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Snow was drifting down from the pure white sky, where somewhere above stood the Heavenly Capital which was far warmer than the mortal plains he was currently standing on.
With his gaze turned upwards, he could see the icy drops flowing downward in a languid pace as though they held not a clue of the suffering that was currently tormenting the long-dead heart of a ghost, chilled by the surrounding air and the sight in front of him.
Nothing was out of the ordinary. What stood before, or rather below him as he was sitting on the second floor of a restaurant his companion had insisted on dragging him to half an incense time ago, was simply a thick blanket of snow covering the land they had traversed through a moment ago to reach their current location – a simple diner.
There was no howling of wind in his ear, or perhaps he had swallowed the storm into his stomach and it was currently wreaking havoc in his mind, as there was only silence greeting him and the pure white in front of him.
No, silence wasn’t the correct way to describe his surroundings. Only it was his thoughts and memories from long-gone days of torture which had successfully drowned out the cheerful peals of laughter from patrons below, along with the persistent whining of “Ming-xiong” from across the table.
The scene in front of him was of such a pure colour, not even tainted by the slightest hint of dirt as this was the first snow of the year which had begun to gather since the night before. Yet all he could see was an image imposed on his vision from a decade ago, of fresh crimson blood splattered across the field as far as the eye could see, corpses of stubborn ghosts who refuse to disperse just yet crawling up to glare at him with nothing but madness and hatred in their burning gaze, along with the same determination which was etched onto his very features.
To one day break out of there, out of the hell which was Mount Tonglu, and become the new Ghost King.
The heat in their eyes could only ever be superficial; never truly there. No matter how furious they were, the burning passion and resentment in their minds could never reach their skin, which should’ve been as easy as breathing if they were the living. No matter how much they bled, none of the puddles could make even a dent in the snow. The blood of the undead would never again be capable of melting away the frost which had gathered over their hearts.
If He Xuan dared breathe in, if he dared maintain the illusion of breathing, he was sure he would smell the sickly sweet scent of iron from the unfortunate victims who had crossed his path from back then before he ultimately devoured their entire being, both body and soul.
It had been over a decade already, and yet the sight and smell still clung on to his senses as though inseparable, as though they could never be washed away by the tides he controlled, whether he kept his ability hidden under the hard shell which was “Ming Yi’s” skin or not.
“Ming-xiong…”
How long had Shi Qingxuan called out his fake name? He couldn’t tell, but he couldn’t get out of his head either.
“Ming-xiong, you don’t look too well.”
Of course he didn’t. He was as dead as a ghost could be.
Eventually, the ceaseless calls of concern stopped and were replaced by the sloshing of wine in a ceramic jar and the soft clink of a cup being set down on the table, so soft it would be obvious to anyone observing that Shi Qingxuan was troubled by He Xuan’s current state of mind.
In the end, they continued to sit in silence, one sipping on alcohol to occupy himself with something other than worry, another staring down at the stretch of snow unmoving, as though time had stopped and He Xuan could do nothing to drag himself back up from the waters he was sinking into, deeper and deeper though there’s still no end in sight.
He wondered if he would ever be able to escape from this agony as the water pressure continued to grow and push him down.
No , He Xuan convinced himself and he knew it was true. He would never surface again. Neither in this life, nor the next, or the one after. So he drowned and drowned and drowned, and sunk all living beings who dared cross into his territory so he wouldn’t be so alone in his suffering. Even if it were mere minutes or seconds before his victims fell to eternal slumber, he wished to feel less alone in his misery for just a moment.
“He-xiong! You came again today!” Shi Qingxuan exclaimed as he rushed away from the group of beggar children who were gathering in front of his house to listen to his stories. Though the tales were outrageous to every sensible adult in the capital, even the children were sometimes hesitant to believe them. Nonetheless, they continued to visit Shi Qingxuan when they were free and listened to his stories of days long gone as a form of entertainment.
One of He Xuan’s eyebrows was raised in slight amusement. He couldn’t stop himself from remarking, “You say that every day.”
