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Hua Cheng is eleven as he bounds up winding stone steps two at a time. The frigid winter air bites at his cheeks and nips at his fingers as he makes his way up the shrouded tiny library entrance. With gusto he pushes open the doors and dashes into the library, laughing quietly and shooting the head librarian an apology as he darts into the rows of shelves.
The familiar scent of ageing paper hangs in the air of the humble library - the only one in Hua Cheng’s quiet town. His tiny footsteps are muffled by the worn carpet underneath yet they are the loudest noise in the room all the same. At the ends of aisles in weathered armchairs at equally weathered tables sit grannies quietly flipping through yellowed newspapers and grandpas gripping wooden fans talking quietly amongst themselves. The elderly folk greet Hua Cheng warmly as he passes by and he bows his head slightly to each of them.
He trots down to the far end of the hall where lies his favourite spot. Though well-liked enough by the small rabble from school, Hua Cheng disliked staying there later than needed and preferred the quiet solace of the library in the early hours of the evening; he enjoyed the silent company of the lingering old folk and the air of well-loved books as he studied. His little alcove sits far from the central heater and is far too cold for the other patrons’ likings. Today, however, there sits an unfamiliar face.
A handsome stranger sits in silence, staring out the large windows with a pen dangling from his fingers and lips. The setting sun streams in from the window and illuminates the man’s elegant features, long hair dyed golden brown through the filtered sunlight. Messy sheaves of paper litter one half of the table. Hua Cheng, curious as ever, squints over as he pulls out a chair to sit but can’t make sense of the characters. While they seem to be Chinese, the characters are hardly any Hua Cheng recognizes.
The man turns to the scraping noise of the chair. His eyes flash in the light and he is silent for a moment. “Hello there.” He is soft spoken, but there’s something strong about the simple words spoken. This man is not townsfolk yet is somehow familiar to the boy all the same. A faint, trembling smile dances on the man’s lips.
Hua Cheng nods in acknowledgement.
The stranger hums as he dips his head and returns to his writings.
So the stranger isn’t a talkative one. Better than the grannies who don’t stop talking, Hua Cheng supposes. He rummages in his backpack and pulls out his various books and packages. It’s exam season. He has to do well this time around if he wants to make it into the middle school of his choice. Hua Cheng is a good student - one of the best in his school - but he wants to attend a more famous middle school out of town and so he has to be even better. The head librarian is a good man and for Hua Cheng has even extended library hours for this last month before Hua Cheng’s exams. He eyes the mock exam packets he’s brought with him today. Just a few more weeks, he tells himself.
The hours drip away as the sun sets and gives way to brilliant reds and purples. With a soft and distant click, click, click of the library door, the remaining patronage trickles out to return to warm homes and bright smiles. The lights of the library flicker on. Without the soft murmurs of the neighbourhood grandpas and grannies, the droning buzz of the generator interspersed with the shuffling of papers echo through the library. The quiet company of the stranger has kept Hua Cheng’s attention to his books for far longer than a usual day but the grumbling of his stomach called for a quick dinner break. Hua Cheng leans over and reaches for the assorted steamed buns in his bag. The spread of books before Hua Cheng became increasingly chaotic with each packet complete. Why must there be an exam for every subject? Could they not just combine everything into one? Hua Cheng runs a hand through shaggy black hair. Bun in hand, he leans back in his chair with an exhale to see the stranger across from him gathering loose leaf papers into a white messenger bag. Outside, stars dot the skies and the wind is still. Hua Cheng takes a bite of his cold bun.
“I’d best be on my way,” the man murmurs. Elegant fingers flip through his gathered sheets. He flips his bag close. “Heavens know I’ve broken enough rules already by being here today.”
Hua Cheng nods knowingly with a mouthful of steamed bun. This is where he comes when he’s broken rules or gotten into fights too. He swallows quickly to politely squeeze in a word before the man leaves. “Good night, gēge.”
