed to keep them in such good shape—and yet, why are your clothes always such a mess?” he asks affectionately as he straightens out Quan Yizhen’s collar.

“Because they were the last thing I had of Shixiong for a long time,” Quan Yizhen says seriously.

(…well that’s somewhat heartbreaking.

He definitely needs to get Yizhen something nice—but what?

He could just tell him he doesn’t need to only visit once a week—although he does still need to keep up his godly duties.

But if he does that, Yizhen will definitely arrive like tomorrow, and Yin Yu won’t have any time to figure out a gift or anything.

What about—what if he tells him next week, after the sword Yizhen commissioned is finally done?

Surely he can figure out something in a week?)

He tightens his grip around Quan Yizhen and settles him against his chest again. “Well—Shixiong is here now.”

“Yes,” Quan Yizhen says, making a happy pleased sound as he curls in close.

The rest of the pavilion ride goes smoothly, although Yin Yu can’t quite resist from pressing a few kisses into Yizhen’s hair, which leads of course to Yizhen kissing his hands, and the only reason they manage to stop from escalating from there is because the skeletons came to a halt and announce that they have completed their mission and would like milk now. Quan Yizhen very reluctantly leaves, asking to kiss Yin Yu one more time before setting off (he pulls them into an alley for the bruising kiss before Yizhen sadly disappears back into the heavens), and then Yin Yu is left oddly bereft.

(…ridiculous, he can’t miss him, Yizhen was literally just here seconds ago.

Seconds ago engulfing him in his broad chest as he devoured his mouth—

Ahem, he can’t keep thinking about that, there was still the courting gift to consider!)

The gift-hunting however goes less smoothly. It doesn’t help that there are only so many things that Quan Yizhen likes—while yes, he is aware that most likely, Quan Yizhen would be ecstatic over nearly any gift from him, he thinks a gift to symbolize their new relationship with each other should be given more thought than that.

There’s good food of course, Quan Yizhen does like to eat, but Yin Yu wants something more permanent than that.

There’s all sorts of random items in Ghost City’s markets, from jewelry to clothing to weapons to pets, with all of the vendors excited to help the Xiaxianyue Officer, but nothing really feels right to him.

He’s idly looking through some of Hua-chengzhu’s vaults in an attempt to come up with some kind of idea, when he hears a light cough, and turns around to see Xie Lian there, petting an extremely happy looking E-Ming while setting a bowl on a shelf. 

“My apologies, Xianle-dianxia,” Yin Yu quickly bows, placing his hand at his shoulder. “If you wish to browse Hua-chengzhu’s vaults privately, I will get out of your way—”

“Ah, Yin Yu, no need to be so formal!” Xie Lian says with a sheepish grin, rocking E-Ming in his arms. “I was just here to put this bowl I repaired here and spend some time with E-Ming—I don’t mind the company. Is there something specific you’re searching for in here?”

“Not as such,” Yin Yu says, tucking his hands into his sleeves. “I was just—trying to think of ideas for a gift.”

“A gift?” Xie Lian echoes, his eyebrows rising. “Ah—is it for Quan Yizhen?”

Yin Yu shifts in place looking at the floor, instinctively moving his mask to hide his reddening face.

(How much does Xianle-dianxia know?

He’s pretty sure Yizhen wouldn’t say anything unless he was asked—but if he was asked, then everything definitely would have just come pouring out.

It’s not that he’s embarrassed about it per say it’s just that—it’s so new? And—Xianle-dianxia knows their entire complicated history so—

He’s not entirely sure what he thinks.)

“…yes,” he says softly, looking away. “I—I want to give him something—meaningful.”

A smile blooms across Xie Lian’s face. “That’s great! I just—not prying into your personal affairs, Yin Yu, but I was just saying to San Lang the other day that you seemed a bit happier with Quan Yizhen around. And of course, Quan Yizhen is leaps and bounds happier now that he gets to visit you—to say nothing of his work ethic now, my, he’s actually getting merits for once!”

Yin Yu nods, looking up. “That’s good—he brings me Ling Wen’s report, so it did seem like things are going pretty well.”