To prevent scaring away the mortals living on the same street as Shi Qingxuan, and initially to decrease the chances of terrifying the fallen Wind Master as well, He Xuan always visited with a mask of life. His skin was pale, but not coloured to be as pale as that of death. His hands were cold, but not as cold as the chill of lakes in winter. The mask made him slightly resemble his Ming Yi skin, and yet different in that none of his natural features were adjusted to hide his identity, only his status as a ghost. It closely resembled what he once looked like as a mortal before a never-ending nightmare was forced upon him.
Shi Qingxuan raised his functional hand to shoo away the kids and hobbled over, grabbing his walking stick which was leaning against the ill-maintained walls of his hut as he went. When he reached out to tangle his arm in He Xuan’s elbow, the Ghost King did not pull away or breathe out a sigh, merely tightening the hold to make sure the former god would not fall.
“And like I say every day, I still can’t believe you would willingly come and see me. So let me savour this pleasant surprise for as long as possible!” Shi Qingxuan exclaimed before adding in a whisper, head tilting towards the Ghost King, pausing for an instant, before leaning hesitantly on He Xuan’s shoulder, “At least until I can be sure you won’t leave me again. Let me be surprised every time, and not expect but be disappointed at the end.”
He Xuan was silent for a while before he raised his free hand to pet Shi Qingxuan’s hair. “I’ll visit daily.”
A gentle reassurance, a promise spoken from a mouth which refused to utter a lie to his beloved person ever again. A small smile decorating the lips of one who used to let out boisterous laughter. Uncertain, wavering, but willing to give another chance though it may well be a losing gamble.
An almost bitter laugh slips out from the broken god. “I don’t want to hope.”
“You don’t have to. Whether you hope or not, I’d still do the same thing.”
Shi Qingxuan looked up, only to find He Xuan’s sincere gaze directed at him as the silver jewelry hanging from his ears swayed gently with the pleasant wind. Lips slightly parted, he was stunned for a good moment before smiling once more, almost shyly.
I guess I’ll hold you to that promise then, one day.
“So, where are we going today?” Shi Qingxuan asked with a slight glint in his emerald eyes.
“You’ll see,” He Xuan answered as he returned his gaze forward to properly guide the former Wind Master.
The walk towards the outskirts of the Imperial Capital was peaceful. Once in a while, Shi Qingxuan would break the serene silence around the pair to chatter away about this or that, about the granny he helped months ago who handed him a warm bowl of plain congee that morning, or a new trick one of the beggar children showed him once they had arrived at his little shack. All the while, He Xuan listened and hummed his acknowledgement, though the tone no longer carried his feigned indifference from bygone days. Instead, it held a hint of fondness, though the fallen god hesitated to interpret it as so.
Eventually, Shi Qingxuan noticed the visible puffs of air he was letting out and playfully huffed out a few more, until He Xuan’s palm came up to cover his mouth with a frown and a chiding to keep the warmth in his body as he was now mortal and could easily become sick.
Shi Qingxuan removed the loose hand from his face with a grin. “It hadn’t been this cold in the capital before, He-xiong! I wonder if we’ll finally get to see some snow here this year!”
As He Xuan’s hand retreated from Shi Qingxuan’s face, it brushed away a loose strand of hair which had fallen out from the former Wind Master’s bun to behind his ear, the skin of the shell tinged slightly red. The hand lingered for a moment longer than necessary, but it seemed as though the receiver of such unapparent affection didn’t notice. The Ghost King merely shrugged at his comment and continued to guide him forward, though now they held each other's hand and laced their fingers together.
An incense time later, the pair arrived at the edge of the forest surrounding the Imperial Capital. As He Xuan lightly tugged at Shi Qingxuan’s hand to guide him towards a large tree, the former Wind Master followed along without a word of protest and with a soft smile on his lips. This particular tree provided a good shade, and when He Xuan sat down to recline against the trunk before pulling Shi Qingxuan along to sit directly in front of him and lean against his figure, the former Wind Master realized it would also afford them some privacy.
