Crown Prince and Ghost King

Chapter 8

Not two faces of the same coin, rather two pages of the same book, able to meet in the middle. If Xie Lian was the flower, the beautiful, fragrant flower as white as his soul and a symbol of death, then Hua Cheng was the rain, a crimson rain, that smelled of iron and was a symbol of life.

As a god, Xie Lian had a dark past to taint the purity of the flower. As a ghost, Hua Cheng hid bright days to lighten the corruption of the blood.

Alone, they weren't perfect. Together... together they couldn't be more so.

In the kind one there was evil, and in the evil one there was kindness. Together, they created a black and white balance.

Tired, Xie Lian smiled softly when Hua Cheng's arms enveloped him, and he twined their legs together. Then, asking for no more than the lulling temptation of sleep, he fell into a deep slumber.

If there was one thing Hua Cheng would never grow tired of, it was gazing upon His Highness while he was still asleep. When awake, Xie Lian had a beautiful energy flowing through him, eyes glittering with so many emotions and lips curved in small but genuine smiles. It was like he was shining, glowing with heavenly light even before his ascension, a thin sheen of it never leaving his figure. He was gentle, and kind, but also so strong.

While asleep, however, there was an unseen softness to his features, never so relaxed in the hours of waking. He was peaceful, unbothered by the world, and Hua Cheng couldn't help but brush away some strands of hair from his face. Even though he loved to see Xie Lian unraveled and disheveled under his touch, cheeks flushed and hair strewn about like rivers of flowing wood, he also delighted in the privilege he had of watching his beloved with his guard down, just placidly asleep.

Dreaming, maybe, Xie Lian hummed something in his sleep and scooted a bit closer, placing an arm on Hua Cheng's chest as he did so.

Too much, Xie Lian said... in reality, it was Xie Lian himself that was too much for Hua Cheng, not the opposite. To that day, the Ghost King was still adamant in being his most devoted believer, but he still had bad days, days in which he thought His Highness deserved someone better, someone stronger, someone more beautiful.

Xie Lian never let him bask in those sulking thoughts.

Instead, he would cup his face with his hands and kiss him, not with passion but with fondness, a devotion he should just receive and not give. He would raise his fingers to his eye-patch, brush them against the black fabric covering the empty eye socket, and then untie the string holding it up. He would place light, fluttering kisses to his sunken eyelid, and refuse to put the eye-patch back until Hua Cheng stopped commiserating himself.

«What did I do to deserve your love, my Highness?», he whispered.

«You're just you».

Staggered, Hua Cheng breathed out a small gasp, a lump quickly forming in his throat. He didn't realize Xie Lian was awake, but he was still half-asleep, expression groggy and voice just barely over a murmur. He hugged him, now unafraid of waking his beloved, and pressed him close to his chest: «This lowly one cannot be enough for Your Highness», he shook his head.

He felt Xie Lian smile against his skin, the movement of his lips brushing it.

«My San Lang is not enough, that's right», Xie Lian said, relishing in the feeling of his husband hugging him so tight. «My San Lang is too much, my heart can't take so much love».

Flustered, again, Hua Cheng replied with a low whine, and Xie Lian laughed heartily: «However, my San Lang should get out of bed and go practice calligraphy», he said. He didn't forget, after all, that he silently promised him more lessons for his reckless behavior.