The man pauses in his actions briefly, but long enough for Hua Cheng to notice. Was that too friendly? The strange man recovers and bids Hua Cheng good night before disappearing into the rows of shelves with muted footsteps.
With the remaining company gone Hua Cheng quickly becomes disinterested in his studies. He pushes back from the table with a yawn and checks the time on the fading screen of his flip phone. He decides to call it in for the night.
Hua Cheng bids old Mister Fu a good night and makes the note to bring the man a basket of fruit for his troubles the next time around. The library door clicks shut behind him. The night air is even colder and even more frigid and hastens Hua Cheng’s steps. Far behind him, the library lights flicker off as the head librarian closes for the night. It’s only as the front door of his home clicks behind him does he realize no door had sounded with the stranger’s departure.
---
Hua Cheng is seventeen on his way to cram school when he stops by the convenience store for snacks to eat later. As he walks in through the sliding glass doors his eyes land on a flustered-looking man rummaging through his pockets.
“I’m so sorry; I had a bill somewhere here. I’m sure it’s just deep in there,” the man stammers. Behind him stands a queue of impatient-looking customers, tapping their feet simultaneously. On the counter sit two bags of chips.
The clerk smiles apologetically. To her credit, her smile has hardly faltered with all of the man’s fussing. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the line so that I can help the next guest.” She waves a hand in the direction of the door, indicating for him to step aside.
Hua Cheng isn’t sure what comes over him. He steps forward to the clerk. “I’ll pay for him.” The panicking man darts his eyes to Hua Cheng, waving his arms as if to tell Hua Cheng not to.
“Of course. How would you like to pay today?”
Hua Cheng flashes his cell phone and taps it lightly against reader.
“Thank you for your patronage.” She waves for the next in line.
Hua Cheng steps aside and waits idly as the man gathers the two bags into his arms. As the man bows lightly, apologetic, to the clerk Hua Cheng feels a pang of déjà vu. Hua Cheng eyes the man from afar, taking in the man’s graceful limbs and long, flowing hair, standing slightly shorter than Hua Cheng. He wears an outfit of snow white from his cardigan to his jeans, with white bandages wrapping his neck and peeking out from the neckline. His handsome features are oddly nostalgic to look upon, with downturned eyes and a sloping nose, face thin and pointed. As Hua Cheng runs his mind through possibilities, dark eyes meet his own. The man jogs over.
“I can’t believe I made a teenager pay for my food! Thank you so much. I must have dropped my money somewhere along the way.” The man laughs sheepishly, light and airy. “They don’t have these where I’m from. If I didn’t get them today, I’d have to wait awhile before I could make another trip.” The brand was a common enough brand, found in most large supermarkets. Was the man a foreigner?
Hua Cheng smiles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
The man thrusts a bag into Hua Cheng’s hands. “I hope you like these chips. Please, take a bag. You did pay for it after all.” The man bows once more and hurriedly dashes before Hua Cheng can get a word in.
Standing suddenly alone by the entrance of the convenience store, Hua Cheng bursts out laughing. That was the man from the library! With the man no longer in sight he’s left with nothing more to do than to amble along to his cram school chip bag in hand. As Hua Cheng tears open the bag he bemusedly thinks about the strange man. The man seemed so much cooler when he was younger, had he not? A younger Hua Cheng had thought about the man for days on end, eventually convincing himself a fairy had come to keep him company while he studied.
As he chews away at the salty chips, something inside him tells him to buy steamed buns on his way home from school.
---
Hua Cheng is twenty-three when he is plagued recurring dreams of parades and golden masks. The hero of his dreams rides upon a gleaming sword, following extravagant floats as people look on joyously. A mischievous child looking to cause grief jumps over the ledge of the city walls only to land in soft arms. Red pearls and flowing black hair flash across his vision before bolting upright, awake and slicked with sweat. The dream is neither fearful nor unsettling, only leaving Hua Cheng with a deep longing as he wakes.
