Work Text:
The museum, Hua Cheng tells himself, was Xie Lian's idea.
A new exhibit opened two weeks ago. Hua Cheng had been following the updates ever since it was announced three months ago. There are notifications to his email, his phone, his Twitter account. He has Yin Yu keep tabs on every piece available. He even drops hints to Xie Lian, a month before the exhibit drops. So when his husband suggests they go see it, the excitement Hua Cheng feels is real even if the surprise isn't.
Hua Cheng, usually, is more normal about upcoming shows, but this one is different. He Xuan had stopped by and dropped a flyer onto his desk, the image of an ornate statue of a god front and center. Everything about it is familiar. From the fall of the hair to the set of the eyes. From the blade of the sword to the flower blooms. From the curve of the smile he sees so frequently on his husband's face.
Perhaps that's what sparks his interest. This statue of Xie Lian is hardly his best (That one lies in Paradise Manor, now with a partner). The detail is fine, sure, but each statue is simply a mockery of his husband's true beauty. He's surprised the humans have taken such a liking to it. Hell, he's surprised they even found it.
So here they are, Xie Lian grappling with the map as Hua Cheng leads them through the various rooms of the National Museums of Guardians. The spaces are full of old relics from civilizations past, marking the worship of deities that are either long dead or simply changed form. When they see a statue of Mu Qing the other would have hated, he takes a picture to send to the group chat.
"We should be getting close," Xie Lian says. He bumps into Hua Cheng with a smile. "Are you ready, San Lang? I'm surprised you're taking this with as much grace as you are."
Hua Cheng grins and says, "I find this situation extremely amusing. This museum took in scraps, and people are lauding it? Man-kind truly appreciates the strangest of things."
The room the statue resigns in is fairly crowded when they arrive, but Hua Cheng skillfully navigates them to the front of the pack. All around him people are snapping pictures. Some people pose with the statue while security glares at anyone who gets too close. Hua Cheng snorts derisively, eyeing the seven-foot piece. He can still point out every imperfection, can find where his tools hesitated or he got too excited and chipped off more than necessary. The smile on this one is well carved, though, and the eyes are somewhat warm. He turns his head to Xie Lian, wrinkles his nose, and mutters, "It's just as horrible as I remember it being, Your Highness."
Whenever Xie Lian laughs, it's with his whole body. His shoulder shakes fiercely as he cackles and his knees wobble even when standing still. Sometimes he'll toss his head back, or completely collapse against the nearest object (usually Hua Cheng himself). His laugh is loud, and boisterous, and bright like a summer sunrise. Hua Cheng loves him for it the same way he loves Xie Lian for anything else.
This is how he laughs now, clutching to Hua Cheng's arm as his eyes shine like jewels. "You've always been your harshest critic, San Lang." Xie Lian beams up at him, taking his breath away. "I think it looks rather nice. You clearly put a lot of love and care into it."
There's something smug about his tone of voice that makes Hua Cheng smile back. "I'm glad there is something redeemable about this terrible piece, then. Perhaps I should purchase it from the museum for His Highness's safekeeping, hm?"
Again, his husband chuckles. "San Lang may do whatever he wishes with what he's created. Though, I'm unsure if he would appreciate such, in his words, a terrible piece in his distinguished manor." Xie Lian kisses his cheek, right beneath the eyepatch Hua Cheng has become accustomed to wearing. "I'm going to the bathroom. You stay here so I can find you once I return."
He frowns and opens his mouth to object, but Xie Lian fixes him with a stern look. He gestures to the sleeve of his jacket, where Ruoye lies in wait, and raises an eyebrow. Hua Cheng sighs. He knows his husband is brimming with spiritual energy and is far from defenseless. In fact, they might both have too much power in this day and age, but he still can't help but worry. "Make it quick, please. I'll come searching for you if more than 15 minutes pass."
