Chapter Text
The bad day started, like most bad days, with a nightmare.
Nightmares weren’t as common anymore. It wasn’t like the first nights after Jun Wu’s defeat, when Xie Lian slept alone in the little cottage on Taicang mountain—when he would wake in a cold sweat, remembering that burst of butterflies and the hot Tonglu wind that carried away his last believer, blowing Hua Cheng straight out of his arms like so many dandelion seeds. Imagining the string on his finger suddenly turning to dust, the ring around his neck shattering.
The nightmares lessened when Hua Cheng came back. It helped to know that he could wake up and look over and see him; it helped when he knew he could lightly touch Hua Cheng’s arm, and the ghost king would wordlessly wrap his arms around his trembling form and pull him close.
On this particular bad day, however, his nightmare involved Hua Cheng in a different way.
It wasn’t like Xie Lian had never dreamed about sex before. In the dreams, though, he wasn’t quite himself: namely, he wasn’t celibate and he wasn’t embarrassed. Situations happened randomly, almost like passing thoughts, echoing whatever he’d seen before during his travels.
Once, in the middle years of his banishment, he’d walked into an overgrown garden to lie down and rest and found two lovers hiding there. They were a young man and a woman; the woman was bent over, being driven roughly into by the man. Xie Lian was struck by how much they seemed like animals, rutting together.
When they’d stopped, scrambling up in embarrassment, Xie Lian had chastised them lightly for doing something so brazen in public. In the end, though, he’d given them a few coins for an inn room. Young lovers were something precious; shouldn’t they be protected?
In the dream he had that night, the one with his face pressed into the soft and fragrant dirt was him.
Another time, he’d helped two young women run away together. There was a curse, burning-red and violent, winding its way up one of their legs. It had been set by a jealous former lover, the kind of curse that only dual cultivation could solve. Xie Lian had pondered it, this final act of cruelty: if you don’t want me, you’ll have to fall property to someone else.
Xie Lian had gently reassured the women, then explained the proper methods, but they didn’t have the level of spiritual energy necessary for it. They’d needed to borrow.
As Xie Lian had waited outside the curtains of the room, waiting to administer the next dose, he’d closed his eyes and meditated against the sounds from within. When one of them shyly emerged for more spiritual energy, though, the fingers of one of her hands shone pearly-wet in the light of the inn.
In the dream he had that night, the sickly-sweet touch of careful fingers was prying into him.
He’d had these encounters, these dreams, these thoughts. They didn’t progress very far. His meditation was advanced. Intimacy, to him, was like a poisonous berry; he could appreciate the beauty, the ripe and turgid swell of it—but he’d accepted the reality of never eating it long ago, so he could watch it and feel nothing. It was like food that wasn’t food anymore. It wasn’t for him. Intimacy was something that other people did.
Then, one day in paradise manor, Xie Lian was sitting by Hua Cheng’s side on the divan in the main hall when a new troupe of dancers swirled in.
It wasn’t uncommon for groups to stop by; they knew Hua Cheng was liberal with his gold, and more liberal still if the performance drew a smile or a gasp from his dianxia. It should have been lucky for them, therefore, to find that Xie Lian was there today, sitting politely next to a lounging Crimson Rain Sought Flower. Indeed, as the performance began—it seemed to be something between an earnestly passionate romance and a comedy—Xie Lian gave a little smile and clapped. It was all going well.
Then the dancers flung off a layer of gauze, and whirled into a more suggestive dance.
Xie Lian froze in place.
They were miming it—pretending—launching into act after act of raunchy comedy: one dancer launched herself at another, grabbing him from behind and giving a lascivious hump with her hips; and that second dancer, who’d been knocked into so rudely, twirled his arms in a pantomime of surprise—and immediately toppled over, in an exaggerated lewd pose, onto a third dancer on her hands and knees in front of him. And suddenly, from behind Xie Lian—
“Hahahahaha!”
At the sound, Xie Lian nearly jumped. Hua Cheng had laughed.
“All right, all right,” Hua Cheng sneered, throwing out a handful of gold coins. They fell with a generous plink-plink-plink to the floor in front of the dancers. “That sort of thing is better-suited for a brothel than the presence of a god. Still, I’ll commend you for amusing me. Take your money and scram.”
Xie Lian wasn’t quite listening, watching the coins roll to a stop on the ground. The red-sleeved arm around his shoulders, which had felt so comforting before, suddenly seemed heavy.
