For Xie Lian, sleep had almost always been a constant. Even when he didn't have food, or water, or shelter, he could sleep anywhere. Under the open sky, or under a roof, with a full or empty stomach—it made no different to him. Sometimes, a lot of the time, sleep was much preferable to waking, which brought with it awareness and thought and never-ending loneliness, and guilt, and many other unpleasant things. Nightmares were expected, mostly, but not as ever-present.
Right now, he's pretty sure he would much rather be asleep than awake, although he is a bit muddled on the why.
"Hey. I told you. Don't fucking go to sleep." The voice is rude, and perhaps it is for that reason that Xie Lian manages to blink open his eyes with great difficulty. He is used to rude people. Perhaps he had been unconsciously conditioned to listen to them, by virtue of proximity and longitude. But when he finally manages to make the face above him swim into focus, he can see that it isn't Feng Xin, or even Mu Qing (why would it be them? Stupid, stupid. You would think that after 800 years, he would remember).
"Black Water Sinking Ships?" He attempts to get up, but some unseen weight keeps him down. It is so, so dark around them, the kind of dark that Xie Lian doesn't like any longer, tries to actively avoid. Something is wrong. "What happened?"
He Xuan's eyeroll is more sound than visual, the darkness around them so thick. "If you insist on repeating this process every time, you should just ditch the title. Makes it go faster." His face is swimming in and out of focus, and Xie Lian's thoughts swim with it, struggling to comprehend.
"Process?" and then, because it does seem familiar: "Did I already ask you that?"
"Like three times, but who is keeping count, right?" Xie Lian attempts to get up again, because something is wrong, something is really wrong, but he can't remember what it is. And He Xuan is here but not Hua Cheng, and that's wrong too but in a different way, a deeper way, like the way the dark around them is wrong. The way his body is wrong, because—
"What happened to my spiritual energy?" he asks, panic edging his voice. It's wrong in such a familiar way. His spiritual energy is gone like it has been gone for most of his existence, and it's a wonder how quickly he got used to having it back, that now that it was gone it could feel so disturbing. Something heavy is holding him down, and if he squints he can see the shape of something large pinning him to the floor, and if he tries to sense it he—
"Don't do that," He Xuan snaps and plants his hand on Xie Lian's shoulder, shoving him back down. "Stop panicking, you're going to make yourself sick." His tone is biting, and his hand should have felt invasive and overpowering on his shoulder, but it somehow—doesn't.
Xie Lian attempts to take in a deep breath, and then another smaller one when he finds that just aggravates his lungs. "What… happened…"
"Try to retain it this time, will you? We are in a cave. You dragged me here for some gods-forsaken reason, babbling on and on about a forgotten library of some dead, rotten king. The asshole is off doing something evil, I wasn't listening. The dead, rotten king had some not so dead, but still rotten, traps. Like idiots, we got caught in one. There was a collapse. And I keep telling you not to fucking move because you have a small mound of stones directly crushing your lower body." The explanation is succinct and cynical and still somehow too much for Xie Lian's muddled brain, who latches onto the most important thing.
"San Lang isn't here?"
"No. And before you ask, the collapse also triggered some sort of failsafe, sealing our spiritual energies, although I did manage to send him our location just before we cut off. So just fucking stay awake until he gets here."
"It's good," he feels the need to explain, "that San Lang isn't here. He would be upset to be without his power."
"I think he would be more upset that you currently have the concussion of a lifetime, but alright. Sure, whatever." He Xuan's hand leaves his shoulder and for a moment Xie Lian feels dizzy even while he's lying down, unmoored in the darkness around him. It's like… It's like… Oh. It's like the coffin. It's a little bit funny, that he almost forgot.
He Xuan's hand then reappears on his forehead, the touch kind, practiced. He Xuan had been an older brother in a different life. Perhaps it's the kind of muscle memory that never really goes away.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" it comes out slurred, but Xie Lian takes it as a success that he managed to say anything at all. His throat feels like he has swollen the entire desert around Banyue kingdom. He is no stranger to thirst, but this feels worse, and more painful. In the past, he would be thirsty, but there would be no one to talk to, and so the thirst was manageable, his throat allowed rest. Now, his days are so full of companionship he sometimes feels almost drunk with it.
