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Xie Lian cannot quite put it into words, but something is different once he has turned the corner. Through the decades, he has become familiar with Ghost City, with its nooks and crannies and varied, strange smells, so he is certain that something has changed, but what it is evades him like water running through his fingers.
Curiously, he brushes a hand across the brickwork of one of the houses, trails his fingertips along the mortar holding everything together, and it feels… almost right. The texture is familiar – how could it be anything else? – coarse and crumbling, and yet there is something missing, or perhaps something has been added that Xie Lian does not recognise.
It’s strange, but then again, perhaps he should have gotten used to that by now; life in Ghost City has never been dull, after all.
Surely, San Lang will know the answer.
A smile spreads across Xie Lian’s lips at the thought, quickening his steps, even as his heart skips a familiar beat.
They are meant to meet in just an incense’s time, a little breath of air and love in between both of their busy days, and although they have parted this morning with a kiss and a twinkle in San Lang’s eye, Xie Lian feels giddy at the thought of seeing his husband again.
Sometimes, it feels unreal still to call San Lang that, but what is somehow stranger is that there was a time before San Lang was next to him.
Or rather, before Xie Lian knew he was there.
A hum escapes him, sweetened by the thought of San Lang, and Xie Lian all but forgets about the peculiarity of his surroundings as he continues on. After all, it is so slight, more like a change in scent than anything palpable, definitely not enough to worry him.
He walks through the streets, noticing a few new stalls tucked away in a busy corner; one of them is selling hair combs, small jewellery and other trinkets, and Xie Lian’s gaze lingers on one of them for but a moment. It’s a comb made from silver, an inlet of garnets in the shape of a flower, and there is no reason for it, but then again, does there need to be one?
Usually, it is San Lang who brings home presents, but Xie Lian likes to return the favour when he finds something that reminds him of his husband. And how could this not do so, when the craftsmanship is fine, the metal gleaming and the gems sparkling softly?
It would shine so brightly against San Lang’s dark locks, especially after Xie Lian tucked it there himself.
The store owner does not seem to recognise Xie Lian, not even when he comes close and trails his fingertips down the comb, feeling for imperfections, and after spending decades here, it’s a little strange and yet a welcome change in pace.
How nice, Xie Lian thinks to himself, picking up the trinket, to be treated as just another customer.
“Well, are you going to buy it? Staring at it won’t make me any money”, the owner of the stall complains as if he had sensed Xie Lian’s thoughts; it makes him chuckle despite himself. He cannot let San Lang know about the ghost’s tone later, lest his husband do something rash.
“Yes, yes”, he acquiesces, still slightly amused as he rummages around for money, fingers plucking coin after coin from the folds of his clothes until the ghost in front of him loses her frown. It is more than expected, definitely more than San Lang would ever pay for it, but Xie Lian doesn’t mind it much. After all, spoiling San Lag is the best thing he could imagine spending money on.
He clasps the comb in his hand for a moment – it is quite heavy, the crisp air making it cool to his touch – before stuffing it inside his sleeve, instead of carrying it around.
It will be a nice surprise, Xie Lian thinks, smiling to himself as he thanks the seller and turns to leave. Maybe he will leave it on San Lang’s pillow tonight when they are getting ready for bed, or just ask San Lang if he can brush his hair tomorrow morning, and fasten it with the comb.
Either way, a surprise, and Xie Lian knows his San Lang well enough to imagine how his eye will sparkle with affection, how he will touch strong, capable fingers to the comb and how he will kiss Xie Lian afterwards to thank him for the gift.
What more could he ask for?
There is still something in the air, under his feet, that feels strange, but Xie Lian doesn’t pay it any more attention, his steps sure and steady as they bring him to their meeting place.
He is still a little early, but he has never minded waiting for San Lang; in some way, it feels appropriate to do so sometimes, after San Lang has spent almost a millennium waiting for him.
So, when Xie Lian reaches the square, he settles in a corner in order not to disturb the flow of passersby, and watches.
Here, too, there are a few new stalls, the paint of one of the houses peeling, although Xie Lian had been certain that there was talk of fixing it not too long ago.
He truly has to start paying attention more, Xie Lian decides, all but blushing; it will not do to walk around with his head in the clouds all the time, if it means he cannot even recognise Ghost City anymore.
At least now, he tries to commit the changes to memory, grateful when for once, none of the citizens try to approach him to ask him to try a new speciality, to ask for his opinion on a dispute, or to give their chengzhu a message.
It’s peaceful like it hasn’t been in a while during his outings, and Xie Lian makes the most of it.
Delights in the twinkle of the lights, the smell of food he is afraid to name, the bustle that has become so ingrained in his soul that he cannot imagine a life without it.
And then, there is a flash of crimson in the corner of his eye, and Xie Lian turns, heart overflowing at just the sight of San Lang in the crowd.