“Yes, between you and him, and Feng Xin and Mu Qing getting together, sooner or later we might be down to no property damage in the heavens at all!” Xie Lian says enthusiastically. “So—has anything caught your eye in these vaults? I’m sure San Lang wouldn’t mind you taking anything…”

“That’s very kind, your highness, but no thank you,” Yin Yu quickly interjects. “Yizhen doesn’t use weapons for the most part, and most of the artifacts here, he wouldn’t even know how to use.”

“There’s that, that’s true,” Xie Lian muses, rubbing E-Ming as its eye squints into a happy crescent. “Well—I really shouldn’t be advising you on gifts, mine are rather mediocre I must say.”

(Yin Yu had seen the belt Xianle-dianxia had stitched for Hua-chengzhu, and truly love was blind, because it clashed horribly with every single one of Hua-chengzhu’s outfits, and yet he wore it anyway.

Hua-chengzhu on the other hand, was brilliant at gifts it seemed.

There was the splendid collection of swords here that Xianle-dianxia adored, the “gambling” lessons, the flowers, the ring—

A ring.

Or more precisely, his ashes.

That’s—a promise right there, one that can’t be taken back after it is given.

Is that too much?

But then again—he gave up his life rather than harm Yizhen, and Yizhen guarded his ghost fire and cultivated it until it reformed, so what are ashes after that?

Just—maybe not a ring, maybe a pendant?

For luck?)

“You have been a great help, Xianle-dianxia, thank you,” Yin Yu bows quickly before turning to head into the corner of the vaults where his own ashes are stored.

“Eh? Well—happy to be of service!” Xie Lian calls out after him.

--

He will admit, he’s somewhat nervous the next time before Quan Yizhen arrives.

He’s carefully put on his best robes (not that they’re anything compared to when he was a god but—well, they are more comfortable at least), neatened up his hair, polished his mask, placed the pendant around his own neck, and carefully does not think about any other supplies he might have prepared back in his bedroom.

(There will be time for that later—if things go well.

Obviously things should go well, but—

Well, he’s lived too long with best laid plans going awry, so he can’t let his hopes rise up too far just yet.)

Quan Yizhen arrives right on time, wearing slightly fancier but still comfortable robes, his hair seems to have for once been brushed thoroughly, and his earrings swaying and gleaming in the light as he bounds forward, holds up an enormous basket of various fruit, and calls out sweetly, “Shixiong! I missed you a lot, and I brought fruit!”

Yin Yu takes over the basket, stumbling a bit with the weight as he peers inside. “Wow—did you empty out all the Rain Master’s orchards?”

“Just a few trees! The Rain Master was nice—she said that as long as I worked her fields for a few days, I could take everything from a certain spot. And I made sure to get more oranges, since they’re your favorite!” Quan Yizhen says pointing at the mound of oranges inside before taking out a scroll. “But I also kept up with my followers—here’s Ling Wen’s report.”

Yin Yu takes the scroll from Quan Yizhen’s hand, the brush of their hands together nearly electric. He barely reads through it, just seeing a list of merits awarded and Ling Wen’s signature before rolling it back up and smiling at Quan Yizhen who is practically vibrating in place. “Very good, Yizhen.”

“Can I hug you, Shixiong?” Quan Yizhen bursts out with, helping him set aside the basket of fruit. “And—and kiss you?”

Yin Yu flushes but nods (the palace here is relatively private after all, and Hua-chengzhu and Xianle-dianxia are off doing their “calligraphy lessons”), “Yes—”

Before he can say anything else, Quan Yizhen flings his arms around his neck and is passionately kissing him, his tongue delving into his mouth and proving that he certainly hasn’t forgotten anything from the last time they did this. He’s backed up against a wall, Quan Yizhen’s hand cushioning the back of his head as his other hand is planted right by the side of his head, his own hands buried deep in Quan Yizhen’s curls and messing it all up again, his tongue curling against Quan Yizhen’s, before Quan Yizhen has to sadly draw away, red-cheeked and panting for breath.

“I missed you too,” Yin Yu confesses, running his fingers down Quan Yizhen’s cheek before clearing his throat and straightening out his clothes again. “Also, today the sword you commissioned should be ready, so I thought we could head there first.”

