Chapter Text
When the thick black fog of the curse clears, there’s a child standing in front of Xie Lian. He’s small—he’s so, so small—and as soon as he sees Xie Lian, he wraps his arms around himself and hunches his shoulders like he’s trying to make himself even smaller. As he shies back a step, the red robes puddling around his feet trip him and he crashes to the ground. Blood wells up from a scrape on his elbow.
“...San Lang?” Xie Lian tries, fighting the urge to rush to his side. The terror in that child’s eye keeps him well at bay. There is not a single spark of recognition in him. “Hua Cheng? Wu Ming?”
The child’s chest rises and falls in a heaving tempo. His fingers dig into the robes around him, and he flinches whenever Xie Lian shifts his weight. There is no doubt that he will bolt the second he senses the opportunity. Since this child cannot possibly be allowed to flee into danger, Xie Lian seizes one final name from the dregs of his memory:
“Hong-er?”
The child hesitates, a spark of recognition in his eyes—it’s brief, but it’s there, and Xie Lian’s chest floods with relief. After all, there’s no way this can be anyone but Hua Cheng. Xie Lian would recognize that little face anywhere! Baby Hua Cheng is even smaller now than he was after Mount Tonglu opened, though; he can’t be older than five. Even more concerning than that is the blatant fear Hua Cheng regards him with. He’s never looked at Xie Lian like that before. It feels like teeth sliding between his ribs, and he struggles to breathe around the ache.
His body, Xie Lian thinks miserably, must not have been the only thing the curse altered. His memories must have regressed too.
This is an enormous problem, clearly, but it’s a problem that Xie Lian will have to solve after he convinces Hua Cheng to stop looking at him like that.
“Hong-er,” Xie Lian repeats, softly, crouching in front of him. Hua Cheng watches him move warily, a muscle in his jaw spasming with tension. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you remember me?”
Hua Cheng shakes his head—a short, tight gesture that doesn’t shift his eyes from Xie Lian at all. “Who…” He swallows, hunching his shoulders. His voice is so tiny, so uncertain. He’s just a baby. Xie Lian wants to wrap him up in blankets and hold him forever. “Who are you?”
“My name is Xie Lian.” Xie Lian smiles as kindly as he can, keeping himself loose and relaxed despite the worry building in his chest. After all, Hua Cheng has always reacted readily to his energy. “I’m your friend.”
Xie Lian has never seen a child look so skeptical. It would be funny, if it weren’t breaking his heart into a thousand wretched pieces. Does Hua Cheng really find it so hard to believe he could have a friend? Even at this age, is he already so convinced of his own worthlessness? Xie Lian knew that Hua Cheng’s childhood was really no good, although Hua Cheng never spoke openly of it. To see the proof of that childhood etched in this baby’s eye is an awful reminder.
“I don’t know you,” Hua Cheng says, although the rate of his breathing has begun to slow as the sharpness of his fear fades.
“You do now,” Xie Lian says cheerfully. “So, how about it, Hong-er? Friends?”
“Why?”
Ah, Hua Cheng, Hua Cheng! How perfectly cautious! That caution is, Xie Lian supposes, how he survived for so long on the streets. He hadn’t been this way the first time they met—but then, there’s something to be said for falling into a flying man’s arms and narrowly being saved from certain death. It really fosters a sense of trust and undying devotion!
Things won’t be so easy this time around, but that’s okay. Xie Lian can be patient. This little Hua Cheng deserves that from him, and so much more.
“Because I like you,” Xie Lian says, honestly.
Hua Cheng frowns at him. Disbelief is etched in the furrow between his brows. How long has it been since someone told him they liked him? (Well, it was this morning, technically, when Xie Lian whispered it to his husband between kisses. That doesn’t count here, though. How long has it been for Hua Cheng at this age? Has he ever heard it before?)
“You must be confused,” Xie Lian continues, when it becomes clear Hua Cheng isn’t going to respond. Hua Cheng nods. “That’s okay. Something a little scary happened, and you ended up...ah, here, with me, instead of at your home. I’m going to try to get you back, though. Will you come with me?”