Ghost City’s inhabitants are giving him more room than he would need, like he is diverting a stream with every stride of his long legs, and Xie Lian smiles; it’s like seeing San Lang for the first time somehow, untamed and beautiful in his boldness.
He would marry him all over again, if he could.
“San Lang!”, Xie Lian calls out when his husband doesn’t spot him right away, but the noise of the crowd must be too much, because although San Lang’s head jerks, he does not turn around.
Perhaps the day has taken more out of him than expected; if so, then Xie Lian will have to make it up to him this evening.
A long bath, maybe, so he can wash San Lang’s hair for him, knead the tension from his shoulders, feed him grapes in between stories and kisses and gentle touches.
A treat for San Lang, but just as much for him.
Again, Xie Lian calls out his name, but when there is no reaction, he runs after him instead, grabbing his shoulder with a fond smile on his lips.
A bath it is, he decides, maybe even a proper massage afterwards, if only because he likes how boneless San Lang goes under his hands if he only lets himself, how he will sometimes drift off to sleep before Xie Lian has finished.
“Really, San Lang”, he starts, chuckling as his husband’s body tenses under his fingers, “Did you not hear me call for you?”
And San Lang whips around, dark hair flying, and the force of his movement is enough to force Xie Lian to drop his hand.
His eye is wide, lips falling open at the sight of Xie Lian, and there is something wrong, Xie Lian knows it within one beat of his heart.
Shock is etched into every of his husband’s features, his pale skin almost translucent with it, as he stares at Xie Lian like he’s a spectre, a taunt, an impossibility.
“What’s wrong?”, Xie Lian asks, heart seizing up in his chest as he scans San Lang for wounds, for curse marks. His fingers have gone cold, fear coating his tongue, and he will fix this, whatever it is that has his husband look like this. “Tell me what happened.”
For a moment, nothing changes, and it is like the world has fallen away, leaving just the two of them, because San Lang is hurt or scared or both, and Xie Lian aches with it.
Once more, he reaches for him, trying to ground himself, but San Lang flinches away from his touch like it burns him, eye widening further.
“San Lang…”, he tries again, but there is still no reaction, no spark returning to his frozen form. “Beloved, you’re scaring me. Say something.”
There is a jolt, almost violent in nature, that runs through the whole of San Lang’s body, and then, suddenly, an iron grip on Xie Lian’s wrist by which he is dragged forward, the crowd parting for them like they did before, as San Lang rushes them down the street at a breakneck speed.
Xie Lian’s feet are hardly able to keep up with the pace, and every other time when they were fleeing, San Lang would just pick him up, wrap him in strong, steady arms and keep him safe.
Now, however, Xie Lian is left stumbling after his husband, and it might scare him more than anything else; the frenzy of it, the way the bones of his wrist grind together under San Lang’s grip, how there is nothing of the warmth, the care, the love he associates with his husband in the way he is touching him now.
Whatever it is that has scared San Lang like this, it must be beyond his imagination, beyond anything they have ever faced, and Xie Lian feels dread pool in his stomach, cold and all-encompassing.
Finally, they come to a stop in a deserted part of the city, surrounded by crumbling walls and filth; San Lang whips around and there is a fury lighting up his eye that Xie Lian has never seen before.
“What are you?”, he sneers, loathing laced in his voice, hardening it to something almost unrecognisable.
For a moment, Xie Lian thinks he is talking to someone else, someone hiding in the shadows, but there is no one there.
“What do you mean?”, he asks back, voice trembling with the shock, the fear of it. “You know me. Your husband. Your Xie Lian. You know me.”
It comes out a plea, almost a sob; whatever it is that has confused San Lang like this, Xie Lian wants to wipe it away, wash it off with gentle hands and even gentler kisses, wants to cradle San Lang’s face in his hands until he is looking like himself again.
Until he is looking at Xie Lian again like he is supposed to.
But San Lang only scoffs, his grip around Xie Lian’s wrist tightening until it hurts; his gaze is cold, hateful in a way Xie Lian has never seen it, and to have it rest upon him is a torture Xie Lian does not know how to withstand.
A hundred swords have hurt less than this.
“Stop your pretence”, San Lang orders harshly, but there is a tremor to his voice now, like he is holding something back that is threatening to swallow him whole. “I do not know where you found out about my… affinity for him, but if you do not remove his face this instant and show me what you are, I will rip it off you. You have no right to wear it. To defile him like this.”
He’s shaking with rage, barely restraint, and at first, his words make no sense to Xie Lian, even if they cut him to the bone nonetheless.
“It’s my face”, he insists, desperation dripping from his lips. “San Lang, what is wrong? You must remember me. Remember us.”
