Crimson and Clover

The Ghost Holds a Wedding - Part 4

Whatever it is you're doing, keep doing it , He Xuan tells Xie Lian a few days – weeks? Months? Some immeasurable amount of time that flows and meanders in the ghost realm as Hua Cheng wants it to. At least he's no longer insufferable.

Xie Lian doesn't have to ask who He Xuan has in mind. He only ever speaks like that about San Lang, and it's taken Xie Lian a while to learn to read the nuances of his voice and see beyond the superficial derision. He smiles now at that comment, unexpected as it always is. He Xuan never announces himself and neither does he say goodbye; he speaks to Xie Lian and vanishes soon after that.

It's more than Xie Lian has expected of him.

I can only assume he was bored, he suggests now, looking down at his lap. San Lang is dozing off, his head pillowed on Xie Lian's legs and his arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

His expression is serene in sleep, calmer than anything Xie Lian has seen on him when he's awake.

Restless, more like, He Xuan snorts. It's such an unusual sound for him, one of a wave breaking against the shore. Tormenting everyone. Did he tell you about the temple he built for you?

Xie Lian smiles as he runs his fingers through San Lang's hair over and over again. It's become an addiction of his, one he's welcomed happily. San Lang doesn't protest either, and the sound of his happy humming speaks more than any word ever could.

Yes, he did, he tells He Xuan. As a matter of fact, we're at the temple right now.

A calligraphy lesson gone astray left them on the cold stone floor, with paper and brushes strewn all around them and San Lang sleeping like a contented cat. The first time he showed Xie Lian the temple he had built for him, it left Xie Lian breathless, amazed and more than just slightly embarrassed. It was one thing to know of San Lang's undying faith and devotion, and something else entirely to witness a monument of it, perpetually towering over Ghost City.

Then San Lang kissed his hands and his wrists and didn't stop until Xie Lian forgot all about the embarrassment.

Ah. I don't want to know, He Xuan quickly says and then he's gone before Xie Lian even gets the chance to correct his assumptions. And so he follows the trail of San Lang's tattoo instead, its twisting turns and sharp edges that speak a story he can't read. He could simply ask but there's no reason for it. San Lang will tell him sooner or later, when he's ready to share what lies buried beneath the passage of time.

"Your Highness?"

He looks up – it's Yin Yu, standing stiff and proper on the threshold. He's pushed the mask away as he always does when it's just the three of them. There's sadness in his eyes and sorrowful detachment on his face, and Xie Lian makes sure to only ever greet him with a smile and soft words.

"Good afternoon," he says. "What can I help you with?"

Yin Yu's eyes flick down to sleeping San Lang. The grimace on his face is that of resignation.

"There's a... situation in the Gambler's Den. We've delayed as much as we could, but Chengzhu's presence is required."

"Ah, that." San Lang offhandedly mentioned something about a stray god who came to the Gambler's Den and demanded an audience. "He knows about that."

"The croupiers say the god's becoming... difficult to contain."

For a moment, Xie Lian considers offering his assistance. San Lang's subjects have accepted him, some of them even like him – or so he optimistically hopes – but there's a difference between lending a helping hand at San Lang's request and actually doing something out of his volition.