Xie Lian nods and disappears into the sea of people. Hua Cheng follows the top of his head until it leaves the room, and then turns once again to the statue. He really, truly can't understand the fascination over it. To him, it's nothing but carved rock, a stepping stone to his greater piece and an attempt at staying sane. It's one statue of ten thousand; there are plenty that look nearly identical.
And yet.
He steps forward and uses the gentle commotion to brush a hand against the base, staying out of sight of the security guards. A zing of something rushes through him, fast and sharp enough that he pulls his hand away as if burned. Hua Cheng glares at the stone. "Lousy fucking rock," he spits, before turning on his heel. He'll go wait outside the bathroom for Xie Lian instead.
The bathroom nearby is crowded, so he waits. Fifteen minutes pass. When he peeks inside, there's no sign of his husband.
Hua Cheng takes a deep breath. He is not going to freak out about this, not around priceless artifacts. He looks for the second nearest bathroom, but Xie Lian isn't there either, nor is he in the next two bathrooms in the area. Things aren't looking pretty good for this statue of Hercules. Neither is this good for Hua Cheng's temper. He navigates back towards the exhibit where his stupid statue is, mind racing so fast that he doesn't realize he's going in circles until he passes the same fucking Hercules statue for the third time.
He's freaking out. He knows he's freaking out. For fuck's sake, he's just realizing that he hasn't seen another person in ten or so minutes. No patrons, no security guards, nobody. Hua Cheng starts to wander again. He needs to find this statue.
He needs to find his Xie Lian.
Almost as soon as he has the thought, something white catches out of the corner of his eye. Hua Cheng follows it instinctively, ducking around corners like his mind is on autopilot. His frantic steps echo loudly in the newfound quiet of the museum. They grow louder, more frantic as Hua Cheng practically sprints through the rooms.
"Your Highness!" He calls. "Your Highness, please come out!" He stands in the middle of the Norse section of the museum. Hallways spill out on either side, looking like they never end. There's no flutter of white. Hua Cheng's fingers flex. "Your Highness, please. I- This isn't a joke." He's going to rip this building apart piece by fucking piece.
Hua Cheng feels his powers surge around him, dangerous and deadly. A hoard of butterflies takes off, and suddenly he's seeing the museum halls from every angle. The lack of people worries him less and less. Who cares if the civilians have all filtered out? Why should he care that the staff is missing? Xie Lian is worth more than any of them, worth so much more that he never should've had to share air with such idiot creatures. Hua Cheng sneers.
Not here.
Not here.
Not there. Not there either.
He can feel himself unraveling. His blood sings with the temptation of violence and destruction, claws at his veins with the desperate need to locate his beloved.
Hua Cheng raises his arm, preparing to knock down the nearest wall. Something moves in his peripheral vision. He turns like a whirlwind with loose footing, and all the fight leaves his body in an instant. He gasps, "Your Highness?"
There stands his husband with a smile, looking just the way he had when he'd left. His jacket - the one he bought to match Hua Cheng - is folded over his left arm. Xie Lian grins. "My apologies, darling. I'm afraid I got lost on the way back." His chin-length hair flows softly as he looks around. "I…couldn't have been gone for that long, right?"
It takes everything in Hua Cheng to not break down in tears of relief. He breathes, a deep inhale, and offers his arm to Xie Lian, who takes it readily. "I'm afraid it's been quite longer than 15 minutes. Though, I can't tell you just how much time has passed."
"Ah." Xie Lian has the decency to look embarrassed. He scratches his face. "I apologize for making San Lang wait so long. Most of the guests seemed like they'd gone. At least we have more gallery space to ourselves." His mouth spreads into a smile bright enough to put a thousand suns to rest. "Shall we?"
Hua Cheng would give this man anything he asks for. He would render this building useless, would salt the earth where it stands, would buy every single artifact here if Xie Lian asked him to. And yet, his husband is so, so simple. He says nothing, only nods for Xie Lian to lead the way. Slowly and surely, Hua Cheng's formerly stressed psyche is putting itself back together.