“I remember Your Highness the Crown Prince”, San Lang hisses, uses his hand to pull Xie Lian a little closer, but instead of going willingly, Xie Lian shrinks back now, unsure what to do, how to act. “And if I find out that you have harmed him in any way, you will regret the very fact of your existence.”
It makes no sense, none of it, yet peering up at his husband, Xie Lian suddenly recognises the pain in his expression, lurking just underneath the rage, and even if he can’t make sense of it, maybe he can at least soothe that.
“I’ve not been harmed”, he says, tries to keep his voice as calm, as soft as possible, blinking away the threat of tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Anything, he could lose, anything but this. “I’m here. I don’t know what has happened to you, but if you don’t believe me, ask me anything you want. It’s me, I swear it is.”
It is obvious that San Lang doesn’t believe a word he is saying, the sardonic quirk of his eyebrow easy to read, and Xie Lian does not know what to do, what to say, to make this better, so instead of waiting for an answer, he starts talking, words spilling from his lips so his tears won’t.
“When you were a child, back in Xianle, I caught you mid-fall. It almost ruined the procession, but I never regretted it once”, he says, and San Lang’s eye widens, shock so apparent Xie Lian can see it through the forming tears. “I lost an earring that day, and you are wearing the pearl of it. Right here. Mu Qing almost went mad searching for it, and then went even madder when he found it.”
Never have his hands trembled like this when touching San Lang, and yet they do now, as Xie Lian reaches up to brush his fingertip against the bead fastened to the braid in San Lang’s hair. It’s cool, familiar, and San Lang jerks back like he has been burned.
Xie Lian bites back a sob.
“You left flowers at my altar after my ascension, and I… they were the most beautiful of all, because San Lang had put them there. I gave you an umbrella because it rained that day, and you kept it. You followed me everywhere, in the army, when I was driven insane with the flower spirits’ poison, after I fell. You died for me again, as Wuming, when I failed to curse Yong-an. You watched me die, back in that temple, when… you became a wrath for me.”
Everything he says is pain, and there is no stopping the tears now, because Xie Lian can see the same ache reflected back on San Lang’s face, etched deep into the black of his eye, the curve of his parted lips.
His grip has loosened because his whole body is shaking violently, and it might be reckless, but Xie Lian turns his hand in his, laces their fingers together. Trusts San Lang, because he has never done anything but that; loves him, because he has forgotten how to it felt not to do so.
“And you found me again”, he continues, stumbling over his words, but San Lang has not interrupted him, has not pulled his hand away, and that is all that matters. “In the mountains. You shielded me from the rain. And you came to Puqi Shrine with me and ate my food, no matter how revolting it was. You taught me how to throw dice, and you went after He Xuan with me, and you came with me to Mount Tonglu when I needed you most. You… you loved me when no one else could, and you showed me that I could love when I had forgotten how.”
There are tears carving their way down his face, but Xie Lian hardly notices them, because the hatred has seeped out of San Lang’s gaze, replaced by shock and something softer, something Xie Lian is much more familiar with.
“Even if you don’t remember me, I remember you, San Lang”, he says, and this time, he steps closer of his own volition. “I love you. Husband.”
San Lang takes in a breath at the word, sudden and sharp; his fingers twitch against Xie Lian’s like he isn’t sure if to grasp them or to pull away from their touch.
“I have done half of what you say”, he tells Xie Lian slowly, voice unsteady. “I have left Your Highness flowers, thousands of them. I have died for him, twice. I watched him be butchered, and I have suffered with the memory every day since then. I have not… found Your Highness again, no matter how much I have searched for him.”
Again, a shaky breath, sucked between lips Xie Lian knows better than his own; San Lang is keeping his composure, but only barely, and Xie Lian wants nothing but to embrace him, pull his head down to rest against his chest, stroke San Lang’s hair until he is convinced that they have found each other.
He does neither, only watches, heart breaking, as San Lang swallows heavily, like it hurts him.
“Are you truly him?”
The words sound like a sob, even though they are enunciated clearly, and Xie Lian doesn’t know what to do but nod.
Arms wrap around him within an instant, and he is pulled forward, crushed against a familiar chest, cheek against an unbeating heart, and the relief of it is immeasurable, melts Xie Lian into San Lang’s embrace until he feels like himself again.
The body before him is still shaking, wrecked with suppressed sobs, and Xie Lian wraps his own arms around San Lang’s waist, burrows his face into the folds of his tunic, tears seeping into the fabric as he breathes in San Lang’s scent.
He has only seen, hugged his husband this morning, and yet it feels like it has been an eternity since he has found his peace in San Lang’s arms, feels like coming home after an endless journey.
Even if this San Lang is not yet his.
They stay wrapped in each other for so long that Xie Lian forgets about time itself, until San Lang’s trembling subsides, until Xie Lian can draw a breath without feeling like it might choke him.