"Why do you think? Because of that asshole." Xie Lian holds many assholes in his repertoire of acquaintances, but there can be only one person He Xuan would talk about in that tone of voice. Luckily for both of them, it is Xie Lian's favorite one.
"Oh," and he would nod if he wasn't quite sure that would definitely make him throw up everything that was currently moving about dangerously in his stomach, "yes, that makes sense."
A pause. "Does it." It comes out so dry it doesn't even sound like a question. Xie Lian does nothing but blink up at him. He Xuan's earrings are very dangly, he thinks. And shiny, too. Do they ever get caught in his robes? Mu Qing had once barred him from wearing pointy earrings after he had ripped a hole in one of his most expensive sets of clothes. Idly, he wonders if the ban still holds. Could Mu Qing still enforce it?
He is torn away from his musings about what kind of earrings he should try on, and if Mu Qing would try to rip them out of his ears, when He Xuan sighs and taps him none too gently on the forehead. "Oi. I dread to ask, but what makes sense?"
Oh. "Oh," Xie Lian says, still staring up at him. "Me being hurt would make San Lang sad. You're San Lang's friend, and you don't want him to be sad. So. It makes sense."
He Xuan starts coughing so loudly and so violently that for a second Xie Lian loses track of reality, and thinks it was He Xuan who got buried under what feels like half a mountain, and not Xie Lian. It's only as he tries to get up, alarmed, that the pain shoots through his body and reminds him why that would be a terrible idea. A grunt of pain must escape him, because He Xuan pushes him down again. This time, he leaves his hand on his shoulder, a constant reminder to "stay the fuck down, dianxia, fucking idiot."
"You sounded like you were in pain. Are you sure you weren't hurt in the collapse?"
"It really is very galling to be fretted upon by a man who is bleeding half of his intestines unto the floor."
Xie Lian blinks, the drag of his eyelids almost grating against his skin. "Am I really?" Out of morbid curiosity he tries to look down at himself, to see if he can see it, but it's too dark. It's been a long time since he saw his own internal organs. Would they still look the same? It feels right, that they should have changed as much as the rest of him had. San Lang had come along and burrowed deep, deep into Xie Lian, after all. Maybe the rest of him had to change to accommodate him. He likes the thought of it.
"Are you—No, you weirdo." He Xuan's hand pushes insistently at his shoulder until he acquises and lies back down. "I swear, taking care of you is worse than—" he stops, doesn't elaborate. Xie Lian is too tired to try to think of who he could be worse than. There are a lot of people on that list.
"Sorry," he says instead, because that's the one thing he can always fall back on, even when tired and in pain.
"And stop apologising," He Xuan says. "It's annoying."
Oh, it was? Xie Lian hadn't known. "Sorry," he says again, and then frowns. "Ah, sorry. Wait, no, sorry for that—" He Xuan's other hand comes to cover his mouth, more gentle than Xie Lian had expected.
"Just—Just be quiet," He Xuan says. He sounds tired. "Three times," he had said earlier. They had gone through this three times already. Xie Lian doesn't remember. He doesn't remember anything to do with this cave. But he doesn't like the idea of being a burden, dislikes even more the idea of being a burden and not remembering it. He vows to remember this time.
They pass the time in silence. Xie Lian doesn't know He Xuan well, and it's a bit awkward, knowing a person's worst moments but not, say, their favorite tea snack. Xie Lian's is a bowl of sunflower seeds. San Lang's is dried plums. He should ask He Xuan's his but He Xuan told him to be quiet, and he doesn't want to make the tired look in his eyes worse. It reminds him of—ha, of Shi Qingxuan's face, sometimes, the look they have when they think no one can see them.
He doesn't want to think of Shi Qingxuan. He closes his eyes, then opens them, because He Xuan is shaking him,. somewhat forcefully. "What?"
"I told you don't go to sleep."
"I—I wasn't. I was just closing my eyes."
"Why?"
