Archive of Our Own

It’s raining outside. Not just a little drizzle, your-hair-gets-a-little-moist-if-you-walk-through-it sort of rain, but a downpour as if the entire river in the Heavenly Capital has been emptying itself right above Puqi Shrine for the past hour or so.

Xie Lian tells himself he doesn’t mind. It’s just a little water, and inside of Puqi Shrine, things have remained relatively dry. There’s just a little hole in the corner next to the stove, but he placed a bucket underneath it to catch the rain. Unfortunately, it turns out there are also a few more cracks in the walls than he realised, through which the icy wind blows inside, but it’s fine. He wrapped his spare set of robes around his shoulders, and it keeps him from shivering too hard.

The steady clatter of drops on the roof of Puqi Shrine is soothing, in a way. It makes the rest of the world disappear, and it makes it easy to get lost in his thoughts. Thoughts which, more often than not, drift back to Hua Cheng. Hua Cheng smiling at him, Hua Cheng letting him talk about the prayers he received from the villagers, Hua Cheng eating his cooking with a pleased shimmer in his eyes, murmuring “not bad, gege,” with his mouth full. “Maybe a little less spice next time, but overall really not bad.”

Xie Lian smiles at the memory, turning from his back onto his side to curl his knees into his chest like a little shrimp. And if he wiggles his toes a little because he’s happy, well, there’s no one else around to see it.

Because the sound of the rain is so overwhelming—and Xie Lian is maybe a little too lost in his thoughts—he doesn’t hear the knock on the door at first. It’s only when the knocks grow in volume and speed that eventually, he’s startled out of musings.

There’s someone outside? In this weather? No wonder they’re knocking on his door, they must be soaking wet and looking for shelter!

Xie Lian jumps up from his bamboo mat and hurries over to the door. He tries to open it a crack to avoid more rain from being blown in, but the wind is more powerful than he expected. It’s only his quick reflexes that prevent the door from being blown open completely, but the heavy gusts of wind make the rain come down almost horizontally, right into his face.

He blinks, wiping his eyes, and makes out a figure in red, standing underneath a crimson umbrella.

“Hello, gege.”

“San Lang!” Xie Lian smiles happily, before the smile is replaced by a look of worry. “Why are you out here in the rain! Please, come in!”

Xie Lian steps aside, and Hua Cheng brushes past him. Somehow, Hua Cheng’s robes are completely dry. Even his umbrella doesn’t seem to be as soaked as it should’ve been, only a few droplets falling down into the shrine’s floor. Hua Cheng folds the umbrella and places it in the corner next to the half-full bucket of rain water.

“Gege, we really must fix up your home soon. What if you catch a cold like this?”

Xie Lian waves both hands in front of him. “Ah, San Lang, It’s fine, really. I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

That was evidently the wrong thing to say, as a shadow flits across Hua Cheng’s face for a brief moment. It’s gone as quickly as it came though, and his lips curl up into a grin as he steps closer to Xie Lian. Before Xie Lian fully grasps what is happening, Hua Cheng’s cool, dry hands come up to cup around his cheeks. Hua Cheng is very close all of a sudden.

“You should take better care of yourself, gege…”

Xie Lian just breathes, too overcome at the words to reply. When was the last time someone wanted him to take care of himself?

“San Lang…”

Xie Lian shivers pleasantly as Hua Cheng leans his forehead against Xie Lian’s, their mouths so close that Xie Lian can feel Hua Cheng’s breath on his lips. Breath that he knows Hua Cheng doesn’t need, but takes anyway when he’s around Xie Lian. It’s comforting, the way a lot of things about Hua Cheng are comforting. Like the way he’s rubbing his thumbs over Xie Lian’s cheeks, or the way his eye softens as he looks at Xie Lian. Hua Cheng’s hands should have been cool, but they’re warm somehow. Xie Lian doesn’t know if it’s because he himself is so cold or because Hua Cheng is making himself warmer for Xie Lian’s sake.

“Come,” Hua Cheng says, and Xie Lian follows him wordlessly to the bamboo mat on the cold floor that doesn’t look as cold anymore now that Hua Cheng is here.

Hua Cheng takes off his coat, and he waits until Xie Lian has lain down, stretched out on his side of the mat. (They’ve slept together here so many nights now that Xie Lian has started to think of the right side of the mat as his side, which makes something light bubble up inside of his chest, like air bubbles underwater drifting up to the surface). Then Hua Cheng covers Xie Lian with his crimson robe, and it’s like Xie Lian has been submerged into a bathtub full of warm water. He stops shivering instantly.

Hua Cheng lies down beside him, facing him, his head propped up on one arm. As Xie Lian watches him, he’s helpless to stop the soft, fond smile from spreading across his face.

“San Lang, why have you come here?”

Hua Cheng reaches out with his free hand, twirling his fingers into a lock of Xie Lian’s hair that’s draped over his shoulder. “I just thought gege might like the company.”

“I do,” Xie Lian says softly, without thinking.

Hua Cheng’s fingers move to Xie Lian’s jaw, gently tracing the curve of it.

Xie Lian doesn’t even try to suppress the shudder that flits through him at the touch, down his spine, to his toes. His body responds for him when he’s around Hua Cheng, and he’s learned that that’s okay.