He’d forgotten Hua Cheng was a sexual creature.
Up to that point, it had been like they were both pretending. Hua Cheng would coax him suggestively, crooning and teasing and maneuvering, seducing—very often—but in the end, it was all in pursuit of a kiss or a compliment. It was like a children’s game. Mama, what do people do after they get married? Ah, they kiss and hug, don’t worry about it for now.
But in that moment on the divan, it was as though a naughty older brother had leaned in and whispered the correct answer in his ear:
“They fuck.”
All of this went through his head in an instant, and then Hua Cheng was speaking again.
“Sorry about that,” Hua Cheng was saying, sitting up straight and sliding his arm off Xie Lian’s shoulder. “I hope that didn’t offend gege too severely.”
Still red-faced, Xie Lian cleared his throat. “It’s fine, this kind of…I’m not used to it, but…as long as San Lang enjoyed it—”
“Don’t worry about that,” Hua Cheng said lightly. “I’ve seen this type of thing ten thousand times, what do I care? What matters is whether gege enjoyed it.”
Ten thousand times?
This sort of thing is better-suited for a brothel.
Had Hua Cheng been to a brothel? Xie Lian knew he shouldn’t feel jealous. After all, they both knew Xie Lian’s cultivation method. Hua Cheng shouldn’t suffer just because Xie Lian couldn’t satisfy him, just because this body wasn’t destined for sex. Xie Lian would never want Hua Cheng to get trapped like that. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like Hua Cheng didn’t eat food cooked by someone else too, so why should this be any different?
“I enjoyed it,” Xie Lian said, with a smile.
It was different because he knew Hua Cheng wouldn’t, so he was trapped either way.
Xie Lian was pulled out of his thoughts by Hua Cheng lightly tracing his arm.
“Won’t you thank me properly for it?” he said, with a mocking sigh.
Xie Lian leaned forward and kissed him. It tasted like guilt.
That was what led to the nightmare.
🦢
In the dream, Hua Cheng was laughing softly in his ear, and Xie Lian was naked, and clever hands were prying across his thighs. They were on the divan. The dancers were gone.
“Gege, gege. You’re so beautiful.”
But this dream felt too real, too vivid; Xie Lian wasn’t pliant and confident, like he’d been in those other dreams he’d had. There was a pit in his stomach and sweat tingling on his palms—so he hesitated.
“San Lang?” he said quietly. “Actually, just…wait a second. I don’t think I’m ready.”
“Of course you’re ready,” Hua Cheng murmured. A languid squeeze wrapped around his length, greedy and determined. “Look how ready you are, right here. So ready for me, dianxia.”
Xie Lian winced and let out a soft “ow,” even though it didn’t hurt.
Hua Cheng laughed. “It’s not painful.”
“It hurts a little,” Xie Lian lied. His heart was hammering in his chest.
“Gege is such a tease,” Hua Cheng said, and started stroking.
The whole of it moved together with his hand—a mass of ugly, traitorous flesh. The filthy udder of a cow. Xie Lian felt sick.
“Actually, San Lang, I really, I’m—”
“Shhh…don’t worry. Just relax.”
His body was reacting; that much couldn’t be denied. Maybe if he just let himself—maybe it would be fine—maybe Hua Cheng knew what he was doing, and this is just how it was for everyone. It wasn’t like Xie Lian would know; he’d never done this. This sort of matter, wouldn’t it be scary no matter what? Of course he needed a little push.
But he couldn’t help it; he felt scared. When Hua Cheng’s free hand crept down behind him too, he squeezed his legs shut and clenched.
Hua Cheng chuckled. “Don’t be scared. It’ll feel good.”
In the nightmare, suddenly, Xie Lian couldn’t speak. The words couldn’t come out. He couldn’t move.
“Would gege deny me that?” Hua Cheng was whispering, as he stroked him. “This believer only wants his god to feel good. Isn’t it fair?”
Xie Lian wavered for a moment, unsure. He trusted Hua Cheng, didn’t he? Hua Cheng had saved him so many times. There was so much that he owed him.
There was so much that he owed him.
Xie Lian closed his eyes.
The hands slid over him and into him, like hands slicing and folding into water, and then he was floating. He was floating, he was floating, he was—
Xie Lian woke up with a start, feeling nauseous, drenched in sweat.