Anyone else might not admit it, but Xie Lian has had shame carved out of him a long time ago, and he might as well offer He Xuan his honesty if he can't give him anything else. "Um, I don't like the dark. So."
He Xuan peers down at him, his brow furrowed. "Wouldn't it be just as dark if you had your eyes closed," he says. He keeps doing that, phrasing questions as sentences and sentences as questions. It's confusing, which is probably why he does that. Take the man out of the spy but not the spy out of the man, or something. Xie Lian's head hurts too much to figure it out.
"Um, but if I close my eyes… that's me, doing that, right? My decision. But just regular darkness…" he trails off, losing his trail of thought. A moment later, he remembers, almost as an afterthought: "You know, like the coffin. It was dark, and I couldn't change that. And I was there for a really long time. It was… hard. So I don't like the dark anymore. Only my own."
He Xuan looks at him as if he spoke a different language, so Xie Lian goes through what he just said, just to make sure he didn't. That would be embarrassing. Quickly, he realises the problem. "Oh. You probably don't know about the coffin."
"I don't know about the coffin," He Xuan repeats. He looks as though he's in pain. Or as if he has trouble with his indigestion. Xie Lian really doesn't know him that well, so it's hard to tell. He wishes his husband was here. He would know.
"I was locked in a coffin for a hundred years," he explains. "I think… I don't remember a lot of it very well. But I do remember the dark. You know how when you're in the darkness for a long time, your eyes start adjusting to it, and you can make out shapes? Different shades of black? It was too dark for that in the coffin. There was just… nothing. But when I shut down my eyes, and squeezed, there were bursts of light. Shapes and shadows. I would play games, making up stories about what I imagined I could be seeing with my eyes closed. It was comforting." He stops to cough. His throat feels paper thin, his tongue heavy in his mouth. It reminds him of his time in Banyue.
He Xuan is still staring at him with a strange look in his eyes. Xie Lian doesn't know why, and he almost apologises again, but catches it just in time. No sorrys, he said, even though sometimes Xie Lian thinks that's all his body was made of for a very long time.
"That's. Horrifying," He Xuan finally says blankly, and Xie Lian blinks at him.
"It is?" he asks. "Oh, I suppose. It was very unpleasant. After I got out… It made me forget how to be alive, for a bit. I wouldn't eat or drink or sleep, and every time someone touched me it felt like my skin was going to flay off. I'm glad," he adds, absentmindedly, "that you're here. It feels less like that, now."
"Fuck," He Xuan curses very quietly, and then in a louder voice: "Just. Stop saying fucked up shit for like five minutes."
"Oh, okay," Xie Lian agress, although he didn't know that what he was saying was fucked up shit. He would try to remember now. Would San Lang think it was fucked up too? Ah, of course he would. He was there in the temple, wasn't he? And he had told Xie Lian that was the worst moment in his life, even if Xie Lian didn't consider it as his. Definitely top five, he thinks. Maybe even top three.
The coffin… doesn't even make the top ten, he doesn't think. But maybe San Lang wouldn't think the same, if he knew all of it. Hm, it might be best if he stops talking. He doesn't really know what He Xuan would consider inside the parameters of fucked up, and Xie Lian won't be able to apologise if he messes up. Better to say nothing.
"You killed the bastard who did it, right?" He Xuan's voice cuts into his thoughts.
"Hmm?"
"The bastard who locked you in. You killed him, yes?"
"Ah, no."
"What do you mean no?"
"He didn't know that I was… what I was. He thought I was dead, or close enough to it that it wouldn't matter. He couldn't have known what he was doing," Xie Lian says.
"And that makes it fine?" He Xuan bites out. "Because he didn't know he shouldn't suffer the consequences for his actions?" He is getting heated now, and Xie Lian feels like he misstepped although he isn't sure how.
"He thought I murdered his entire family," he tries to over-correct. "And I guess I inadvertently did. I was just suffering the consequences of my own actions." There, that ought to do it. Xie Lian never blamed Lang Qianqiu for what did, even as his nails filed down to the bone as he tried to scratch the coffin's lid open. Xie Lian's mistake, Xie Lian's atonement. An endless cycle, the story of his life.