Everything is right again. His beloved is standing beside him again, arm in arm. They're commenting on sculptures, ancient paintings and scrolls, and weapons that Hua Cheng watches his husband moon over. And his husband is there, safe, not a strand of hair out of place. There's nothing more Hua Cheng could ever ask for.
Well, maybe there's something.
Whenever Xie Lian thinks Hua Cheng isn't looking, his face falls blank. There's an ever-present crease between his brows. More than once, his grip on Hua Cheng's hand became too tight, almost as if Xie Lian were trying to dislodge his arm. There's something slightly different about his laugh, but Hua Cheng's willing to ignore it. Perhaps his husband is becoming tired, or even a bit hungry.
Hua Cheng smiles when Xie Lian stifles a yawn. "Would you like to leave soon, Your Highness? There are multiple places to eat around here I feel you would enjoy."
"Oh!" Xie Lian turns fully to face him, attention straying from a collection of godly portraits. "That sounds great! I would like to stop by the last weapons gallery if that's okay?"
"Anything you desire." Hua Cheng places a hand against his husband's cheek. "Is there anything particular that caught your eye? Anything you may want for yourself?"
He strokes Xie Lian's cheek as the other laughs, and pauses. There's a scar here that wasn't there before. Hue Cheng traces the foreign mark repeatedly. Of all the places on his body, Xie Lian's face has always stayed untouched. Even in his frugal years, Xie Lian always healed his face wounds. He once told Hua Cheng he didn't want to seem overly scary, and that simple face wounds always healed the easiest. (Hua Cheng believes it's slight vanity left over from his days of royalty, but he knows Xie Lian would never admit it, even if he were aware of it.)
Xie Lian's talking finally peters off. This close to his face, Hua Cheng sees the moment panic sets in. They stare at each other, neither one of them breathing, and Hua Cheng gains the sneaking suspicion that something happened to his husband. He pulls back, taking a slow step backward. Xie Lian attacks him with an ancient vase, and the shock is enough to knock Hua Cheng on his ass. His husband - is this really his husband? - pins him to the ground, hands closing tightly around his neck.
Hua Cheng doesn't need to breathe, but he struggles to anyway, eye wide. This fake stares down at him with pure hatred. Xie Lian has never looked at him this way, with his lip curled in such vindictive pleasure and eyes burning with bloodlust. Hua Cheng flexes his fingers. He could move if he wanted to. Xie Lian isn't even using his full strength.
Something about that hurts him. His beloved, His Highness, has deemed Hua Cheng unworthy of his companionship, and now, in an attempt to kill him, refuses to use any unnecessary energy to end his existence.
There's a shout from somewhere nearby, and the face above him crumbles, falling away with the pressure around his neck. He gasps and coughs in a way that's disgustingly human. When he looks up, Xie Lian is there. Again. The man falls to his knees in front of Hua Cheng, coddling him and cupping his face with the same hands that were around his neck. "San Lang! San Lang, can you hear me?"
He nods. If Hua Cheng had a pulse, it would be fluttering violently. Everything inside him is turning goopy with His Highness' hands on his face. He wants to relax, smile, and be taken care of by his husband so badly it aches. Yet something inside him keeps his spine stiff and eyes searching.
This coldness, this suspicion, tears Hua Cheng to shreds. Not once has he ever been unsure of his beloved. These hands feel like his. The voice is just as pitchy, the eyes just as observing. And this looks like Xie Lian.
But so did the other thing.
For centuries, Hua Cheng swore he could find his prince in any situation. Never did he consider these near-perfect copies to be an issue. He can't afford to be anything but skeptical from now on. He needs to find his husband, his real one. Until then, each version of Xie Lian is to be held at arm's length, and he'll continue to play his role until each fake is exposed and subsequently dealt with. He will be vigilant, and calm, and the pinnacle of self-control until it kills him.
So Hua Cheng steels himself and smiles, scripted, at the worry. He allows this potential fake to help him up, pressing deeply into the callouses of this Xie Lian's hands. He finds ways to play with this Xie Lian's hair, testing the quality, the realness of it.
There has to be some sort of power signature.
