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( 山无陵，江水为竭。冬雷震震夏雨雪，天地合，乃敢与君绝。 )
[ there were two possible interpretations of the promises that hua cheng had made to xie lian following their battle with jun wu, that he would come back and that he would never leave his highness' side.
one: the metaphorical—that hua cheng would always return, no matter what happened; that even in the darkness hua cheng could always follow xie lian's light, the red strings on his finger, and find himself right back in his rightful place beside xie lian.
two: the literal—that hua cheng was never going to let xie lian do anything alone ever again, if he could help it.
as it turns out, hua cheng meant both of them.
after their reunion at the reconstructed shrine on mount taicang, there had been plenty of work to do—between xie lian's duties to the upper court (attended by hua cheng much to the displeasure of all the other heavenly officials, who grumbled to his back and said not a word to his face) and hua cheng's return to ghost city to put things back in order after a long absence (contrastingly celebrated by the ghosts there, who followed them and cackled things like "wahaha, look, granduncle has returned!" only to promptly shut their mouths as soon as hua cheng turned his head), it seemed that they would never run out of tasks.
at first, hua cheng didn't mind. there was so much work to do that it kept both of them busy, and besides—he'd spent eight hundred years in xie lian's orbit, circling him but never touching. at least now, they share the sleeping mat in the mount taicang house; at least now, hua cheng can put his arm around xie lian, or kiss him without making the excuse of transferring spiritual power.
if he wants more, well. that's all right. after eight hundred years, what's the problem with waiting just a little longer?
but here in paradise manor, after the day's work is done, after they've eaten and retired to their bedroom—hua cheng's bedroom, but xie lian's too, in the way that everything of hua cheng's is also xie lian's—hua cheng stands in the doorway and watches xie lian where he's sitting at a writing desk, his slim fingers guiding a calligraphy brush over fine paper, and loves him with a ferocity that makes him ache.
he lifts a finger and a silver butterfly flits across the room, its wings silent in the moonlight coming in through the windows. it lands on xie lian's shoulder and brushes its gossamer wings against his cheek. ]
Gege. [ hua cheng crosses the room to follow it, rests his hands on the back of xie lian's chair and leans over him. he admires the line of xie lian's throat where it curves into his shoulder, the skin now unbroken by the cursed shackle.
absolutely without shame—what's a little lost face, after all, when weighed against this kind of love?—hua cheng says, ] Aren't you coming to bed? It's so lonely without you, so cold~
one: the metaphorical—that hua cheng would always return, no matter what happened; that even in the darkness hua cheng could always follow xie lian's light, the red strings on his finger, and find himself right back in his rightful place beside xie lian.
two: the literal—that hua cheng was never going to let xie lian do anything alone ever again, if he could help it.
as it turns out, hua cheng meant both of them.
after their reunion at the reconstructed shrine on mount taicang, there had been plenty of work to do—between xie lian's duties to the upper court (attended by hua cheng much to the displeasure of all the other heavenly officials, who grumbled to his back and said not a word to his face) and hua cheng's return to ghost city to put things back in order after a long absence (contrastingly celebrated by the ghosts there, who followed them and cackled things like "wahaha, look, granduncle has returned!" only to promptly shut their mouths as soon as hua cheng turned his head), it seemed that they would never run out of tasks.
at first, hua cheng didn't mind. there was so much work to do that it kept both of them busy, and besides—he'd spent eight hundred years in xie lian's orbit, circling him but never touching. at least now, they share the sleeping mat in the mount taicang house; at least now, hua cheng can put his arm around xie lian, or kiss him without making the excuse of transferring spiritual power.
if he wants more, well. that's all right. after eight hundred years, what's the problem with waiting just a little longer?
but here in paradise manor, after the day's work is done, after they've eaten and retired to their bedroom—hua cheng's bedroom, but xie lian's too, in the way that everything of hua cheng's is also xie lian's—hua cheng stands in the doorway and watches xie lian where he's sitting at a writing desk, his slim fingers guiding a calligraphy brush over fine paper, and loves him with a ferocity that makes him ache.
he lifts a finger and a silver butterfly flits across the room, its wings silent in the moonlight coming in through the windows. it lands on xie lian's shoulder and brushes its gossamer wings against his cheek. ]
Gege. [ hua cheng crosses the room to follow it, rests his hands on the back of xie lian's chair and leans over him. he admires the line of xie lian's throat where it curves into his shoulder, the skin now unbroken by the cursed shackle.
absolutely without shame—what's a little lost face, after all, when weighed against this kind of love?—hua cheng says, ] Aren't you coming to bed? It's so lonely without you, so cold~