He Xuan's fist comes slamming down next to Xie Lian's head and he flinches, even though it hadn't even been close to hitting him. That tiny movement is enough to unbalance the pile of rocks slowly crushing him slowly and a few more come tumbling down. It's heavy, so so heavy, and all thoughts of the coffin and punishments and obligations fly out of Xie Lian's head, pain all that remains. He gasps, choking on it, his lungs unable to expand to their full capacity. He can feel his heart fluttering beneath his ribcage, beating so fast as if to get out, to escape its shell that is now surely going to die, he is dying, he is going to die—
Dying has been a constant spectre in Xie Lian's life. Maybe—Maybe not from the very beginning, his spoilt upbringing, the wealth his family had, both protecting him from this reality. But certainly later, disease and war and genocide. He knows death like an old friend, the kind that comes to visit every so often but never stays. A friend that makes you feel lonely even as they check up on you. He has made peace with the idea of it, that one day his friend will visit and as they get up and prepare to leave, Xie Lian will get up as well and follow them, lonely no more. Had perhaps craved it more than he will ever admit to anyone.
It's different now. Xie Lian's life is so different now, both obviously and in more subtle ways. Obvious in the power he now wields again, the status he has somehow regained, his temples that dot the country. Subtle in the warm breakfast waiting for him every morning, the robes he no longer has to mend, the companionship he no longer struggles to seek.
San Lang, San Lang, he wants to cry out but can't, his airflow restricted, his entire body submerged in mud and dirt and stone. How can he leave him again? When they have only so recently found each other anew? Xie Lian might have spent 800 years on his own, but he didn't even know he was waiting for something until he had it. Hua Cheng had known and still waited, working on making space for Xie Lian in the world that had forgotten him. He can't, he can't, he won't go. He won't follow one friend and leave another. Hua Cheng had laid claim on him before death has ever known his name.
"Breathe, you fucking idiot!" The shout cleaves through all of Xie Lian's panic and he manages to take in a shuddering breath, and then another. The cave swims into focus, and he can see He Xuan kneeling over him, his face twisted into his usual scowl, but more pronounced, sharper. Wait. See?
In his hand, He Xuan is holding a glowing stone. Xie Lian doesn't know what sort of stone it is, but it is beautiful: an iridescent oil slick play of lights across its surface, which somehow extends beyond the stone itself, filling the air around them with light. The sight alone is enough to knock Xie Lian out of his panic attack.
"What…" he mumbles, his tired eyes tracking the moving light across the wall. Now he can see that they are in a small pocket of space that has somehow remained clear of rubble. He Xuan himself looks completely unharmed, although he is dirty with soot and mud. Xie Lian himself, however… yeah, it looks pretty bad.
"A gift," He Xuan says shortly. "I… forgot I had it. Sorry." He says it without any infliction in his voice, but somehow Xie Lian gets the sense he is embarrassed.
"Ah, no worries, no worries," he hastens to say. "It really isn't a big deal. You should put it away, if you're worried about losing it. I will be alright." He smiles, because at least now he knows He Xuan will see it. It's good that he can use more than just his words now to put someone else at ease. He has never been very good with those.
"It's fine. It isn't important."
Xie Lian frowns up at him. "But it's a gift?"
He Xuan's face twists, anger warring with grief. "It isn't important," he repeats. "Not all gifts are."
Oh. Oh. A gift, one as luxurious and expensive as this one seems, given to someone like He Xuan, who does not keep many people close to his chest—Xie Lian's head feels clearer now that they were out of the pitch dark. He can do the basic math.
Still, there isn't anything he can really say to that, so he keeps quiet and attempts to take stock of his body. There isn't really anything he could do for his lower half—and oh, Hua Cheng is going to freak out when he sees him, Xie Lian is preemptively sorry for that—but he is happy to discover that his hands aren't really pinned down by anything, so he starts flexing them, trying to bring back feelings to aching, sleeping muscles. He doesn't know how long they have been in this cave for, but he hasn't bled out yet, so hopefully that won't happen anytime soon. He is somewhat disappointed to see that he can't actually see his intestines spilling to the floor.
"Why are you. Like this."
