Chapter Text
When Xie Lian wakes up next, the air is sweet.
There’s a lingering fragrance in the air, one that reminds him of the Royal Palace Gardens from his childhood. It brings a soft smile to his face, and Xie Lian feels at peace.
The sunlight is overwhelming at this time of day, and Xie Lian can’t bring himself to open his eyes. There’s a minor twitch to his brows, as his facial muscles remember how to move again, then the light is suddenly blocked and Xie Lian feels something silky moving across his eyelids.
Ruoye!
One end of the sentient silk band strokes his cheek softly, as if to say yes it’s me, I’m here! and Xie Lian lets out something akin to a laugh that’s barely more than a few short exhales, but Ruoye understands perfectly. It wraps around his head gently, both wrapping him up in its sweet embrace and shielding him from the painfully bright sunshine overhead. Xie Lian is endlessly grateful for his companion, despite the circumstances of its creation, and he now treats it more like an old friend or a beloved pet.
The air smells sweet and earthy, like green and youth and joy and life. There’s a lingering dampness in the grass surrounding him and his grave, which he now remembers came from the rain. It had rained and the world smelled like it always did after rain, soft and muted and new.
The world smelled like rain, new beginnings, and life.
It was the smell of spring.
The seasons and the passage of time are odd things to an immortal such as himself. Xie Lian cannot remember the last time he was able to exist so simply as he is now, on his back in the damp grass in the middle of the day, basking in the warm light of the sun and embracing all the lovely aromas of the springtime. The feeling of springtime settling into his bones is not unlike the feeling of biting into a fresh steamed bun; it’s familiar and ordinary, but ever so pliant and warm.
Xie Lian has always loved spring.
While he can’t say that it’s his favorite season, it is the time when the flowers begin to bloom after their long winter sleep, and when the world slowly comes back to life in vibrant verdant hues. The air is crisp and cool, and the sun is bright and lovely. Spring is the time of the flowers, and that is what Xie Lian loves most about spring.
Xie Lian does not have a favorite season, but he loves spring very much.
The aroma of fresh flowers floats on the wind as easily as the tides come and go, and with it comes easy daydreams of an open field full of wildflowers. The flowers of his daydream bend and sway with the breeze, bees and butterflies flitting about under an endless blue sky interspersed with fluffy white clouds. Xie Lian imagines that his daydream can’t be too far off from the world around him, as he can smell flowers nearby and feel a gentle wind. The dream is better than reality; Xie Lian would rather not think about the disgusting way his bloody robes and hair cling to him and the feeling of the stake still embedded in his chest, and he especially doesn’t want to think about the feeling of starving to death more than a few times. Thus, he dreams.
Xie Lian isn’t sure how long he hides away in his lovely little daydream with Ruoye over his eyes. In the moments where he feels less floaty, it seems like a different day than the last time he felt lucid, and this becomes the only way Xie Lian keeps any semblance of time. He floats in an endless daydream of an open grassy plain full of flowers, and every time he’s a bit more aware of himself he mentally notes that time has passed without any idea how much time has actually passed. Eventually, his eyes have adjusted more to the light and it doesn’t hurt to keep them open during the daytime, but Xie Lian chooses to keep them closed most of the time, if only to maintain the immersion of his daydream. Ruoye has since returned to its favored place around his wrist, staying still most of the time, but it does occasionally rub itself against his palm as a comforting gesture.
Occasionally, when he opens his eyes it’s to the painted skies of sunset, and Xie Lian isn’t sure if that’s lucky or unlucky, but he’s grateful nonetheless. Perhaps he is already unlucky enough just to be lying on the grass like a corpse with no one around to help him, and that is enough to outweigh the handful of sunsets he gets to enjoy. In any case, it becomes his favorite part of the lucid moments.
It is one of those lucky occurrences when he sees it.
He’s a little less lucid this time, and he isn’t sure if the vibrant colors of the setting sun are real or imagined. The colors seem to move nebulously, as if the skies themselves were alive and performing an ethereal dance to paint the world in warmth one last time before they inevitably succumb to the darkness of night.
It’s too early to be seeing stars, and stars don’t move, so what could the silver thing wandering about just at the edge of his vision be? As if beckoned by Xie Lian’s curiosity, the silver light moves closer and closer until it passes over his prone body and he can finally see what it is.
A beautiful little silver butterfly.
It sparkles and shimmers with a light entirely its own, and even in his hazy state, Xie Lian can sense its innate spiritual energy. He can’t recall ever having known of any such creature, certain he would’ve remembered such a pretty thing if he had ever come across one before or even read about one somewhere, and yet somehow its energy feels oddly familiar. Xie Lian manages to tilt his head ever so slightly as it flies past, if only to watch it for a second longer.
The butterfly doesn’t fly off into the distance like he thought it would. Instead, it circles back around to Xie Lian’s body, though its movements are a bit slower now, as if it’s hesitant to approach. The corners of Xie Lian’s mouth twitch upward in his best attempt at a soft smile, which the butterfly seems to like. Xie Lian isn’t sure how exactly he knows that the butterfly likes seeming him smile, but something in him can just tell.
The sky has become almost completely dark, and the butterfly has perched on the grass beside him, between his head and the lip of his grave. Xie Lian finds himself breathing to the rhythm of the butterfly’s wings opening and closing, until the darkness of the night swallows him whole once more.