This time, when he looked across the bed and saw Hua Cheng sleeping, he didn’t reach out for him. He couldn’t go back to sleep.
🦢
When Xie Lian got up the next morning, and Hua Cheng had already gone and left him a plate of fruits and a note, he was suddenly determined—and a little frustrated at himself.
What was he getting all worried about? He was going to fix his problem.
After all, even if Hua Cheng wouldn’t ever do something bad like what he’d imagined in his dream—
(Right?)
—Xie Lian still wanted to be comfortable with this. Like any skill that involved the body, it could be trained. Training was something that Xie Lian was familiar with, that he wasn’t bad at. How hard could it be?
Okay, then! There always had to be a first time, and wasn’t this as good a time as any? There was no need to be sentimental about it.
Xie Lian steadied himself with a deep breath, eased his robes apart, and—took himself in hand.
“…”
He moved his hand a little up and down, like he’d once seen a strange old man doing it on a street corner. It didn’t feel like much. Except, it felt embarrassing to sit like this, half in and half out of a robe, like a dirty picture in a pornographic book. Also, wasn’t it supposed to get hard?
Maybe if he thought of something…ah, there was one thing that he thought about often. Hua Cheng did something, sometimes, when Xie Lian had his hair tied up; he leaned over and blew a puff of air at the nape of his neck. The abrupt feeling always made Xie Lian gasp and clap his hand over the back of it. When he’d look back at Hua Cheng, cheeks burning, he’d see the ghost king laugh.
He always wished he could see it before it happened—the twinkle in Hua Cheng’s eye, the mischievous lips pursing, the soft intake of breath before he blew.
Xie Lian thought about it and thought about it. He thought about it until his hand stopped moving, and he leaned back and closed his eyes in the warm light of the window, imaging it.
“…”
Ah, the thing in his hand was getting a little bit…stiffer. But he was so comfortable, lounging here and thinking about it…there really wasn’t any need to move his hand at all, was there? Though, what would happen if he did? Xie Lian had a vision of all of it coming together—he’d start getting harder and harder, and breathing fast, and everything would be right with the world—he’d strike quite a picture, wanton and unfamiliar, making sighs like those he’d heard sometimes through flimsy inn walls—and he’d know this time for sure that he could please Hua Cheng like he deserved.
Invigorated by the thought, Xie Lian started moving his hand again—but when he did, he lost focus on the picture in his mind. Before long, he was back to being mostly soft.
Frustrated and feeling ridiculous, Xie Lian sank back into the pillows. “How come it’s like this?” he said sulkily out loud, his voice sounding pathetic in his own ears. What if it was broken? What if it was just impossible, after so many hundreds of years without?
Maybe it was the atmosphere of it that was wrong; this whole scene, like he was a taoist priest performing his own exorcism, it wouldn’t do. Determined, Xie Lian swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.
He glanced at the bowl of fruit that Hua Cheng had left for a moment, then reached for a peach.
“…”
Slowly, he drew his hand away, guilt blossoming in his chest, and shook his head. If he managed to go through with this, it would be his reward.
🦢
A few hours later, Xie Lian stumbled back into the room and fumbled the door shut behind him, red-faced and drenched in sweat.
He’d managed to reach his target—a shady establishment in the red-light district, selling clothing for a certain type of ghost.
Xie Lian knew it had been a mistake to go in the first place. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been in shady places like this before; in fact, he’d passed through so many that he knew exactly what to do when he was in one—take a look at everything, let any thoughts pass through his mind unhindered, and then gently avert his gaze. A swan coasting gently along a turbulent lake, white robes and clean mind.
What he hadn’t expected was how different it would feel, when he was there as a customer.
Even though he’d gone in a disguise, changing his skin to a very convincing ferret-like ghost, he’d felt embarrassed, like everyone was watching him. He’d come to buy one of these things, so maybe he could feel a little more comfortable with all of this—maybe he could look down at his body and see something worth being coveted—something that Hua Cheng would like—but—but—
None of the bizarre garments on the walls seemed to be anything he’d ever wear at all?! These garish outfits, made for things to hang out here and there, cheekily revealing expanses of skin—they were so far from his usual simple cultivation robes that they might as well not be clothing at all.
He’d been staring awkwardly at a skimpy set of innerwear clearly designed for a ghost with more than four breasts when suddenly, someone tapped him on the shoulder. With a little jump, Xie Lian turned around.