"Huh?" he hasn't been looking at He Xuan but he looks now, only to find himself the subject of a very intense look of scrutiny. He Xuan was a scholar, he suddenly remembers. He can certainly see it now.
He Xuan grinds his teeth in frustration. "Kind," he bites out. "You're nice to me. Why."
"Why wouldn't I be?" Xie Lian asks, puzzled. "I prefer to be nice to people, when I can." There were times that he couldn't, and he won't ever forget them. Would have to atone for them for the rest of his life.
"Not—not like this. You've been… telling me things. Trusting me. Crimson Rain doesn't know about the coffin, does he? Or at least not the whole truth." He snorts at Xie Lian's embarrassed silence. "I figured. So, why."
Xie Lian wishes he could scratch at his head, but his hands still feel too heavy for him to move much. "I don't… why not?" he repeats. "You've been taking care of me, even though I'm sure you could have gotten out of here when the cave collapsed. I think…" he squints at the ceiling, trying to remember. "I was further in, right? So you could have jumped away and been safe. But you leapt towards me. Thank you, He Xuan. I would have… struggled, to be here on my own." He watches in fascination as He Xuan honest to the gods blushes, the flush climbing up his bony cheekbones like it's fighting an uphill battle.
"Even before that," He Xuan insists. "You made me come here with you, even though there are approximately five million useless gods who would kill for the chance. I'm sure Crimson Rain tried to convince you out of this, too. Not to mention, that person—" he snaps his mouth shut, but the damage has been done.
"You think I would be angry with you for what you did to Shi Qingxuan?" he hums, and gives He Xuan the mercy of pretending not to notice his flinch at the name. "I don't think it's my place to be angry with you about it."
"You're friends. If they're angry, shouldn't you be too." He Xuan is sitting back on his shins, no longer leaning over Xie Lian, so he has to twist his neck to properly see him, his hair hiding his face from view.
"Shi Qingxuan isn't angry," he says. He Xuan snorts out a bitter laugh.
"Right."
"He isn't, but I understand how it would be hard to believe." Xie Lian sighs. Honestly, he never wished to get involved with this entire messy, devastating situation. It isn't his place, and besides his feelings on the matter are complicated. Wrong or right have no place there, and Xie Lian has spent enough time in the realm of contested morals. Just once, he wishes there could be an easy answer.
"It's like my coffin, isn't it?" he thinks out loud. "Lang Qianqiu couldn't have known what he was sentencing me to, when he closed that lid. But nevertheless I have committed an unforgivable sin, and had to weather my punishment. How could I be angry at him for that? And how could he ever forgive me, even after knowing? Does the punishment fit the crime? Could it ever?"
"You're speaking of philosophy." There is violence in He Xuan's eyes. Xie Lian could never forget the brutality he had shown in Nether Water Mansion, and there is a promise of it here yet again.
Xie Lian tries not to laugh, because he is sure his lungs will be pierced right through if he tries, but a chuckle does escape him. "I think all gods and ghosts only ever contend themselves with philosophy." He shifts minutely, and bites back a grunt of pain when the stones shift with him. A moment later, He Xuan's hand stabilizes him, and he smiles at him, thankful. "I would not speak for Shi Qingxuan. But you shouldn't presume to know his mind either."
He Xuan scowls. "I should have carved his mind right out of his skull," he spits out. "He has never made use of it before, why should he start now? And, indeed, why should he be angry? He should be kneeling before me, groveling in gratitude for sparing his worthless life. Should be cursing his rotten, putrid brother for everyone to hear. Should have cleaved his damn head off himself. Should have chosen—" he cuts himself off, panting. Xie Lian can see that his incisors have bitten straight through his tongue, blood dripping from his mouth down his throat, disappearing into his robes.
He watches as he slowly, painstakingly, pulls himself together: sewing limb to limb, wall to wall. This is the man who lost everything and built himself back a house of bones on charred land. He understands that this conversation is now over. Philosophy it might be, but to beings like them, it is written in violence and death. It isn't Xie Lian's place to interfer here. Shi Qingxuan would not ask him to, and He Xuan would never, could never, welcome it.