“Yes! It’ll be great for Shixiong! And I can’t wait to have a matching weapon with you,” Quan Yizhen says adoringly, hopefully reaching out his hand. “And—can we hold hands while going there?”

(If they hold hands, the news will be all over Ghost City in no time.

But then again—Yizhen had already apparently gushed over him to all his followers, to the point where they all knew he was in love.

So—how can Yin Yu be any less open about their relationship?

He’s not ashamed of Yizhen after all—even if he still doesn’t entirely understand how Yizhen can love him so much.)

Yin Yu reaches out and lets their fingers twine together, nodding at him with a smile. “Yes. Let’s go, Yizhen.”

The market is abuzz by the time they reach the craftsman with the sword, and he puffs up proudly as he presents the silver-inlaid sword with glints of gold and a somewhat shadowy blade to him along with the gleaming gold and silver brass knuckles to Quan Yizhen.

“I told all of you that complementary weapons are the most romantic love token,” the craftsman says smugly to his fellow craftspeople.

“Is it really though?” another ghost mutters as Quan Yizhen takes the brass knuckles and punches around a bit.

“Shixiong, we match!” Quan Yizhen beams at him, holding out his brass knuckles by Yin Yu’s new sword and ignoring all the ghosts around them.

“We do,” Yin Yu agrees, swinging the blade around a bit and admiring it (it’s much lighter than his other sword, and is a bit similar to the one he used to carry as a mortal, if much deadlier). “Thank you, Yizhen.”

Somehow the grin on Quan Yizhen’s face grows even wider. “I’m glad Shixiong likes it!”

“I really do,” Yin Yu replies, touching his arm and sliding his hand down to take Quan Yizhen’s hand in his again. “Shall we go back to the mansion and eat the fruit you brought?”

“En!” Quan Yizhen nods, grasping his hand tight.

By the time he’s rolled the dice, and they’re back to the wing of the manor that could arguably be called his, Quan Yizhen starts attempting to feed him orange slices in between kisses.

“Stop, stop, Yizhen,” he laughs as Quan Yizhen’s sticky-sweet mouth leaves his own, gently patting his shoulder. “I—I have something for you too.”

Quan Yizhen blinks and then sits up straight, his eyes wide and looking as though if he had a tail, he would be wagging it. “A gift? For me?”

“Yes,” Yin Yu takes a deep breath before undoing the pendant around his neck and handing it carefully to Quan Yizhen. “This—is for you.”

“Oh wow,” Quan Yizhen says, examining it and then smiling at Yin Yu. “These look like those good luck pendants they used to sell right by our sect!”

Yin Yu nods. “I—I modeled it after them. It’s—keep it safe.”

“I will!” Quan Yizhen reassures him, fastening the pendant securely around his neck. “It’s so pretty Shixiong—silvery and kind of smokey—and you said you made it for me?”

“I did. Out of my ashes.”

Quan Yizhen stops and stares at him, his hands flying towards the pendant and cradling it. “Your ashes —Shixiong! You shouldn’t give this to me, you need to keep it safe, and I’m not nearly strong enough yet to make sure—”

“I trust you,” Yin Yu interrupts, his hands wrapping around Quan Yizhen’s and looking into his warm brown eyes. “You’ve held my soul in your hands before, Yizhen, so—I trust you, and I love you.”

There is a rare shimmer of tears in Quan Yizhen’s eyes as he looks at him, grips the pendant hard, and nods. “I won’t let you down, Shixiong! And—and I love you too!”

No one could resist that, not even a god, and Yin Yu isn’t even that anymore (although—perhaps in many ways, that is for the best), so he simply tilts Quan Yizhen’s head up so that he can give him a proper long, scorching kiss.

“There’s—I sorted out some of the samples in the warehouse, and—I think I’ve found something that would suit us,” Yin Yu murmurs against Quan Yizhen’s ear when Quan Yizhen finally has to draw away for breath. “It’s—it’s in my bedroom, if you would like to stay and—spend the night?”

Quan Yizhen draws back a little so he can look Yin Yu in the eye, his cheeks flushed and his mouth open in a little ‘o’. “Shixiong—Shixiong would like to take me to bed?”