When they go to leave the room, Hua Cheng pretends to stumble, breathing in Xie Lian's scent. He's searching for anything off, for something distinctly demonic, but there's nothing off about Xie Lian's scent. He smells like lemon soap and laundry detergent. Disappointed, he quickly waves away the mother-henning. "I'm alright, Your Highness. Come. I think both of us could benefit from something to eat."
They find a vending machine near the elevators a few halls down. Xie Lian insists on paying. Hua Cheng pretends to rest on a nearby bench. He closes his eye, discreetly summoning a butterfly to survey the scene. He sees Xie Lian buy the snacks. That blank look is on his face, identical to the copy he killed. This Xie Lian walks back towards Hua Cheng, holding a can of soda and a bag of chips. All normal things his husband would usually do.
He opens his eyes when the fake stands in front of him. "Thank you," he says, smiling carefully. "You shouldn’t have wasted your energy on me, Your Highness."
Xie Lian says, ”There’s nothing wasteful in buying us snacks.” He presses the can of soda into Hua Cheng’s hand. “You have some first, San Lang.”
Hua Cheng smiles softly. Logically, he knows nothing could have happened to the drink. It was a sealed can, freshly open. And this Xie Lian is looking at him with such insistence, with the glittering, expectant eyes of a doting husband. Hua Cheng knows that role better than any other. He says, "Gege, this one is would be honored to accept such generous offerings."
The soda is fizzy and sweet in his mouth. The clone watches with rapt attention as Hua Cheng drinks, and he, in turn, keeps his expression clear once he hands the can back. "Danxia is always so kind. I'll treat you to a meal thrice as large as this one." He grins, wide and toothy and as in love as he can manage. The back of his throat burns with the curse that Hua Cheng knew the clone had slipped into the can, but he keeps his expression light and pleasant. He doesn't know what the poison is meant to do. He must keep his cards against his chest.
This Xie Lian plays the part of bashful very well. He doesn't sit, just stands before Hua Cheng as if waiting for something. When reminded of the snacks they purchased, the clone eats and drinks. Hua Cheng narrows his eyes. His powers are thick and slowing beneath his skin. It takes millennia of forced patience to not rend this thing's flesh from its bones.
The clone finishes and the two of them share a look. Something quick flashes in its eyes, and Hua Cheng barely registers the kiss to his lips. His qi is sluggish; the clone can sense it too, and the window to act is closing sure and fast.
The air between them stutters. The imposter moves but Hua Cheng, even at an eighth of his power, is faster. They stumble onto the floor, qi focusing in his hands as he grabs the clone by the hair, pinning the monster in place by the throat.
The clone's eyes go wide. Its hands flutter between the one in its hair and the other on its throat. "San Lang," it gasps. "San Lang, what're you doing?" The voice trembles, thick with tears. "Why're you hurting me, San Lang?"
This thing sounds so much like Xie Lian, and Hua Cheng dies a little. Blood fills his mouth from how hard he's biting his tongue, but he doesn't move. Hua Cheng is searching, desperately, for a reason to not go along with this. This is his husband beneath him, crying from fear and pain, pleading for mercy. It takes everything in him to not grovel and apologize, to not forfeit his own life for this fake. He's so close to tipping; the poison is nearly complete in shutting down his powers, and what he's doing goes against everything Hua Cheng lives for. He scans the figure again, and this time he finds it - the slope of the nose is off, too angular for Xie Lian's face. Hua Cheng's resolve locks in quick.
The clone seems to notice too, as it thrashes wildly in his grip, making Xie Lian's face contort in ugly, black anger. "You're pathetic," it spits. "You think you're going to get out of this? You think you'll find your disgraceful husband again?" Xie Lian's face grins, eyes alight in such a sickening pleasure. "You'll go insane and kill yourself before that happens."
Soon, the chattering stops. The clone's head arcs in the air and falls to the ground behind him with a deafening thud. The body disintegrates piece by piece until he's finally sitting on cool, firm ground. The echoes in the room are too loud. The silence is too quiet.