He-xiong definitely came here beforehand to find a good spot before bringing me here, Shi Qingxuan contemplated as he relaxed his weight onto the Ghost King hesitantly.
“He-xiong, why are we here?” Shi Qingxuan tilted his head upwards to ask.
“You’ll see,” He Xuan replied as he tentatively wrapped his arms around the fallen god’s waist.
At the unexpected action, Shi Qingxuan’s eyes widened in surprise before a blush reached his face to decorate his cheeks as he further reclined into the one-sided embrace.
Clingy . He thought briefly to let the word tumble out of his mouth before he pressed his lips harder to seal it shut. The last thing he wanted was to destroy this rare moment of affection initiated by the elusive and somewhat shy Ghost King.
It took another half an incense time for Shi Qingxuan to truly melt into He Xuan’s hold. By the time he had grown comfortable and dangerously close to falling asleep in the secure embrace, it was with a single drop of something cold and damp which had landed on the mortal’s nose that snapped his attention back to reality.
Water…? WAIT!
Shi Qingxuan shot upright, but the sudden action caused a sharp pain to travel up his bad leg and he hissed out in response.
“Why can’t you be more careful?” He Xuan exhaled an incredulous sigh as he admonished the fallen god. Moving one of his hands lower, he tapped a featherlight touch on Shi Qingxuan’s broken limb and sent a steady stream of spiritual power into the former Wind Master’s body, effectively lessening the pain to a mere dull ache.
However, Shi Qingxuan couldn’t spare any attention towards the Ghost King’s scolding. Faced with a sight he had missed so dearly from his days of undeserved godhood when he could easily persuade his dearest best friend to teleport them up north to where snow would steadily begin to gather during early winter days, the former Wind Master’s eyes could only widen in delight upon witnessing the tranquil snowfall he had missed so much.
Swirling snowflakes floated down languidly from the expansive sky, as though they were not in a hurry to traverse the mortal realm in search of a destination, as though their only purpose was to merely exist. Slowly, they began to land on the vast field situated in front of the pair, dusting the view of brown and lifeless grass with specks of white.
“This is the first time it’s snowed since I came here! He-xiong, did you purposely bring me out of the capital to watch this?” Shi Qingxuan grinned up at He Xuan, the smile widening upon perceiving whatever expression the Ghost King held on his face. His eyes turned into little crescents as he whispered, “You did, didn’t you? I knew you did. Thank you, He Xuan.”
Faced with such a sincere response and blinding smile, He Xuan could only turn his head away and tighten the hold he had around Shi Qingxuan’s waist.
“Mm.”
It was a soft and almost indifferent response. Despite the seeming lack of concern He Xuan held, the former god could see through his thin layer of façade and recognize his satisfaction in the easing of broad shoulders which were usually as stiff as stone.
“He-xiong~, you don’t have to hold me so tight,” Shi Qingxuan teased.
“You’re going to be cold otherwise.” He Xuan answered by readjusting his sleeves to better wrap around the mortal’s stature.
Truthfully, the Ghost King’s mind was somewhere else. In the distant past centuries ago, the mere sight of snow would cause He Xuan to think back to the times he was stuck in the depths of hell which was Mount Tonglu, be reminded of the way all that was within his line of sight was snowy grounds drenched in the blood of the undead. Back then, his heart had felt so cold and numb with such a horrific sight being his first introduction to snow as he had only lived in the south in the past, in his hometown of Fu Gu and the ocean that extended beyond the coast where snow had never so much as touched down upon those very grounds, not even flurries. The image of supposed pure white he had only ever read about in his studies was tainted with nothing but blood. No matter what he did, the Ghost King could never wash away the image of massacre from under his eyelids. And yet with the warmth and radiance Shi Qingxuan had shed into his unlife, He Xuan had slowly learned to associate the arrival of winter and snow with the bright smile of the Wind Master and the childish wonder in his eyes.
