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Xie Lian was alerted to the return of his companion by the opening of the door.
“You’re back!” he greeted cheerfully, turning to look. “You were gone for a while.”
Wuming closed the door and lifted a large fistful of dirty green stalks. “I found onions.”
Xie Lian clapped his hands together with genuine glee. He was so tired of pickles. Spring couldn’t come soon enough. “That’s great! Come, give me some, I’ll put them in our dinner tonight.”
“I don’t need to eat,” Wuming reminded him as he walked over to Xie Lian’s place by the fire. “Keep the food for yourself, Your Highness. I don’t want you to go hungry for me.”
“Just a little bit?” Xie Lian wheedled him. It was true they didn’t have much, but he was sure he could get the ghost to eat a bite or two. “I know you don’t need it. But just because you don’t need it doesn’t mean it can’t be nice.”
Wuming sighed. “Maybe.”
From anyone else, Xie Lian would think they were just trying to get out of eating his cooking. But Wuming was either a brilliant actor or genuinely didn’t mind his cooking, which did him no favors whenever he tried to convince Xie Lian to stop offering him food.
Wuming knelt by the fire with a grunt. Too excited to be patient, Xie Lian reached over and grabbed the onions before they’d even been offered to him.
And then he looked up. And froze.
Oh.
Wuming was close. Very close. Far too close. If he breathed, Xie Lian was sure he’d feel the exhales on his face. He could count every eyelash that lined his eye. Wuming seemed just as startled by the proximity as Xie Lian- as much as anything startled him, at least. But he didn’t move away.
Neither did Xie Lian. He was... stuck. Strangely compelled. His body wouldn’t move. Instead, all he could do was notice how beautiful the ghost's deep, dark eye was. And his jawline, his cheekbones... how breathtaking they were. And his lips... His lips looked so soft. So very... very soft.
The fire popped. Xie Lian snapped away, heart racing and trance broken. He looked down at the onions to put some pretense of distance between them, but he wasn't quick enough to miss the way Wuming’s gaze snapped away from his lips, too.
Heat flared in his cheeks. A lot between the two of them felt a bit awkward right now. Charged. Several days ago, Xie Lian had experienced what he could only call a prolonged mental breakdown. He had fallen to pieces, humiliated himself, and ultimately wound up kissing Wuming for multiple hours. After all of that, Wuming had fallen asleep and not woken for three days. Clearly, staying up for the entirety of Xie Lian’s episode had taken its toll on him. Since he’d woken up a few days ago, things had definitely felt different between them. A good different, but different nonetheless.
And, the kissing...
Since that night, he had tried more than once to forget the feeling of Wuming’s lips on his, of the ghost’s cool hands gently cradling his body, of how safe he had felt exposing himself to a man who touched him like he was made of gold.
He had failed every time.
Xie Lian was not supposed to kiss people. It didn’t technically violate his cultivation, but there were many reasons it was a bad idea! So, so many reasons. It was foolish, stupid, and reckless.
But... What did he achieve by denying himself this? By denying them what they both wanted?
Did it have to be complicated? Could it not just be easy?
He wanted it to be. And it was with this in mind that Xie Lian mustered up all of his courage, rocked up onto his knees, and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his ghost’s mouth. “Thanks for the onions,” he mumbled.
Wuming blinked. His mouth dropped open. If he was startled before, now he was positively speechless. “You don’t have to do that!” he protested.
Xie Lian looked at him through his eyelashes. “Did you not like it?”
“...” Wuming ducked his head. “...I didn’t say that.”
Xie Lian pressed his lips together to suppress a smile. He busied himself with examining the onions and picking out a couple to include in their meal tonight. The rest could be cured and kept for later.
As he sorted through the onions, he became aware of the intent stare boring into the side of his head.
“What?” he asked, when he could ignore it no longer.
“I had no idea you liked onions so much.”
Xie Lian laughed. “What?”
Wuming leaned in closer. Xie Lian observed his fox-like smile from the corner of his eye. “To kiss me just for bringing you some. You must like them a lot.”
Xie Lian snorted. Mirth bubbled in his chest. “Oh, yes. After months of pickles, I’m willing to pay a high price for fresh produce.”
“What’s the exchange rate?”
Xie Lian broke. Peals of laughter spilled from his lips like petals from a plum tree.
“Your Highness, I’m serious! How many onions for a kiss? If I find radishes, is that better or worse? What about cabbage?”
Xie Lian toppled over. He laughed until his belly hurt. When he finally regained control of himself, he opened his eyes to Wuming leaning over him, smiling with quiet pleasure.
For a moment, Xie Lian’s heart was so light he thought he might cry.
Why did I think I needed to bribe you to stay?
With great effort, he composed himself enough to say, “Help me with dinner, and you’ll get another.”
Wuming let loose a bark of laughter, but by the time Xie Lian had pushed himself back upright, he had already rolled his sleeves up and grabbed their cooking knife.
“How do you want them?”
Xie Lian thought about it. The onions weren’t that big. “Quartered.”
Wuming nodded and held out a hand for the onions. When he did, the flash of something dark on his arm caught Xie Lian’s attention. His gaze dropped, and he grabbed Wuming’s arm, twisting it to better see what he’d glimpsed.
“...Is that a tattoo?” Xie Lian asked, feeling a bit dumbfounded. As a matter of fact, it was very obviously a tattoo, but beyond his surprise, it was...
Totally, utterly, absolutely illegible! What was he looking at? Was this Han dialect, or another language entirely?? The whole thing was a dark smear, black streaks organized just legibly enough to suggest it had meaning. So messy and chaotic, it practically radiated a demonic aura... But whatever it meant, Xie Lian hadn't a clue!
Bewildered, Xie Lian looked back up at Wuming. The ghost, stiff and tense, was himself staring at the tattoo adorning his forearm. His lips were downturned at the edges, and he wouldn’t look Xie Lian in the eye when he responded, “Yes.”
Yes. Obviously yes! But what was it? What did it say? Xie Lian considered the facts. Wuming’s tattoo was quite strange, but his behavior was also noteworthy. The way he wouldn’t look at Xie Lian, and the tension clear in the corner of his eye, the line of his brow, the shape of his mouth- it all made him wonder...
“Wuming, did you do this yourself?”
The ghost hesitated, then nodded.
“Ah. That’s very impressive,” Xie Lian complimented sincerely. He didn’t know much about tattooing, but he knew it involved needles and lots of stabbing. Whatever the tattoo said, it was something very meaningful, he was sure. That was just the kind of man Wuming was.
“It’s not very good,” Wuming said glumly.
“No, no, really, it is impressive!” Xie Lian rushed to assure him. “It must have been very difficult! It says a lot about your character.”
Wuming looked at him. “You can’t read it, can you.”
“...” Well, no, but... “What does it say?”
Wuming shook his head. Gently, he tugged his arm out of Xie Lian’s grasp and unrolled his sleeve, letting the tattoo vanish beneath the coarse black fabric. “Don’t worry about it, Your Highness.”
Xie Lian bit the inside of his cheek. With that sort of reaction, it made him wonder... Something sour uncurled itself in his gut and rested its head on the back of his tongue. “Is it... your beloved?”
Wuming glanced away. The muscles in his jaw worked, but he said nothing.
“Wuming?” Xie Lian repeated with concern.
Wuming sighed. “Probably,” he muttered.
Probably?? What-
No.
No way.
“Wuming,” Xie Lian said disbelievingly, “can- can you not read it either?”
“...Your Highness...”
“...!”
“Your Highness, please don’t laugh at me...!”
"Ahaha... Sorry... I'm sorry, it's-! Hahahaha!"