Hua Cheng looks around, balling up a handful of his own oversized robes in one fist. They’re in the middle of a forest clearing. Sunlight streams through the branches overhead, littering the ground with patches of gold, and dust motes float through the shafts of light. It was quiet, in the aftermath of the curse, but now the birds have begun to sing again. A cool breeze stirs their hair. Hua Cheng himself sits in the middle of a broken entrapment array.
“Okay,” Hua Cheng says, when it becomes clear there’s nowhere else for him to go. At this age, he must not be used to the wilderness. He looks a little unnerved by it all.
“Great!” Xie Lian beams, then straightens up and crosses the rest of the distance between them. He pulls the robes up, bunching them around Hua Cheng’s shoulders and tightening the belt. Then he scoops Hua Cheng up—he’s so light! so little! just a baby!—and props him on one hip. Hua Cheng latches onto him immediately, tensing, and Xie Lian narrowly resists the urge to coo. “Hey, it’s okay. I won’t let you fall. It’s easier this way, huh? You won’t trip over your robes.”
Hua Cheng’s grip on him does not relax in the slightest, but he doesn’t fight to get down, either, so Xie Lian considers it a victory. He scoops up E-ming, too, and slides its scabbard into his belt alongside Fangxin. The sabre is abnormally still and quiet. Xie Lian can only hope that it, along with Hua Cheng’s memories and abilities, will recover once this curse is broken.
As he picks his way west, back towards their original distance-shortening array, his thoughts are a whirl. They’d been hunting a demon in this forest, and it had lunged for Xie Lian when they finally caught up to it in their array trap. Hua Cheng, ever the martyr, had lunged to take the blow, and then—well, and then this.
It doesn’t seem like a malevolent curse, but it’s certainly concerning. Hua Cheng is defenseless in this state. Anyone could take advantage of him, and a Ghost King has no shortage of enemies who would like to. So what if this was done on purpose? What if that demon was merely a ploy to lure them here and hurt Hua Cheng?
Xie Lian tries not to frown at the thought (he doesn’t want to worry his tiny ward) but it’s a difficult thing. He’ll have a lot of research to do once he gets Hua Cheng settled and safe. Maybe there’s someone he can contact: Ling Wen must know quite a bit about curses, and Yin Yu would be able to give him a list of Hua Cheng’s most prominent enemies. But—but what if it’s too dangerous, letting Hua Cheng’s condition be known? If words gets around to the Heavenly Capital or Ghost City…
This time Xie Lian really does frown, and he feels Hua Cheng shift nervously in his arms.
“Sorry, sorry,” Xie Lian says, smiling sheepishly. “I’m just thinking too hard.”
Hua Cheng glances up at him, clearly unconvinced. His eyepatch is too large, now—it keeps sliding down his cheek, and he keeps shoving it back up. Xie Lian takes pity the third time he sees this happen.
“Do you want me to tighten that for you?”
Hua Cheng clamps a hand over his right eye.
“I won’t move it,” Xie Lian promises. “There’s a knot on the back. I can tie it a little tighter so it stops falling down.”
Hua Cheng nods, but keeps his hand firmly in place as Xie Lian reaches around and deftly tightens the eyepatch’s string for him. This time, when Hua Cheng removes his hand, the patch stays snugly in place.
“There we go. Not too tight?”
Hua Cheng shakes his head and tangles his fingers into Xie Lian’s robes again—but Xie Lian would like to think his grip is a little looser, this time, like maybe he’s starting to think he won’t actually have to support his entire body weight himself when Xie Lian suddenly decides to drop him for no reason. (Xie Lian would never.)
“Look, here we are,” Xie Lian says when they reach the distance-shortening array. It’s painted in bright cinnabar on the door of a dilapidated cabin on the outskirts of this forest. Hua Cheng narrows his eye at it. “This is a special door. When we go through it, it will take us to my home. We can rest once we’re there. Just hold on tight to me, okay?”