That was until the Ghost King had executed his revenge and the icy petals which fell over his island with a blizzard in response to the coldness and hollowness of his heart had reminded him of the bloody memories that used to emerge with the appearance of snow. It was only after everything had transpired that he realized the importance of Shi Qingxuan in his life.
The snowstorm from back then which had greeted his territory was now gone. Compared to the tempest which had wreaked havoc upon his waters, the sight of languid snow drifting down peacefully matched the currents of his heart now.
“He-xiong, come back. Your mind’s floating away from here and into the ghost realm again,” Shi Qingxuan reminded softly as he tapped on the Ghost King’s arm to redirect his attention.
It was effective. The former Wind Master could feel the moment He Xuan snapped back to reality and his figure melted against Shi Qingxuan’s back.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Shi Qingxuan asked with a gentle tone of concern as he reached up to brush a hand against He Xuan’s cheek to capture a snow petal which had landed on the cold skin.
He Xuan paused for a moment before tentatively shaking his head. “Not now.” He didn’t want to ruin this moment for the fallen god, but he promised himself privately to one day disclose his experience to Shi Qingxuan.
One day…
The pair of mortal and ghost sat under the thick branches providing them with a comforting shade for another incense time. When Shi Qingxuan was sitting in silence and observing the snow as he tilted his head back to rest against He Xuan’s firm stature, the Ghost King decided to focus on the few flakes which had landed on the former Wind Master’s hair. The simple activity of observing the intricate patterns of snow provided his mind with a peace he hadn’t possessed in so long. Together with the love of his unlife wrapped in his arms, he finally felt something close to a tingle of warmth ignite in his chest.
“Qingxuan, we should head back. The snow should be ending soon. You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here after it’s done snowing.” He Xuan finally broke the enduring silence settled over the pair for the past while.
“Eh~ He Xuan, I’m not that weak, you know? I want to stay for a bit longer,” Shi Qingxuan whined and pouted, puffing up his cheeks in a childish manner as he looked up towards the Ghost King.
“We’re going,” He Xuan said with an air of finality and stood up from where he was sitting leaning against the trunk of the sturdy tree, before taking a few long steps towards the direction of the capital.
“Fine fine fine! I’m coming! He-xiong~, don’t leave me!” the former god shouted as he picked up his walking stick and jogged a few steps to reach He Xuan’s side. When he pulled on the Ghost King’s sleeve to indicate his presence, He Xuan turned around to stare at him. Even though they had been separated for a few years and the Supreme finally wore his true face rather than one crafted to fit a false identity, Shi Qingxuan could still clearly see the unconcealed glint of amusement in He Xuan’s eyes and the way his figure softened upon noticing Shi Qingxuan’s light tug.
Seeing the minute reaction from the Ghost King, Shi Qingxuan’s eyes widened before a small smile reached his lips.
“He-xiong, stay for the night?” he asked in a whisper laced with a hint of hesitation, as though the former Wind Master was afraid his request may be rejected by the other.
Before He Xuan could so much as open his mouth to respond, Shi Qingxuan began to ramble.
“Ah! You probably have things to do. What am I asking? Why did I even ask?! You usually leave by night so you definitely have something to attend to. You’re a ghost king so of course you’re busy–!”
“Qingxuan.” He Xuan snapped Shi Qingxuan out of his babbling with a simple utterance of his name. He turned to give a light squeeze to Shi Qingxuan’s hand which was still holding onto his robes.
“Let’s go. It’s going to get cold.”
Even though the Ghost King did not directly answer the former Wind Master’s question, Shi Qingxuan could immediately discern his response from the gentle tone he used to urge the fallen god home.
Together, the warm fingers of a mortal wrapped around the cold hand of a ghost, the pair traversed the roads dusted with specks of snow and returned to the Imperial Capital. For as many ice petals decorating their vicinity, they held as many memories together spanning decades and centuries. The blood stretching between the two whose fates will forever be entangled may never be washed away, but one day they will surely look back to see how far they have continued to walk despite the scars they carried.
Together, with their beloved who was connected at the other end of their red string of fate.