It’s been so long since anyone has touched him like this. Before Hua Cheng, Xie Lian can’t even remember who had last touched him so casually, so gently. But then Hua Cheng came into his life, and ever since then, Xie Lian’s come to take so much joy in his touch; holding hands, standing so close that their shoulders brush, Hua Cheng’s hand on his wrist or on the small of his back, or on his cheek.

Sometimes Xie Lian thought that all his body knew anymore was pain, to the point where he’s genuinely become numb to it. But when Hua Cheng touches him, he just knows pleasure.

He didn’t know his body was this sensitive to it.

“San Lang…” Xie Lian whispers, barely audible over the sound of the rain outside. 

“Gege…” Hua Cheng’s fingers move to his neck, dance over the bandages, then curl behind his ear. Xie Lian watches through half-lidded eyes as Hua Cheng scuffles closer a little, so close they’re almost touching.

Xie Lian wants more of Hua Cheng’s touch—suddenly notices his body is craving it so badly that it aches, there’s a hollow feeling inside his chest that he desperately wants to be filled. He wants Hua Cheng’s arms around him, he wants to be warm and to feel cherished. He wants it so much that he feels his eyes prickle with heat. His next inhale comes shuddery, wetly.

And then Hua Cheng is suddenly moving again, his arms wrapping around Xie Lian. And Xie Lian moves a little too, shuffling down so his head fits underneath Hua Cheng’s chin, and his left arm comes up to snake around Hua Cheng’s waist.

Xie Lian doesn’t know who draws who closer, but it doesn’t matter. Suddenly his cheek is pressed against Hua Cheng’s chest, and all he can smell is Hua Cheng, warm like ginger and pine. Hua Cheng’s hair brushes softly, silkily, against the side of his neck, and Hua Cheng’s arms are wrapped so firmly around him that the last of Xie Lian’s shivers fade away.

Everything with Hua Cheng is always so easy. Hua Cheng always seems to know what Xie Lian needs, even if Xie Lian doesn’t even know himself. Xie Lian thought that after 800 years, he knew his own body, but he was wrong.

He never knew he needed to be touched by someone like this. And now that Hua Cheng has shown him, is showing him, keeps showing him hopefully for as long as Hua Cheng will want to be around him, it’s like something inside of him slots into place. Like a broken vase, all the shards slowly pieced together until Xie Lian feels whole again. No longer hollow, no longer cold, no longer in pain.

Not with Hua Cheng.

Hua Cheng starts rubbing little circles between Xie Lian’s shoulder blades, his other hand securely pressed into the small of Xie Lian’s back. In return, Xie Lian curls his fingers into the back of Hua Cheng’s robes. Xie Lian feels so content that it wouldn’t surprise him if he started purring like a kitten any moment now.

Instead, he lets out a soft gasp, which turns into a soft moan because Hua Cheng presses his thumb into a sore spot on his shoulder, and his touch just feels so good.

Hua Cheng chuckles above him, deep, a rumble Xie Lian can feel because of how closely they’re pressed together.

“Does gege feel good?”

Xie Lian can feel his cheeks heat up at the teasing note in Hua Cheng’s voice, but it doesn’t matter because Hua Cheng can’t see him anyway. It just makes him feel even warmer and even more content.

“Yes,” he whispers back. “San Lang always makes me feel good.”

“If gege would come with me to Paradise Manor, San Lang could always make him feel good,” Hua Cheng says, and although the teasing note isn’t completely gone, Xie Lian is observant enough to hear that there’s a serious tone underneath. Hua Cheng means it. He really wants to look after Xie Lian.

When’s the last time anyone wanted to look after him? 

Xie Lian can’t remember.

Ruoye twists around Xie Lian’s arm, squirming with what Xie Lian knows is happiness. Ruoye has always been able to sense Xie Lian’s moods, ever since the very beginning, when he’d just been born and had no idea why Xie Lian was so, so sad. He just stayed with him, comforting Xie Lian in the only way he knew how. The way he still does, 800 years later.

“I suppose Paradise Manor doesn’t have a leaking roof,” Xie Lian says, only a little bit ashamed. But Hua Cheng knew the state of Puqi Shrine, and he still came to visit.

“It doesn’t. But if gege wishes Puqi Shrine to be his home, then this San Lang will help him fix it after the rain has passed.”

Hua Cheng offered Xie Lian his home so casually… No, not casually. Hua Cheng may pretend to act casual, but Xie Lian is learning to read the depths to his words. 

It’s oh so tempting, to just let Hua Cheng take care of him. To not have to be strong for just a little while. To have a place to sleep, a bed even maybe. To not have to collect scraps to sell for a meat bun. 

To have Hua Cheng’s touch, to feel safe. Hua Cheng moves his hand from Xie Lian’s shoulder to the back of his head—toys with the chain around Xie Lian’s neck for a few moments—and then he starts stroking Xie Lian’s hair gently. Xie Lian’s eyes fall shut of their own accord, his body all pliant and relaxed by Hua Cheng wrapped completely around him; Hua Cheng’s touch and his ginger smell and his caring words.

Hua Cheng is sort of absentmindedly petting Xie Lian’s hair now, and it lulls Xie Lian into a hazy state of mind where he drifts between sleeping and consciousness. The rain sounds distant now, the wind barely audible. His world has just been reduced to Hua Cheng.

“S-san Lang…” Xie Lian mutters, the words slurred with sleep.

He didn’t know how tired he was until this very moment.

The last thing he hears is Hua Cheng’s soft, “Sleep, gege. You’re safe. I’m here.”