He Xuan makes them both stew in the silence a little more before he breaks it. "So it was that useless piece of shit god that buried you alive."
Oh, he did say his name didn't he? Oops. "Like I said, I don't blame him for it. We've laid our ghosts to rest. Ah," he says, realising that might be insensitive phrasing, considering the calamity level ghost he is currently speaking to. "Sorry, I meant—"
"Told you to stop apologising, didn't I?" and then, "Would Crimson Rain forgive him, if he knew the entire story? If he knew you were conscious for it?"
Absolutely not. He Xuan can clearly read the answer from his face because he rolls his eyes. "And that's why I'm nice to you." He says the word like it's something disgusting in his mouth, but the trace of violence from earlier is gone. Xie Lian's sins have been forgiven.
"What?"
"Earlier, you asked. That's why."
"Oh, yes. Because of San Lang."
"Not because we're friends," He Xuan spits it out, glaring at Xie Lian. "That's—insane. But if Crimson Rain comes here, and finds you dead, he is going to tear this entire world apart until there's nothing left. And while I don't actually give a shit about the rest of it, he will start with me."
"But… you are friends," Xie Lian frowns. He can't exactly refute the rest of it, but he can contest this part at least. "I know San Lang can show his affection differently—" he is interrupted by a strange sound, and it takes him a moment to understand that is He Xuan laughing. The sound is startlingly boyish, coming from a man who seems like he is only made of sharp angles and sharper words. Is this how he laughed when he was still going by the name of Ming Yi? No wonder Shi Qingxuan hardly ever left his side.
"That dick? What affection? You think there is anything left in that shriveled, blackened thing he calls a heart that isn't entirely dedicated to you?"
Now Xie Lian's frown is heavier, more pointed. "San Lang's heart is bigger than you think," he says. "I know it like I know—" my own intestines, he almost says, but he doesn't think it will sound very romantic— "my own. I know he doesn't hold many in high regard, but there are a few besides me. Yin Yu. The ghost in the kitchen, who taught him how to cook and now is in charge of most of our meals. You."
"Fuck, the concussion must really have rattled your brain. You're delirious."
Xie Lian, who certainly hasn't been as coherent as he would like to be (and he's sure he's going to be red with embarrassment later, running through this entire conversation in his head), personally thought this was the most clear he had been in recent hours. "I'm not," he protests. "San Lang might show it differently, but he was… worried for you, after everything that happened in the Nether Water Manor." Oh, he has never said as much, but Xie Lian has seen his restlessness, his temper towards others that weren't Xie Lian in the aftermath. He could recognize it for what it was.
He can see that He Xuan still doesn't believe him and gets frustrated, enough to have completely forgotten his situation and trying to move, hoping to explain better. Pain shoots through him and He Xuan curses, once more leaning over him, the stone forgotten on the floor next to him. "Fuck, fuck, fine, if I say I agree, will you stop trying to fucking move?"
"You agree you're friends?"
He Xuan's hands clench hard on Xie Lian's shoulders, and he's sure he's going to have bruises. Another thing for Hua Cheng to fret over later, he thinks regretfully. "I… agree…...… we're........... friends," he says, reluctance and disgust dripping from every word. Xie Lian beams.
"You are!" he exclaims enthusiastically, and doesn't even flinch when a stray stone shifts against his ankle, twisting the bone further.
"Do NOT tell him I said so," He Xuan threatens, and Xie Lian nods rapidly. "I won't, I won't!" He languishes in his success. If this is what it took to make He Xuan and Hua Cheng spend more time together, he doesn't even mind all the broken bones and almost spilled intestines and definitely punctured lung now, ouch, he really shouldn't have moved that much—
Several things happen at once. Xie Lian starts coughing, air collecting in the space between the two layers of his lungs. Hua Cheng steps out of a distance shortening array that seems to have almost been punched through the wall, fury and worry written all over his face. And right before Xie Lian definitely passes out, he sees He Xuan pocket the stone, darkness surrounding them again.
He blacks out.