He dismisses the dream as having watched too many wuxia movies with a friend while drunk one night.
He sets about his morning routine in a tiny apartment, milling around until it’s time to depart for work. It’s been about a year since having graduated from university - a rare occurrence in his town considering most of his townsfolk went into work for nearby factories - and lives in a bustling urban centre away from home. The daily in and out monotonous tone of adult life has already settled into his young bones and though friends and fellow co-workers his age have set out looking to completely settle down, Hua Cheng feels incomplete.
The subway car rattles through dark tunnels, fluorescent lighting far too bright this early in the morning. The car is packed to the brim as morning rush hour progresses and Hua Cheng can feel the onset of a headache as remaining images of golden masks flash behind his closed eyes. The group of teenagers smushed next to him jostle around as they joke with one in their group. Annoyance flashes across Hua Cheng’s features.
“Is it too squishy for your highness?” A shove.
“Sorry, let’s make it a bit more comfy for you, your highness.” An elbow.
“Hey! Stop that! Ah, sorry mister.” A push.
“Look at what his highness did. So rude. Tut tut.” A nudge.
Hua Cheng is twenty-three, crammed into a subway car smelling of early morning sweat, being indirectly prodded at by a group of rowdy teenagers when he remembers Xie Lian like a slap to the face. Images of his past life flood into his mind as his eyes grow large. Bile rises in his throat. He needs to get out of this car. The car stops as the train pulls into the station; this isn’t his station but he needs to go, needs space, needs to process, needs to get out, needs to -
He follows the flow of people exiting the train and squirms his way out of the station to the surface level. A hand grasps for purchase and grounds himself against the railing by the side of the road while his other grips at his chest for dear life as he dry heaves by the roadside. His mind is a muddled mess of moving pictures as cyclists and pedestrians alike swerve around him, the bustle of the city behind him. Detached from his body his mind fits the final piece of the puzzle and distantly Hua Cheng feels complete.
A hand brushes against his shoulder. “Sir? Are you alright? Do you need me to call someone for you?” The voice is familiar enough, but not right.
Footsteps tap from a distance and grow closer. “Nan Feng? Is everything alright?” A second voice.
“This guy’s in some sort of pain.”
A third voice. “He isn’t dying. Let’s leave him and go; someone else will come eventually.”
“Fu Yao! What kind of heavenly official are you to say that?” A second hand rests on his shoulder and shakes Hua Cheng slightly. Though the throbbing in his head has subsided his breath is still staccato and heavy. The third voice shoos the other two off to buy water. “Sir? We’re getting you some water. Is it alright if I help you to the benches?” Hua Cheng blearily looks up, heart suddenly full and calmed, into the clear, worried eyes of Xie Lian.
Xie Lian freezes.
Hua Cheng chest rises and falls heavily as he tries to regain breath. “Your highness. Gēge.”
From the nearby vendor, Nan Feng shrieks inhumanely and Fu Yao drops a new bottle of water.
---
Xie Lian is well into his final ascension when he wakes with a start. His hands scrabble to grasp at the form beside him, pressing him down with a sleep-heavy arm. As his mind recalibrates slowly Xie Lian realizes the form is but his San Lang. Blearily he removes himself from Hua Cheng’s arms. It’s a wonder how the other man hasn’t been rudely woken up from Xie Lian’s earlier panic, his face an image of serenity and youthfulness in the darkness.
The digital clock by the bedside indicates the early hours of the morning, when the sun has hardly begun to rise. Xie Lian kicks his legs over the beside and sits in silence, scrubbing his face in an attempt to wake up.
Xie Lian is well over a millenia in age, nearing on two. It’s been centuries since he’s last dreamt of anything at all so of course luck would have it his first dream in so many years would be a nightmare. His eyes travel to Hua Cheng’s resting form. All things considered, the man was blessed with an excellent life this time around and in this time of relative peace he seems so much younger than in Xie Lian’s memories.