With long fingers, Hua Cheng retches whatever had been put inside him onto the floor. He sits there - either for minutes or hours - until his qi circulates slick and powerful in his veins just the way it should.
He stands and turns from the room, letting his steps carry him further and further away. Hua Cheng will find the one responsible for this. When he does, the things he'll do will be worse than anything he himself has ever experienced.
----
The museum seems to get bigger the longer Hua Cheng wanders through it. Scratch that- he knows it’s grown. Whatever creature is responsible for this has finally let their array play out. The museum is a maze of twisting halls and disappearing entrances. Hell, he's not even sure if this is the museum anymore. The look is similar, sure, and many of the original statues are there. After a point, though, all the art becomes his statues. The ones that kept his sanity in check.
All of these clones are just his statues from the Kiln. He questioned it before because the Kiln was lifetimes ago, but nothing else makes sense. He knows each of these imperfections, was plagued by them as he carved statue after statue of his salvation. He would remember them anywhere, the way he remembers everything regarding his beloved god. And he has an insistent, nagging feeling that the cause of this mess is the stupid fucking piece the museum dredged up.
Another clone will ever appear ever so often. Each time they attempt to woo and fawn over Hua Cheng. Sometimes their imperfections are easier to spot. Others are nearly perfect, only revealing themselves by making their murderous intent present. Hua Cheng kills them all without mercy.
The worst part of it all is how much Hua Cheng misses Xie Lian. His Xie Lian, not these sorry excuses of him. Every piece of his soul aches for his god, for Xie Lian's kindness, for his gentle hands and loving voice. For his body, scarred and perfect and right in the way Hua Cheng remembers, the way he actively committed each plane of his husband's body to memory. Without his god, Hua Cheng feels lost; untethered. Desolate like he did in those 800 years after Xian Le's fall.
He hates it.
One of his butterflies glimpses another clone. Hua Cheng sighs as he turns into yet another dead end. "I can't fucking believe this". At this rate, he's going to be cornered. Hua Cheng takes a deep breath and counts down from 100 to mentally prepare, but he sees something strange. There's another clone coming from another passageway. Hua Cheng's sure that he's wrong at first, but he watches the two creatures meet up at a cross-section. They nod to each other, and head down another hall, retracing his steps.
Hua Cheng scatters his vision further, splitting his butterflies as far as he can while keeping his strength. There are hordes of Xie Lians gathering together, upturning rooms searching for him. When the groups meet, they converge to continue their search. At least ten of them are headed in the right direction. Sure, he's strong and all-powerful, but Hua Cheng has been fighting for hours now. He doesn’t think he can mentally handle killing another faux god.
He's got to get out of here.
Hua Cheng bolts back up the hall, cozying close to corners as he tries to navigate away from the swarm. His vision stretches thin as he tracks his steps before taking them. Multiple times he is forced to backtrack as a couple of clones become too close. He counts their steps, holds his breath, and leaves when they turn corners.
The museum - the labyrinth - continues to grow around his panicked fleeing. Shoot-off paths become few and far in between. Hua Cheng is being led somewhere now. He knows this, and he knows he should be heading in any other direction, but the clones have caught on now. They've all come together and are traveling, steady and blank-faced, toward his exact location. Going forward at least leaves some hope of escape.
Between his breaths and his running and his desperate tracking, Hua Cheng barely registers the doors at the end of the long hall. It stretches tall above him, gilded in gold and precious jewels and a painting Hua Cheng had done long ago despite the original being on red earth walls. He doesn't stop to stare at it too much; whatever beast that created this place is clearly targeting him, and he stopped being affected about 20 faux-Danxias ago. He slams the doors open.
The room he steps into is cavernous. Nothing about this space pretends to be a museum. The walls are bare, the floors dirt, an everywhere he looks is dimly lit with yellow light Hua Cheng can't find the source of it. There's no end to how high the ceilings are. In the stark center of the room, cordoned off by red dividers and trapped in place by that dreaded statue, is his Danxia. Xie Lian looks beat up and dirty, but his smile spells salvation. Hua Cheng drops to his knees in front of him, only stopped by the velvet cords surrounding the statue. He breathes out "Danxia" barely above a whisper. Tears well up in Xie Lian's eyes.