Hua Cheng immediately strengthens his grip, his jaw set in determination. He is so cute, Xie Lian is going to die. They step through the door and into Puqi Shrine. Xie Lian wipes out the distance-shortening array on the shrine’s door, so nothing can follow them through, and then looks to Hua Cheng. His eye roams around the shrine, a little wide. How novel it is, to impress the prestigious Crimson Rain Sought Flower with such a humble abode!
“What do you think?” Xie Lian asks, grinning. “Do you like it?”
Hua Cheng nods, and Xie Lian sets him down. He fully expects Hua Cheng to go poking around, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sticks close to Xie Lian’s legs and looks uncertainly at the incense table and the offering box and the altar. When his eye catches on the painting of Xianle, it widens even further. He looks genuinely enthralled, and Xie Lian lights up. Enthralled is so much better than scared!
“My husband painted that,” Xie Lian says, puffing up with pride. “He’s very talented.”
“Who?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t, ah, you wouldn’t know him. His name is Hua Cheng.”
“No.” Hua Cheng points at the painting. “Who?”
“He’s just a scrap-collecting god. This is his shrine.”
Hua Cheng rocks on his heels and doesn’t look away from the painting until Xie Lian ushers him to sit down. Then he looks from Xie Lian to the painting, from the painting to Xie Lian, and his eye narrows suspiciously. Clever little thing!
“Here,” Xie Lian says, holding his hand out. “Can I see your arm, Hong-er?”
Hua Cheng tentatively unburies his arm from its mass of robes, sticking it out. His joints are all knobs, pressing tightly against his skin. He’s always been lean, but this is too much—he looks malnourished. Fighting back another frown, Xie Lian cradles that knobby wrist and glances at the scrape on his elbow. It’s already scabbed over, and it would undoubtedly heal on its own within the week. Why leave Hua Cheng to suffer even a minor pain, though? Ridiculous.
“I can fix this,” Xie Lian says. “It might feel funny, but it won’t hurt. Is that okay?”
Hua Cheng nods and keeps a very, very close eye on Xie Lian as he presses his fingertips to the wound. He pushes spiritual energy out and into the skin, encouraging it to knit shut beneath his touch. Hua Cheng stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away, and when Xie Lian draws back he rubs his own fingers over the healed skin for several seconds. He looks, again, from the painting of the god to Xie Lian.
“What do you want to eat, Hong-er?” Xie Lian asks, rising and heading for the kitchen. Then he hesitates, because subjecting an adult Hua Cheng to his cooking differs vastly from subjecting baby Hua Cheng to it. “We can go to the village to get something. We’ll get you some smaller robes there, too.”
“Okay,” Hua Cheng decides, after a moment, and then lifts his arms to be picked up again. Xie Lian fights very hard not to squeal. He is blessed. Truly he is blessed. He scoops Hua Cheng up again, and the two of them make their way into the village.
There’s no way to keep a low profile, here, but Xie Lian doesn’t dare leave Hua Cheng behind either. He brushes off the villagers’ questions as best he can, telling them that Hua Cheng is merely the child of a distant cousin. Hua Cheng seems content to go along with the lie as he peers silently into the souls of those around them, his little face quiet and somber as the villagers coo over him. When he starts to squirm, uncomfortable with the attention, Xie Lian whisks him away.
When they return to the shrine, Hua Cheng has been outfitted in red robes and boots that actually fit him. Xie Lian has also purchased a pair of smaller tunics and trousers, as well as steamed buns and noodles swimming in sauce. Hua Cheng looks dubiously at the first bun when Xie Lian offers it, but when he finally decides he’s allowed to eat he does so with abandon. Crumbs spray across the table as he wolfs down the buns Xie Lian offers him, cramming them in so that his cheeks puff and he struggles to chew. Ghost or not, Xie Lian worries he’ll choke!
“Slow down, slow down,” he frets, and immediately regrets it when Hua Cheng goes terror-tense and stops chewing entirely. “No, it’s okay! It’s okay, you can eat as much as you want, but there’s no rush. Chew slowly so you don’t choke, okay?”