A scantily-clad ghost woman, showing snake scales through the generous gaps in her outfit, gave him a look. “Aw, a mouse or somethin’. Sorry, I forget your kind is real jumpy. You lookin’ for anything?”
Ah, the attendant of the shop. Xie Lian cleared his throat. “…actually, yes. I was…well, my husband doesn’t seem to be…I’ve never really—”
The woman burst out in laughter. “I know what’s goin’ on here. We get your type all the time.”
“…my type?”
“Uh huh. Husband doesn’t seem to want it anymore, yeah?”
Feeling silly and flustered, Xie Lian babbled: “Kind of? But—”
“That’s normal. They get bored, y’know. They chase after you for so long, when they’ve finally got what they want, it’s no fun anymore.”
“…” Xie Lian blinked. “…um…”
“We get lotta young folk just like yourself ‘round here. Big romance, then fated lovers, then newlyweds…” The woman chuckled to herself, remembering a bad joke. “Then prisoners.”
Xie Lian felt a little defensive, despite himself. “It’s not that kind of situation.”
“Oh? You think yours is forever?”
“I think there is such a thing.”
“Yeah, I hear that a lot.” With a smile, the woman patted his shoulder. “C’mon, cheer up! It ain’t a bad thing, hm? It means you can finally pull out the fun stuff. Keeps the flame going a little longer.”
Xie Lian shook his head with some. “That seems like an unpleasant way to look at things.”
The woman turned to a rack. “Uh huh? Then let’s find a pleasant way of lookin’ at it.”
As Xie Lian watched her rummage through a drawer, his gaze strayed across the small shop, the other people in it. Unprompted, a thought crossed his mind.
Maybe these people are all just like she says.
He looked down at his shoes.
But they were all probably intimate with their beloved at least one time. If even with that, their relationship didn ’t work out, then me with San Lang…
Thinking about Hua Cheng suddenly snapped him back to reality, though. This was Hua Cheng he was thinking about, who’d stayed his believer for centuries, who hadn’t abandoned him even through the worst of times, through everything—and for a year of waiting, Xie Lian had believed in him, too. Of course Hua Cheng wouldn’t mind a deficiency like this. Why had it even crossed his mind?
Then, all of a sudden, Xie Lian had a vision in his mind’s eye: Hua Cheng dissolving out of his arms again.
This time, not out of spent spiritual energy, but rather out of spent love.
When the woman turned back around, her eyes widened. “Aw, honey!” she said. “Is it that bad? Don’t cry, it isn’t that serious. Men, they aren’t shit, don’t you know?”
Xie Lian sighed, wiping away tears with the back of his hand. “En, I know. I’m just tired.”
“You’re the second person crying in this shop today, you know that?” the woman said in wonder.
“Oh?” Xie Lian felt a little better. “Who was the other one?”
“A lady came in this morning, prettiest thing you ever saw.” The woman rubbed her chin, remembering. “Looked sharp as a sword when she came in, but the minute I started talkin’ to her about clothes, she started bawling about being too ugly.”
“That so sad,” Xie Lian said quietly. “People can be so cruel. Who would make their beloved feel something like that?”
“A real dog-fucker, I bet.” The woman held something up. “Anyway, how’s this?”
🦢
Now back in the room, Xie Lian unwrapped the package in his hands.
The woman had picked out a few things—subtler, she’d said, to suit his style, whatever that meant—and Xie Lian laid them out on a small counter. A nearly sheer inner robe, a small pot of lip rouge, a faint and flowery perfume.
Despite his initial fears, Xie Lian found himself feeling a bit excited. With a deep breath, he slipped out of his robes and put on the new one. Then, he walked to the mirror and took a peek.
“…”
The person in the mirror, it was him. Why had he thought it would be anyone else? It was him, wearing something he’d never wear. His body did look good in it, the brown of his loose hair standing out in stark contrast to the silky white, the powerful form of his body softened by the sheen of the fabric—that much had to be said; it actually looked even better than he’d thought. It was only that…
He looked rather too good, too enticing, too experienced. Too…ready. Misleading.
The nightmare from the night before passed through his head, but only for a moment. There wasn’t any time to think about it; he still had to figure out the rouge.
It was only once he’d applied the cherry-red lip paint that he realized he’d forgotten to reward himself from the bowl of fruit Hua Cheng had left out. Eating something now would ruin the makeup.