“Your Highness”, San Lang’s voice finally rumbles, and it is soft again, familiar, and yet sounds like a long-distant memory. The man he loves, before he has known how to love him.
“Call me gege”, Xie Lian requests, before he can think better of it. “You… you will do so in the future.”
Again, a soft gasp, and Xie Lian catches himself smiling.
Slowly, gently, he pushes himself back, so he can look up at San Lang’s face, his eye red-rimmed and brimming with more emotion than Xie Lian would know how to hold himself.
“Gege, then”, San Lang amends, and it sounds, feels right, heals any cracks that might have been left in Xie Lian’s heart. “Did you mean it? In the future, you will – “
He cannot bring himself to say it, the word faltering on his lips, and Xie Lian understands his meaning still, knows that back then, San Lang would not have considered it a possibility, no matter how much he might have dreamt of it.
“I will love you, yes”, he answers easily, smiling up at San Lang. “I love you now. I have loved you for decades. I will love you endlessly.”
There is no reaction, like San Lang has been frozen in place by his words, his gaze dazed and clouded, and Xie Lian can’t help but remember the half-smile on his lips back in the Cave of Ten Thousand Gods, when San Lang had been so certain he would be rejected.
How wrong he was back then; how wrong he might be in the future.
“Let me prove it to you”, Xie Lian says, and there are no tremors in his hands left as he reaches up to cradle San Lang’s face between them; this, he knows; this, he has done a thousand times.
And he kisses his husband-to-be on his parted, waiting lips, kisses him with all the love he feels for him, all the care, the devotion, the trust.
It takes a moment, but then San Lang’s arms are back around his waist, pulling him so close they might melt into one, as he kisses Xie Lian back.
It’s desperate, brimming with pent-up emotion, and this San Lang has not yet had time to find their rhythm, but Xie Lian could not ask for more.
He gives as much as he gets, parts his lips willingly and lets San Lang taste him, drink the sounds he is pulling from him right from the source, and it’s everything, both new and familiar.
San Lang’s hand slides from his waist to tangle in his hair, and Xie Lian gasps into him, shares his breath like they have done a million times before, and hopes it will sustain San Lang for long enough.
Because they do part, have to, even if it is only once Xie Lian’s lips have been kissed swollen, his hair mussed, his chest heaving.
“Gege”, San Lang mutters when their lips are only brushing, and Xie Lian is consumed by the love he has for him, the desperate, all-encompassing devotion.
“I will have to leave again”, he says and every word of it hurts, because he knows that San Lang will ache for him, and because San Lang’s pain has been his own for so long now.
“I know.”
San Lang pulls back, always the stronger one between the two of them, and he looks like a lamb being led to slaughter, looks like he has received his heart’s truest desire.
“Go back to me”, he says, even as his fingers twitch against Xie Lian’s waist, not wanting to let go. “I am sure that in the future, I miss you already.”
A smile that does not quite reach his eye, and Xie Lian loves him, loves him, loves him.
“I do not know how long you will have to wait for me”, he rushes out, hand fumbling inside his sleeve, “but remember that you will find me again. Remember that I will love you. That no matter what, I will always love you.”
His clumsy fingers find what they are looking for, and he pushes up to his tiptoes so he can gently fasten the silver comb into San Lang’s night-dark hair; it looks as fetching there as he knew it would.
“If you ever doubt, look at it. I bought it for the only man I will ever love. My husband. You.” He presses a soft, short kiss to San Lang’s lips; it is a farewell gift for now. “No matter where I am in this world, and even if I don’t know it yet, I am waiting for you. I’ve waited for you my whole life. Wait for me, too.”
A tear spills from San Lang’s eye, and although he kissed him goodbye before, Xie Lian kisses it off his cheek before San Lang can wipe it away.
“I promise”, San Lang answers, finality in his voice, and Xie Lian can feel the words more than he can hear them. “I will find you again, no matter how long it takes.”
The hand holding his is cool to the touch, cradling Xie Lian’s fingers like they are made from porcelain and silk, as he leads them through the forest.
There is the sound of rain falling against the umbrella his mysterious suitor is holding over them, soft and almost soothing, and Xie Lian thinks that he should be scared by this, and yet can’t find it in himself to be so.
A fleeting brush of a thumb across his knuckles, almost familiar, and he looks up, even though he knows that the veil is hiding the world as well as the man next to him, turning everything plush and blood-red.
Yet, there is a slit within the fabric, and with the next step, the veil moves just enough; there is a crimson collar, half-hiding a long, pale neck, dark hair flowing to spill across strong shoulders.
Xie Lian cannot make out a face, even though he wishes he could with a fervour that surprises him, but just before the fabric envelops the world once more, he spots a silver comb within the stranger’s locks, a garnet flower sparkling in the centre of it.
A pretty thing.
Something, Xie Lian catches himself thinking, he might have picked out himself, if he only had someone to gift it to.