Hua Cheng makes it a point to chew slowly, after that, although he looks uncomfortable doing so. Once dinner is finished, Xie Lian hauls in water for a bath and presses a heating talisman to the side of the tub. He scrubs the dishes as it heats, and Hua Cheng watches him from the corner of the shrine. That dark eye follows him like a magnet. This, at least, hasn’t changed.
When the dishes are clean and the bathwater is warm, Xie Lian calls Hua Cheng over. “How about a quick wash, Hong-er? I’ll go outside so I can’t see.”
Hua Cheng hovers beside the tub, peering into the steaming water. He dips a finger in and then yanks it back, shaking it off.
“Too hot?” Xie Lian asks. He had tested the temperature himself, and it hadn’t seemed harmful. Hua Cheng runs cold and he likes hot baths—but maybe that’s not the same for this little one. “I can cool it down first.”
“No,” Hua Cheng says immediately, and then hunches his shoulders up to his ears when Xie Lian looks at him. “...I like it.”
Xie Lian sets a gentle hand on his head, gratified when Hua Cheng doesn’t flinch away. “Then we’ll keep it just like this. Set your robes off to the side so they don’t get wet. I’ll be right outside, so shout if you need me.”
As promised, Xie Lian waits outside while Hua Cheng bathes. He doesn’t go far—Hua Cheng is so little, and he’s heard of children drowning in baths before!—but he does tend to his garden while he has the time. The splashes of water inside the shrine assure him that Hua Cheng is still alive, and it’s only when the silence stretches that he calls, “Hong-er? Are you alright?”
“Alright,” Hua Cheng agrees, and Xie Lian breathes a sigh of relief and prunes his peonies.
Almost half an hour later, Hua Cheng pads outside, dressed but barefoot. Xie Lian doesn’t have the heart to scold him for getting his feet all dirty again. Really, when does he have the heart to scold Hua Cheng for anything? Instead, he motions for the child to crouch beside him. He demonstrates the proper pruning technique, and then lets him go to work on the flowers. Several of the plants are shredded more than they are pruned, but it’s clear Hua Cheng is trying his hardest.
“Good job, Hong-er,” Xie Lian says. “They’re looking better already.”
Hua Cheng looks at him, round-eyed with surprise.
“Really. You’re a fast learner. I bet we can have the whole garden done by sundown, what do you think?”
Hua Cheng seems to think this is a personal challenge. The garden is butchered—lovingly—within the half-hour, and Xie Lian gathers up stripped leaves and loose petals to toss into the compost. His little shadow follows him, bare toes curling into the cool soil underfoot, and Xie Lian can’t resist an indulgent head-pat on their way back towards the garden. This might be an awfully inconvenient curse, but it’s also the most adorable.
“Here.” Xie Lian picks a pink peony from the garden, snapping its stem crisply between his fingers before offering it to Hua Cheng. “For your help.”
Hua Cheng stares at it, his fingers tangling into his own robes. They leave muddy streaks behind.
Xie Lian opens his hand, cupping the peony in a flat palm. “Go ahead. It’s for you. You can keep it.”
Carefully, Hua Cheng takes the peony and holds it to his chest. He watches Xie Lian, wide-eyed and unsure, so Xie Lian looks away from him to give him a moment of reprieve.
“Come on, Hong-er,” he says, leading the way back into the shrine. “Let me comb your hair, and then it’s bedtime.”
Hua Cheng sits quietly as Xie Lian gently teases the tangles from his damp hair with a jade comb. It takes several minutes, but Xie Lian works patiently, and Hua Cheng is more uncomplaining than any child should rightly be: his focus is all for peony in his hands. He cradles it in his lap and pets its petals with the pad of one tiny finger.
Once Xie Lian is finished, Hua Cheng’s hair lies in a smooth, inky curtain across his shoulders. Hua Cheng says something softly—too softly—and Xie Lian has to lean in and hum questioningly. “Hm? What’s that, Hong-er?”
“Thank you,” Hua Cheng mumbles.