Well, it was fine either way, wasn’t it? Xie Lian wasn’t hungry. He crawled onto the bed and sat down, waiting.
🦢
When the door opened, Xie Lian was curled on the bed, half asleep.
In the instant that the sound of sliding wood met his ears, however, Xie Lian was suddenly at attention. He scrambled upright and stared, like a deer caught staring into the glow of a lamp, and looked towards the door, and—
Hua Cheng, who had just walked in, took one look at him and froze.
In his panic and preparations, Xie Lian hadn’t even thought about what to say. He’d just assumed Hua Cheng would say something, wasn’t Hua Cheng always the one that was so good with words? Ah, it seemed the task would fall to him this time; he cleared his throat.
“San Lang,” he said. “Um. I was thinking…”
Hua Cheng—who still seemed to be frozen in surprise—looked down to the outfit, then back up at Xie Lian’s face. The attention made Xie Lian’s face grow red.
“Ahem. Um. I was just…if San Lang wanted to, I was thinking that we should—” No. “That he might want to—” No. “That it might be nice if we—”
Xie Lian’s words were interrupted by his own nervous swallow, an uncomfortable click in his throat. He looked down at played with his hands.
“If we…tried…being together?”
Every part of him was sweating. His face was so red he could’ve spat blood.
The words that came out of Hua Cheng’s mouth weren’t the ones he expected:
“Gege, who told you to dress like this?”
Hua Cheng couldn’t have landed a more direct hit if he’d pierced him through with E-ming. A sea of white-hot embarrassment washed over Xie Lian’s face.
“Nobody, I just thought…”
I thought you’d want this? I want it. Now that it wasn’t going well, Xie Lian wanted it bad—he wanted it so bad, even if it was how it was in the nightmare. Anything but feeling like this.
Realizing his mistake, Hua Cheng slowly came forward and sat gently on the edge of his bed. “Ah, that came out sounding wrong. Don’t worry, I was just surprised. I didn’t mean gege doesn’t look good. It’s only…”
Suddenly, his voice trailed off, as though he’d noticed something.
“It’s only what?” Xie Lian managed, looking back at him.
Hua Cheng gazed at him for a long moment, with an unreadable expression.
Then, he slowly took off his own outer robe and wrapped it around Xie Lian’s shoulders, pressing the heavy red fabric down over the silky white.
“Gege,” he said softly. “You’re trembling.”
Xie Lian felt numb. “It’s nothing.”
Without a word, Hua Cheng reached up and stroked his face.
A flicker of frustration lit in Xie Lian’s chest, and he insisted: “It’s nothing. It’s normal to be like this, since I’ve never…”
Hua Cheng didn’t say a word. He only waited patiently for him to finish, his one eye looking a little sad in the candlelight.
The frustration boiled over into sickness, into an bitter feeling that coiled in Xie Lian’s stomach and made him snap: “I know it’s something you want, and I want it too. I’m not made of glass. I—I’m tired of you treating me like I’m made of glass—if I want to do something for you, for once, isn’t it—!”
“Shhh,” Hua Cheng soothed finally, coming forward and embracing him. Like this, everything was Hua Cheng—his robe, and his arms, the scent of him—like a cocoon, like the warmth of sleeping safely in the shell of one’s own body.
Xie Lian’s eyes were suddenly swimming with tears, and his voice quavered. “I thought you’d…”
“I’m not Feng Xin,” Hua Cheng murmured. “You don’t have to try to pay me back so I’ll stay.”
“I’m not lying,” Xie Lian said weakly. “You know that, don’t you? I want...I want…”
As Xie Lian’s voice trailed off, Hua Cheng pressed his lips over his, kissing him. When he eased back, the rouge on Xie Lian’s lips had smeared, and Hua Cheng’s own lips were tinted by it.
And finally, Hua Cheng laughed. “En, I know gege isn’t lying.” His smile took on a hint of mischief. “I’m flattered by gege’s interest. Still, let’s be careful. Otherwise, it isn’t any different from when gege ran himself through with his sword.”
The smile turned sad.
“I don’t want to be that sword.”
🦢
After Xie Lian settled himself properly, dabbing away the tears and smoldering with embarrassment, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d ruined everything. Now, wouldn’t everything that had to do with this kind of thing be tainted? Hua Cheng would always know that he was scared.
But Hua Cheng didn’t seem fazed. In fact, something about his manner seemed to have eased a little. Settling on the bed, he smiled towards Xie Lian.