To chance upon Hua Cheng not once, twice, but thrice in the mortal realm is truly a testament to Hua Cheng’s good luck, Xie Lian muses, or perhaps his own shoddy luck. Each time Xie Lian managed to come across Hua Cheng it was because he managed to be transported far, far, away from his target destination. Perhaps it really was fate binding them together even in this next life of the other man.
Rebirth is a funny thing, Xie Lian thinks. Some are reborn as the small grass by the roadside, while others are flies that buzz overhead on hot summer days. Some are reborn completely different, both physically and mentally, while others are nearly identical to past selves. As fate would have it, Hua Cheng is a twin copy albeit with minor differences: the hard furrow on Hua Cheng’s forehead has been washed away with the cycle as have smatterings of freckles. Xie Lian is sure there are more if he properly examined the other man.
More importantly, Hua Cheng is human again.
Everyone is human once. But to be human is to be vulnerable and it is a short-lived experience. Xie Lian idly wonders if there are favors he can call in to have Hua Cheng ascend. Would that be ungodly?
In his musing Xie Lian hardly notices Hua Cheng rouse. From behind Hua Cheng drapes his larger form over Xie Lian, arms wrapping around slowly, and presses a kiss to the god’s temple. “Gēge,” Hua Cheng drawls.
Xie Lian jumps.
Hua Cheng moves down and rough lips brush against pale skin as he plants another soft kiss along the base of Xie Lian’s neck. “Good morning.” His voice is rough from disuse, mouth smelling of morning breath, face scratchy with beard growth, but in that moment Hua Cheng is so real - so very human - Xie Lian’s heart catches in his throat with waves of emotion.
“I’ve missed you, San Lang.” Xie Lian brings one of Hua Cheng’s resting hands to his lips. He murmurs, “I’ve missed you for so long.”
A lazy smile spreads across Hua Cheng’s face. “And I, you. Thank you for waiting for me.” There is a tone to Hua Cheng’s voice that Xie Lian has never been able to pinpoint but he has only heard under the seclusion of privacy. It makes him feel safe; it is his temple, his home. Warmth spreads through Xie Lian’s body.
“Oh, San Lang.” Xie Lian sighs happily, closing his eyes. “You waited for me for eight hundred years. For you, I’ll wait to the end of time.” He leans back into Hua Cheng’s warmth - something new. As a ghost, Hua Cheng was always frigid to the touch.
Hua Cheng makes a soft sound not unlike a cat hacking up a hairball and Xie Lian can’t help but laugh, pressing deeper into his arms. Hua Cheng coughs in recovery. Once he’s gained back some semblance of coolness, Hua Cheng says, “You’re up early today. Is something on your mind?”
Xie Lian purses his lips in thought. “I’m just afraid all my luck for the rest of this life went to meeting you again.” A mournful expression flits across Xie Lian’s face as he pulls away gently. “I’ll definitely get hit by a car within the next week.”
Hua Cheng bursts out into laughter. “I’ll just have to share my luck with you then, gēge.”
“And how exactly will you do that?”
Hua Cheng rests a hand on the troubled god’s face. His eyes twinkle mischievously. “I seem to remember something from the past that worked out pretty well,” Hua Cheng muses. He tilts his head in faux innocence. “Why don’t we try it out right now?”
Slow realization dawns as Xie Lian’s face lights up in flames. Time and rebirth really haven’t changed Hua Cheng’s nature one bit! Xie Lian squirms under Hua Cheng’s arms as he turns to face the younger man to protest. “San Lang, I don’t think spiritual energy and luck are the same-”
Hua Cheng tilts Xie Lian’s head to a comfortable angle and the god is cut short by the press of lips to his own. Ah, he thinks, this is what melting feels like. As Hua Cheng deepens the kiss Xie Lian can’t help but let the tension drain from his body. In this present, they have all the time in the world. Worries can be dealt with another day, Xie Lian thinks, San Lang is with me here. Now. And that’s all he really ever needed.