Xie Lian thinks, briefly, of the first time he saw a kitten: small and soft and fuzzy beyond belief. He’d been overwhelmed with the urge to squeeze it, although his mother had warned him to be gentle and so he had been. He feels that same urge now: Hua Cheng is too cute and he has to squish something about it. He squishes himself, as best he can, hugging his arms to his chest and squeezing.
“You’re welcome,” he says, trying to sound calm and not absolutely floored by how sweet this baby is. “Let’s get you to bed now, okay?”
There’s an actual bed in the shrine, now—Hua Cheng had insisted on installing one when he found out Xie Lian would pass some nights here while attending to his various godly duties. Xie Lian was grateful for it then, and he’s just as grateful for it now, as he tucks Hua Cheng underneath the covers. The old straw mat that the bed replaced has been in storage for years, but he pulls it out and wipes the dust off and lays it out for himself.
“Comfy, Hong-er?” Xie Lian asks, making a show of yawning as he settles down on the mat.
“Mn.”
“Okay. Goodnight, then.”
“Night.”
Xie Lian extinguishes the candles with a flick of his hand, then closes his eyes and takes several slow, deep breaths. He won’t be sleeping tonight—how can he?—but he has to at least pretend, so Hua Cheng will relax enough to sleep himself. As soon as he’s resting, Xie Lian can get up and dig into his research. There aren’t many books on curses here, but maybe he can—
“Daozhang?”
Xie Lian’s eyes snap open. “Hong-er, you’re still awake?”
“Sorry,” Hua Cheng whispers.
“No, it’s okay.” Xie Lian rolls over, peeking up at the bed. He can’t see Hua Cheng from down here. “But you don’t have to call me that.”
“Oh.” A pause. “Xie Lian?”
“Ha ha, that’s better. Or, you can call me—” Xie Lian hesitates. It’s a bit improper, isn’t it, asking a child who’s only just met him to call him so informally? But, in the end, that’s always been Hua Cheng’s name for him. It should be his choice whether or not to use it. “You can call me gege. I don’t mind either way.”
Hua Cheng is quiet, for another long moment, before he says, “Where’s my mom?”
Xie Lian, like a monster, has to say, “I don’t know.”
“My dad?”
“I don’t know.”
“My brothers?”
“I’m sorry, Hong-er. I really don’t know.”
The blankets on the bed shift. When Hua Cheng speaks again, his voice is even smaller: “Can I go home?”
Xie Lian’s heart is breaking, fracturing into little pieces behind his ribs. He sits up, pulling his knees up and folding his arms across them. He can see Hua Cheng curled up on the mattress, making himself as small as possible and facing the far wall. If there were any way he could get Hua Cheng home, he—he—
Well. He wouldn’t do it, actually, because those worthless parents of his don’t deserve him and Xie Lian would never entrust anyone else with his precious Hua Cheng’s care anyway. But there has to be something he can do!
Whatever that something is, Xie Lian still doesn’t respond quickly enough for Hua Cheng.
“Please,” Hua Cheng adds, his voice cracking. His shoulders tremble. “Please. I’ll be good.”
“Hong-er…”
“I won’t be bad. I promise I won’t be bad anymore.”
“Hong-er, of course you aren’t bad.” Xie Lian scrambles up to perch on the edge of the mattress—far enough away to give Hua Cheng his space, but close enough for his presence to be felt. “Don’t ever think that, okay? You aren’t bad. You’re good. You’re a good boy.”
“Then why can’t I go home?”
“Hey—hey, look at me, okay? Look at me.” Xie Lian flicks a hand, re-lighting the candles. Hua Cheng rolls over, and the sight of him tramples what’s left of Xie Lian’s heart. His face is blotchy and red. His eye is glassy with tears. His lower lip wobbles. “Nobody sent you away. There was—remember that scary thing I told you about? There was a curse. It brought you here. That’s why you’re not at home right now.”