"You're finally here, San Lang," says Xie Lian and touches his hand to empty air.
Hua Cheng meets his palm. A surge of power ripples through the barrier set, but it doesn't shatter as he expects. He tries again, but the trap bites back. The sickly chi that filled him earlier brushes against his aura once again, and he retracts his hand on instinct. "You can't escape?"
His husband shakes his head. "I'm afraid I've been poisoned. My abilities aren't completely gone, but I can't quite access them." He smiles, pained. "I apologize. This situation hasn't happened to either of us in quite some time."
They've poisoned his god. They've done harm to his god. Hua Cheng's jaw clenches. He hears the horde of steps approaching the room, and he stands up with a deep sigh. He watches as the clones surround him and His Highness. Some of them are taunting him, smiling and mocking.
He's beheaded ten of them before their circle closes.
An endless stream of bodies drops to the floor. Hua Cheng is vicious in his moves and merciless in his deaths. It's been too long since someone has dared to ambush him, and he's still sluggish from earlier. Even so, none of them stand a chance. The group of clones dwindles slowly but surely. The last three have the nerve to go after Xie Lian. Only one of them reaches the barrier. Hua Cheng watches it shatter. He watches his as the imposter grabs at his husband, and the next moment his god is safe in his arms, the fake's body falling to pieces behind them. The chunk of chest Hua Cheng had ripped out turns to silt and falls between his fingers. He's breathing heavily. His god is okay.
Xie Lian's hand cups Hua Cheng's cheek, stroking just below his eyepatch. He breathes in the power welling beneath his husband's skin. He says, "You're safe," and Xie Lian just nods. Hua Cheng pulls Xie Lian into his arms. The two sit there. Hua Cheng slowly starts to forget about the musty, crude room they're in. He's got his god now. They can go home and stay there for the next millennia if need be. Xie Lian's arms tighten around him. He holds the man closer in turn.
"I searched for you the entire time," Hua Cheng whispers. He clenches the sweater tightly, fingering every stitch. "I can't believe they had the audacity to lay a hand on you, to poison you."
Xie Lian’s fingers run through his hair and he presses a kiss atop his head. “You’ve always been such a brave fighter,” he coos. Hua Cheng can’t help but lean into his touch. “I was so worried, but I knew San Lang would be safe.”
“I didn’t know you would be,” admitted Hua Cheng. “I was terrified that someone hurt you.” The adrenaline that fueled him is now syrupy In his veins. Xie Lian is here. Xie Lian is here. That’s all he’s ever needed.
Xie Lian hums and strokes Hua Cheng’s back. “Nobody can hurt me, San Lang.” The hand in Hua Cheng’s hair tightens. His head is jerked back, mind dazed as he stares up at his god. His perfect, benevolent god. When their eyes meet, he finds no benevolence in his god’s gaze.
He’s seen this look enough that Hua Cheng knows it’s a clone. The second most perfect statue of His Highness that Hua Cheng has ever created in the kiln. The eyes are just right, looking kind and sweet even in their murderous rage. The smile is sweet and lovely and inviting. Even with his hands around Hua Cheng’s neck, he can’t find it in himself to lift a finger. He doesn’t even remember his back hitting the ground.
Hua Cheng coughs, and struggles, laying a hand atop the ones on his neck. “So, you must be the one responsible for this.” He flexes his fingers, attempting to slip them in between the hands and his throat. “Mind telling me what the fuck your problem is?”
There’s a hum of power in the air. The clone does his best to sneer with this face, but even then it comes off as a pitying look. “It’s been millennia, so I wouldn’t expect you to remember,” it says. It flips hair over its shoulder with a flourish. “Only ironic that I’d remember the beast who slaughtered my family- no, my entire village- for some simple fun.” It slams Hua Cheng against the floor. “You’re a tricky person to track down, you know that?”