Weeks after the entire "cave debacle," as Xia Lian has started calling it in an attempt to smoothen out the wrinkle in Hua Cheng's forehead every time he remembers it, He Xuan comes to Ghost City. He has made himself scarce after Xie Lian waking up, scampering away before he could truly thank him for his care (and apologise for all the many, many, many embarrassing things Xie Lian had said). Hua Cheng wouldn't say anything about what they've spoken about, if anything.
"Gege shouldn't concern himself with that bastard," he just said. "He only needs to think about resting and healing." The sole reason Xie Lian hasn't pushed further was the look of agony on Hua Cheng's face every time he thought Xie Lian wasn't looking at him, the careful way he touched him now, as if Xie Lian was made of the most fragile glass.
They're past that now. Xie Lian has received a full bill of health from both Ling Wen and the Ghost City's most expert doctors. That night, he had pushed Hua Cheng back on their bed, and showed him exactly how healthy and whole and not breakable he was.
So, when He Xuan shows up in their kitchen, Xie Lian isn't surprised that he times it with the exact time Hua Cheng had been called away to deal with something in the Gambling Den, the first time he has left Xie Lian's side in weeks.
"I hope whatever is happening in the Gambling Den isn't too disruptive," he greets him, entering the otherwise empty kitchen and making a beeline to the food storage. He thinks he has almost perfected his noodles, and Hua Cheng will definitely deserve a home-cooked meal after dealing with whatever He Xuan has unleashed in his city.
"I don't know what you're talking about," He Xuan says. He makes very little effort to make it sound convincing.
"Hmm," Xie Lian says, but doesn't contradict him. He starts taking out the ingredients he would need. "Would you stay for dinner?"
"Fuck no, I just survived one perilous disaster. I'm not gambling on two." Xie Lian isn't sure if he's talking about his own cooking or Hua Cheng's presence, but he laughs either way.
"You should tell me how else I can thank you then, if not with a meal." He can't see him, but he's sure He Xuan is rolling his eyes.
"I don't need your thanks. I'm here just to make sure…" he trails off.
"Oh! I'm alright," Xie Lian spins to reassure him. "See? All healed up."
"What? I don't care about that," He Xuan scoffs. "I wanted to make sure you weren't telling Crimson Rain weird shit."
Xie Lian has to bring up a hand to cover the mirth dancing on his lips, but he's sure he's doing a very bad job at it. "Ah, of course. I have to admit, my concussion was quite bad. I remember very little of our conversation," he lies. "I hope I wasn't being too much of a burden." This part wasn't a lie.
"You were fine." The relief is almost palpable in his face, and Xie Lian barely manages to control his laugh. "That's—good. That you're fine, not that you can't remember," he fumbles, and then scowls. "Whatever. I'm going."
Xie Lian watches him as he stands up, his robes swirling around him. "Perhaps you would be willing to accompany me next week? I have heard rumors of a labyrinth built by a famous cultivator some odd centuries ago. San Lang is going to be busy."
He Xuan gives him a look. "Seriously? Haven't you learnt your lesson?" He takes a moment to straighten his robes, and doesn't look at Xie Lian as he asks: "Why are you asking me."
Xie Lian can't keep it in anymore. "Is it so bad to wish to bond with my husband's friend?" He watches the look of horror creep slowly on He Xuan's face. "After all, my San Lang's friend knows so much about me now, but I still barely know anything about him. And since he's my husband's best friend, I would like—"
"I'm leaving!" He Xuan declares loudly. He almost slams into the door on his way out, and Xie Lian starts laughing.
"There will always be a place at our table for my husband's best friend!" he calls after him. And perhaps, in time, they could invite Shi Qingxuan for a meal as well. He doesn't forget the stone, secreted away even as its owner claimed its frivolity. He turns back to the chopping block, a smile still dancing on his lips. Around him, the kitchen is bathed in the afternoon light streaming through the huge windows on the wall. Soon, his husband will be back, and they will laugh as they eat Xie Lian's cooking. They will retire to bed together, and Hua Cheng will hold him as he blows out the candles. And even though Xie Lian has never told Hua Cheng about his fear of the dark, not in as many words, that doesn't mean Hua Cheng doesn't know. Hundreds of silver butterflies will light up their room, and they will sleep.