“A curse?” This was, evidently, the worst thing Xie Lian could have said. Hua Cheng’s tears spill over, fat droplets running down his cheeks to drip onto his pillowcase. “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! It wasn’t me, I didn’t do it, I promise I didn’t—”
“What? No, no, of course you didn’t—oh, sweetheart, come here.” Xie Lian reaches out, bundling Hua Cheng into his lap. Hua Cheng slumps against him, crying in earnest now. He wraps his fingers into Xie Lian’s robes and clings. “It wasn’t your fault. Shh, shh-shh-shh, no, it wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m not—I’m not b-bad, I promise I didn’t do it. Please, it wasn’t me, wasn’t—”
“No, it wasn’t you.” Xie Lian begins to rock him—back and forth, slow and soothing. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of Hua Cheng’s head protectively. “You had nothing to do with this and no one blames you. I know you’re not bad.”
“Sorry,” Hua Cheng hiccups through his sobs. “Sorry, Xie Lian, I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweet boy.” Xie Lian rubs wide, gentle circles across Hua Cheng’s shuddering back, encouraging him to breathe more slowly. Hua Cheng buries his face against his chest, undoubtedly smearing his robes with snot and tears, and howls even harder. “Shh, you’re okay, you’re alright. I’ve got you.”
Despite Xie Lian’s reassurances, Hua Cheng continues to choke apologies through his tears. He cries for a long, long time and Xie Lian holds him through the whole of it, stroking his hair and rocking him and murmuring gentle comfort. Eventually, he pulls the blankets up and drapes them around Hua Cheng’s shivering shoulders. He is so small and so scared and so exhausted. Xie Lian’s heart aches like a fresh bruise.
“Sweet boy,” he murmurs. “Sweet boy, it’s okay. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, and I’ll get you home soon, I promise.”
He does not tell Hua Cheng that home means a shrine, a manor in a city of monsters, a well-worn heart. This little one wouldn’t understand; he only wants his family, his house, the things he knows and understands. He doesn’t want to be here, in a strange place with a stranger person. Xie Lian can’t fault him for that.
Hua Cheng subsides, eventually—he has to. He’s too exhausted to continue. His eye is puffy and red-rimmed, the edges of his eyepatch damp with tears. He rests his cheek against Xie Lian’s chest, breathing shakily and clenching one fist around his robes. Xie Lian strokes his back as he settles.
“Better?” Xie Lian asks, softly, and Hua Cheng nods. “That’s good. I know you’re scared right now, but you’re being very brave. And I know—I know it’s hard for you to trust me. That’s okay. But I hope you can try to believe me when I say that I won’t hurt you, and I won’t let anyone else hurt you, either. I’ll take care of you as long as you’re here.”
Hua Cheng sniffles, then reaches up to wipe his face with the sleeve of his robe. “...I can’t go home?”
“Not yet. You’ll have to stay with me a little longer, but I’ll do everything I can to fix the curse so you can go home soon, okay?”
Hua Cheng nods slowly, rubbing his eye.
“Do you want to take your eyepatch off until it dries?” Xie Lian asks gently.
Hua Cheng, as expected, immediately claps a hand over his right eye and shakes his head. “No,” he says, his voice distraught again. “No. Ugly.”
“It is not ugly,” Xie Lian says firmly. “Anyone who says that is being very mean, Hong-er. But if you want to keep the eyepatch on, you can. I won’t take anything from you.”
Hua Cheng nods and keeps his hand pressed over his eyepatch until Xie Lian looks away. Xie Lian stands, shifting Hua Cheng so that he’s cradled in one arm, and goes to fetch a washcloth. He damps it before handing it to Hua Cheng.
“Clean your face, please,” he says, and Hua Cheng obeys. “Good job, thank you.”
Xie Lian sets the washcloth aside to be cleaned later, then fetches a cup of water and encourages Hua Cheng to drink. Once it’s empty, he sets it aside, too, and rearranges Hua Cheng in his arms. The child ends up against his chest, his arms looped tightly around Xie Lian’s neck and his legs wrapped around his waist. Xie Lian keeps one hand under him to support him, while the other rubs his back and shoulders. He paces the length of the shrine—recalling, dimly, how his own mother used to walk with him in her arms until the sway of her steps lulled him to sleep.