“If I kept track of every village I decimated then I’d never be at peace,” Hua Cheng snarks. He presses a hand against the face of his not-husband. It’s just enough to create some distance.
The clone sniffs, but its smile is unmoving. "Truly the only thing you care for is this disgraced god you call your husband." They meet nose to nose. Hua Cheng can taste the bitterness of its breath as it smiles against his lips. "I've run you ragged, haven't I? Such a gullible ghost should never be this strong."
Hua Cheng wants to spit. He wants to jolt up and pound this lousy spirit into the ground. He flexes his fingers. They curl into tight fists, but he knows he can't follow through. The asshole has the nerve to smirk at him.
"What? Can't you kill me? You've destroyed those others so easily." Its eyes go wide in mock confusion.
Hua Cheng says, "You know what you've done," like the words are acid in his throat.
The clone chuckles and bares its teeth. Even something this threatening looks gentle. He truly outdid himself. "It only makes sense to hit you where it hurts. I know you can't kill me." The clone laughs, loud, melodious and so, so painful to his heart. It sits up and completely rolls off of Hua Cheng. "In fact, here, I'll give you an advantage."
He blinks as he sits up, the ghost of fingers lingering on his neck. Some sick part of him misses them. He quickly rises from the ground, taking ten steps back. "What are you playing at?"
Open arms await him from across the room. His husband's face is as sweet as he remembers. It makes him sick. "You'd never harm your precious god, so I'm going to give you some help. I'll stand here for ten seconds. Do you think you can do it? Can you kill your god? Can you kill me?"
"Shut up!" The word slips out without him realizing it.
The clone just smiles and turns around. "Ten seconds! Starting now."
Hua Cheng manages three steps forward before his body locks into place. He could kill this imposter in half a second on a good day. On a day like that, his Xie Lian would be here with him, and they'd take this demon out together.
Today, Hua Cheng decides, is the second worst day of his life.
"Six seconds."
He has to move. He has to. He knows this is the only way Xie Lian will come back.
"Four seconds."
Or…is it? Hua Cheng has been running through tunnel after tunnel, from room to room to stupid fucking room in this museum. He's killed more Xie Lians than he ever wanted to. If this continues any longer, he's not sure what will happen to him.
"Two seconds left."
It takes everything in him to crouch low and dangerous. Hua Cheng holds his breath and closes his eyes. He can't watch this.
"One-"
The voice cuts off with a choked sound as Hua Cheng collapses to the ground. Turns out, despite being the main body, this clone is just as weak as the others. Whatever he grabbed falls to mush in his hands, and he flings it away with disgust. He doesn’t open his eyes.
The aura of the museum is lighter. He hadn't realized how oppressive the spirit's powers were until now. Hua Cheng feels around with his qi. There's nothing harmful. He falls forward, lying flat on the floor. He can rest now.
"San Lang? Is that you?"
No. No no no nononono! How did it survive?
Soft steps come closer and closer. Hua Cheng will not go through this again. He will not.
His resolve is settled before he rises from the floor. He spots the Xie Lian 10 yards away, and he lunges.
He's expecting it to attack him. Hell, he's expecting it to at least dodge. But in the split second before he goes in for the kill, Hua Cheng sees understanding and love on the clone's face.
Hua Cheng watches the fake welcome his death with open arms, and he stops just short, hand pressing over the god's heart.
"You're real?" It's not meant to come out as a question.
Xie Lian only nods and smiles his small, private smile just meant for Hua Cheng. "I've been looking for you, San Lang," he says. "I'm so glad I've found you.
Hua Cheng wants to cry despite not having shed a tear in millions of years. He wants to say something else, but he can't. He only stares up at his god, at his salvation, hands gripping a white sweater he's seen too many times today.
Xie Lian cups his face and kisses his forehead. Ruoye wriggles out from Xie Lian's sleeve and presses against Hua Cheng's face. "Come on, San Lang. Let's go home."