Crimson and Clover

No Paths Are Bound - Part 1

Shrines and temples of the Martial God Heavenly Emperor Jun Wu are innumerable—and they are all burning.

There's no darkness that night, no stars or moon; only the sickly orange hue of an inferno impossible to contain. No wails or prayers can stop the flames; come morning, grey and sunless, only scorched husks remain of what used to be splendour incomparable.

Come morning, an impenetrable barrier rises on the border between realms, and cuts off the Ghost Realm from the world. Come morning, San Lang slides into bed without a sound, but Xie Lian stirs awake despite his efforts. He pulls his husband into his arms. San Lang doesn't waste any time either – he snakes an arm around Xie Lian's waist and buries his face in his hair.

"Mmm," Xie Lian murmurs without opening his eyes. Maybe the world will disappear if he keeps them closed, leaving only the bed and the two of them in it. That wouldn't be so bad. "You smell of smoke."

San Lang huffs, just as quiet. "Sorry, gege. It was... a long night."

Xie Lian remembers nothing of it except for the vague feeling of San Lang's side of the bed being empty. He was too tired to worry. The anguish he felt upon reaching out and finding no hand to grasp was a mellow shadow of itself, drowned under the waves of exhaustion. He remembers the fact of its existence rather than experiencing it—and maybe that's for the best. An abyss lies at the bottom of his heart, and he dreads the horrors that would come out of it if anything happened to San Lang.

But now he feels his husband's fingers ghosting across his stomach, the touch as light as the wings of his butterflies, and reminds himself that San Lang is here with him, safe and sound. He takes that hand, cool fingers slotting seamlessly between his own. Even so small a thing is enough to chase the memories of emptiness away. He nuzzles closer, nose filled with the smell of smoke clinging to nothingness. San Lang lets him; and it tells of his state of mind that he hasn't even undressed and just stays in bed like this, in his exquisite red robes, boots, and the entire set of jewellery. Distantly, Xie Lian promises himself to remember to get the mud out of the sheets later.

But later is a distant concept – one that calls to acknowledging the existence of the world outside and every implication of that fact – and he's too tired for that. His thoughts are muddled, swirling aimlessly in his head while he focuses on the feel of San Lang's arms around him and the steady chest under his cheek. With San Lang, darkness is a friend; with San Lang, light holds no threat.

With San Lang, Xie Lian thinks he can find again the strength centuries have ripped from him. And maybe this is what he needed all these years – the awareness of another person by his side no matter the circumstances and regardless of the storm the world throws at him. The concept of one person made tangible, and all the more precious because being there just for him. San Lang's quiet, patient devotion and a freely given fragile heart ground him—and Xie Lian is more than happy that he's no longer adrift.

Finally, after a long night apart, his husband is back at his side. Xie Lian lets himself doze off again. Safety is a privilege; he relishes in it and holds it close to his heart.

Truly, his mother would have liked San Lang.

When he wakes up, the light coming through the windows has this orange tint he's learnt to associate with what passes for daytime in Ghost City. San Lang is still with him, gently running his fingers through his hair like he's done already so many times and will do many, many times more in the future. This is what Xie Lian hopes for—this is what he shall make happen even if he has to wrangle the entirety of the three realms into obedience.

He stretches, feels his muscles tighten pleasantly, and then burrows his face into San Lang's neck.

"Gege." He doesn't only hear it—he feels the vibrations accompanying the sound. They wash over him like a lullaby. "Are you awake yet?"