It’s a trick that works on Hua Cheng, now, too. His chin bumps Xie Lian’s shoulder, his grip loosening as he relaxes. His head leans against Xie Lian’s, and he makes a sleepy, concerned noise.
“It’s okay,” Xie Lian whispers, smoothing a hand over his hair. “Hong-er, rest.”
Xie Lian hums a meandering, aimless tune as he walks, and it isn’t long before Hua Cheng goes entirely limp against him. He’s still so terrifyingly light—only the press of his sharp chin and the twitch of his muscles as he breathes convinces Xie Lian that he’s corporeal. That’s odd, too, isn’t it? Hua Cheng shouldn’t need to breathe. He shouldn’t have a heartbeat. He shouldn’t be this warm. He feels alive, here in Xie Lian’s arms, and it’s terrifying.
What if this wasn’t merely an age regression curse? What if it was a time-swapping curse? What if—if Xie Lian’s own Hua Cheng is stuck somewhere hundreds of years in this past, while this little one was brought forward to take his place? If that’s the case, things are even more urgent. (If that’s the case, Xie Lian doesn’t know if he can bring himself to send this little one back there. He can have two Hua Chengs, can’t he? That’s not too much?)
Once he’s sure that Hua Cheng is asleep, Xie Lian sets him down and bundles him beneath the blankets again—then he gets to work. He sits down with a blank sketchpad and goes to work jotting down what he knows: the demon’s origin, its appearance, the effects of its curse. Once he’s done that, he comes to the unfortunate (but inevitable) conclusion that he can’t do this alone. Curses are far from his speciality. Usually, he would ask Hua Cheng, but…
Well. Yin Yu is good second option.
He reaches out through their private communication array, and feels Yin Yu’s consciousness stir sleepily in response. Ah, I’m sorry, Yin Yu, he says guiltily. I didn’t mean to wake you.
Mmph, Yin Yu replies. A second later, more coherently, he asks, Your Highness? Did you need something?
Yes, actually. I’ve run into a bit of a problem.
And you’re contacting me?
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just thought—
No, it’s fine, it’s just—well, it’s usually Hua Chengzhu who contacts me when the two of you need something.
About that…
No way! Yin Yu’s mental voice spikes with alarm. Something’s wrong with Hua Cheng?!
He’s fine, he’s fine, Xie Lian hastens to assure him. It’s nothing too dangerous. It’s only, when we were hunting a demon, he got himself cursed.
Cursed? Hua Cheng? You can’t be serious!
Unfortunately.
What happened?
Xie Lian explains their demon hunt hastily before finishing with, So now he’s a little kid! Four years old? Maybe five? I haven’t asked—ah, I should do that. He seems to be okay, but he’s confused. It looks like his memories regressed along with his body. I can’t leave him alone, and I don’t dare hunt that demon with him like this. He could get hurt!
Of course, of course. You must keep Hua Chengzhu safe. Yin Yu is quiet, for a moment, his conscious a whirlwind flicker of thought. Do you want me to research the demon, then?
If you would be so kind.
I’ll start right away. Your Highness, if I could make a request?
Anything.
...can I come see him?
Xie Lian hesitates. He believes Yin Yu to be trustworthy, but he believed Jun Wu to be trustworthy, too, and look where that got him. Few people can be entirely trusted. But Yin Yu has always served Hua Cheng faithfully, and as long as Xie Lian keeps an eye on him it’s not like he can do any harm. He really isn’t that strong at all.
Alright, he says. Come visit tomorrow.
Yes! I’ll be there first thing in the morning!
Yin Yu?
Yes, Your Highness?
Please keep this between us. If word got out about San Lang’s condition…
I understand. Your Highness, his safety is important to me, too.
I know it is. Thank you, Yin Yu.
With that, Xie Lian closes the communication array and opens his eyes. He’s still itching to research, but he really doesn’t know what else he can do. He can’t leave Hua Cheng like this, and he has no useful books stored here—most of his favorites are kept at Paradise Manor, or in Ling Wen’s library. So, resigned, Xie Lian lays back on his straw mat.
He does not sleep, and the dawn comes slowly.