Yin Yu tries and fails to control the blush that rises to his cheeks (he had asked Hua-chengzhu about suppressing that instinct, but it turns out to require a lot more control than he currently had) and manages a nod. “If you would like that—”

“I would like that so much Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen says intensely, grabbing Yin Yu’s hands and kissing his fingers. “I’ve imagined it a lot—I really can’t wait!”

(Wait, he’s—he’s imagined it a lot ?

Like how did he imagine it, because while Yin Yu may have slightly more experience than Yizhen, that doesn’t mean he’s like a sex god or anything—)

“You—how did you imagine it?” he asks, swallowing.

“I’ll show you,” Quan Yizhen chirps, dragging Yin Yu by the hand over towards the bedroom he had gestured at while already starting to undo his robes. “I don’t really know what to do but—whatever Shixiong likes, I will learn!”

Yin Yu manfully manages to not collapse from all his blood shooting downwards at that, and says haltingly, “I—I want you to enjoy yourself too—”

His words get caught in his throat as Quan Yizhen flings off his inner robe and simply lies there bare and naked on Yin Yu’s bed, his only ornament left the earrings and pendant that Yin Yu had gifted him.

(….gods.

Or should he just say, Qiying-dianxia.)

He’s on top of him before he even knows what he’s doing, shedding his own clothes frantically as he kisses Quan Yizhen and scrambles to find the lotion he had set out in the cabinet beside his bed.

“Shi—Shixiong!” Quan Yizhen moans, practically tearing Yin Yu’s inner robe off of him. “Hurry up—”

“Do—do you even know what you’re asking for, Yizhen?” Yin Yu asks fondly, finally grabbing the container of lotion and setting it by the bed.

“Just want Shixiong closer,” Quan Yizhen whines, arching up into him and showing off exactly how much he’s enjoying himself.

“Okay, okay—I was thinking—you’ve never done this before, right Yizhen?” Yin Yu manages to ask, gritting his teeth and trying not to think about how well they’re already sliding and slotting together, or the hardness prodding his own.

Quan Yizhen shakes his head, his curly hair flying everywhere. “No—only wanted to ever do it with Shixiong.”

“That’s— ah —you have no idea— then—then I’ll show you how it’s done first, and then—you can try with me?” Yin Yu suggests, smoothing a trembling hand over Quan Yizhen’s thigh and carefully nudging him to turn over.

“Whatever Shixiong wants,” Quan Yizhen says easily with a blinding grin and flipping over, intertwining their fingers together. “As long as we are together.”

--

Yin Yu collapses back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling and panting for breath that he doesn’t even need, his mind just a blank field as a sweaty Quan Yizhen collapses next to him happily nuzzles against his neck and kisses his throat.

“Was I good Shixiong?” he asks breathlessly, licking his lips and looking up at him with luminous eyes.

“Very,” Yin Yu says truthfully, sweeping his fingers down Quan Yizhen’s muscled back (his nails left some marks there—Yizhen was going to be feeling that with his clothes on, and some part of Yin Yu purrs in satisfaction). “The best—how are you such a fast learner?”

Quan Yizhen’s grin grows a little smug as he snuggles in closer and kisses his chest. “I have a very good Shixiong.”

(He would still say that he’s not but—

Lying like this in bed in the afterglow with Yizhen—

He can’t remember when he has ever felt this blissed out and happy.)

“Yizhen—stay the night. And—and tomorrow—if you want—you can move some of your things and—stay here,” Yin Yu says quietly.

Quan Yizhen pauses in his kisses and looks up at Yin Yu with wide eyes. “I can live here? With Shixiong?”

“Yes—but you still need to do your godly duties, Yizhen,” Yin Yu says, attempting to put on a serious expression.

Quan Yizhen nods frantically, hugging Yin Yu tight. “I will! I’ll move my things immediately!”

“Sleep first,” Yin Yu says, poking his forehead. “You really—even if you have a godly constitution, you need some rest after all that.”

“Okay,” Quan Yizhen yawns, tucking his head into the corner of Yin Yu’s neck again. “Good night Shixiong. Love you so much.”

“Good night, Yizhen. ….love you too,” Yin Yu whispers into Quan Yizhen’s ear.