“Gege, come here for a bit. Sit.”
“Mn?” Xie Lian looked up from the handkerchief he’d been fiddling with. “Where?”
“On my lap.”
Though he hesitated, feeling stupid, Xie Lian crawled on, settling his back against Hua Cheng’s chest. Hua Cheng reached around him, holding his arms.
“Put your arms over mine,” he said.
Xie Lian did so, feeling the steadiness of Hua Cheng’s arms beneath his, lining up their hands.
“See this?”
“En.”
“It’s your body, gege,” Hua Cheng whispered in his ear, threading his fingers up through the spaces between Xie Lian’s. “It’s all one, mine and yours. Do you see it?”
Hua Cheng curled his fingers a little, and Xie Lian instinctively did the same. The twin pairs of hands seemed like a pair of butterflies, flattening their wings.
“It’s yours,” Hua Cheng murmured. “It’s all yours. It’ll never do anything you don’t want it to do.”
The words were surprising, and Xie Lian’s hand loosened, the fingers of his hands fanning out a little; but Hua Cheng mirrored the movement. As Xie Lian’s fingers drifted up, his drifted down.
A little shyly, Xie Lian crooked his fingers in slow succession, folding them down, one after the other. Hua Cheng copied him, until their hands were clasped tightly. When Xie Lian squeezed, Hua Cheng squeezed back.
In response Xie Lian puffed out a laughing sigh. When he did so, however, he felt Hua Cheng breathe gently in; and when Xie Lian breathed in again, he felt Hua Cheng breathe out in turn.
All of a sudden, Xie Lian felt near tears again. He kept following the rhythm of their breathing, though, until the feeling had settled.
Then, Hua Cheng tucked his chin over Xie Lian’s shoulder. “See?” he said. “Nothing for gege to be afraid of.”
“I know,” Xie Lian mumbled, turning his head a little. “I wasn’t afraid of you.”
“Mn,” Hua Cheng said, noncommittally.
Xie Lian insisted, staring stubbornly down both their legs. “I wasn’t.”
“That’s fine.” Xie Lian felt Hua Cheng turn his head. “Oh. Gege didn’t take any fruit? Was it not to his liking?”
“Ah, haha, I just forgot…” Xie Lian raised his hand and reached out—
Hua Cheng reached out too.
“San Lang?!”
Hua Cheng laughed as he plucked a grape from the bowl. “Didn’t I say it? It’s your arm, too.”
“That’s silly…”
But Xie Lian still opened his mouth, letting Hua Cheng push it past the opening of his lips, until his teeth took hold.
“It’s not silly,” Hua Cheng chuckled. “If you’re hungry, I’m hungry too.”
Feeling a bit ridiculous, Xie Lian chewed in silence for a few moments. Then, he shook his head. “…then, if you’re hungry, I’ll also…”
He reached for the bowl, this time too quickly for Hua Cheng to mimic him, and grabbed another grape. Squeezing his eyes shut, he held it up over his shoulder.
“…”
Then—
There was the feeling of Hua Cheng leaning forward and taking it between his lips, prying it free with his teeth—and pressing a kiss into the still-curled thumb and index finger that had fed him.
Xie Lian quickly lowered the arm and drew it into his chest, his cheeks flushed, curling the fingers inward as though it had been stung.
“See?” Hua Cheng said slyly. “Isn’t it useful to have two arms?”
But then, suddenly, Xie Lian felt something else—and turned very, very red. Something beneath him was—
“What about two of that?” he mumbled.
In an instant, Hua Cheng was moving out from beneath him, practically spilling Xie Lian back onto the bed. “Sorry,” he said, seeming frustrated with himself. “That was my fault. Apologies, Your Highness, I didn’t notice until—”
“It’s really fine—”
“I won’t—”
“It’s fine,” Xie Lian said. He fiddled with his hands for a second. “Um. I did mean it, though, about wanting to…”
“I know,” Hua Cheng said abruptly.
They sat there in clumsy silence for a few moments. Then, Xie Lian mustered up his courage.
“If you want, it’s not that big a deal, I could…”
“No no, that’s not necessary,” Hua Cheng said quickly. “Not today. However…”
He gave a smile, clearly trying to be casual.
“If gege would like, I could show him something tomorrow.”
“Oh?” Xie Lian blinked curiously. “Like what?"