Premise: Set after the novel’s conclusion, this story follows Xie Lian as a series of quiet, unsettling moments accumulate into something he can no longer push away, with the first chapter serving as both a standalone piece and the foundation for a longer narrative.

Warnings:

Vague spoilers for volume 6-8 (Seven Seas edition). Even without the direct mention of spoilers, this fanfic has established character backgrounds and dynamics.

Scenes of mental breakdowns

S/H (non-graphic)

More warnings will be added as this draft is updated.

Other: Words with small numbers next to them have footnotes¹ that can be viewed when hovering over them. Credit for the source material goes to Mo Xiang Tong Xiu (MXTX), everything else on this page was created by me. Everything...

With the slow unfurling of the days spilling softly into months, life for Xie Lian had grown to be surprisingly simple. No, rather than simple, it had, for once, been... peaceful. This was something that he had to learn to accept slowly. It was something still foreign to him.

Although... The one thing that hadn't changed after all this time was the mortal realm in need of him. Xie Lian was still getting used to the sight of Puqi Shrine as it now stood—broader than he remembered, a small courtyard added where there had once been rubble, rebuilt in his absence by villagers whose care he had never quite known how to properly repay. He should have expected that it wouldn't take long after his return for those same villagers, some familiar, some he recognized only by face, to put him to work as if he had never been gone in the first place. It also didn't take much time for him to find himself guiding lost travelers, calming wandering spirits, and righting some mishaps that—thankfully, somehow no longer grew into full-blown disasters. All just as he had done before, time and time again. For Xie Lian, this was the quiet life that he missed. A pleasant one, at that.

What he hadn't quite adjusted to, however, was just how much he missed Hua Cheng. The long stretches of days—or even weeks—when their paths couldn't cross were... harder than Xie Lian had expected. He had grown used to absence, to letting time pass quietly, and for a long while, that had been enough. But now, with Hua Cheng's return and his duties as the Ghost King demanding his attention, each moment apart felt more delicate, as if even the smallest intrusion on Hua Cheng's time would be too much. They saw each other when their schedules aligned, which was never quite as often as either of them hoped. While Xie Lian could at least slip away from his volunteer work if he really wanted to, Hua Cheng carried the weight of an entire city; Xie Lian understood that better than most. And with that always in mind, he refrained from letting his longing get the better of him.

So when he finished a round of tasks in the village earlier than expected, he hesitated only long enough to pretend he'd thought it through. Really, there was no harm in stopping by Ghost City. After all, he was already nearby. Practically on the way... Entirely reasonable.

It was only a visit.
Just a visit...
No need to make a big deal of it.

His steps fell into an easy rhythm, carrying him toward Ghost City before he fully realized how fast he was walking.

Soon, the familiar glow of lanterns and the swell of lively voices rose around him as he approached the city's entrance.

❀❀❀

Xie Lian walked through the familiar streets of Ghost City, where the night was always loud and bright. Vendors of every shape and shade hollered over one another, offering strange skewers, spurious talismans, questionably sourced meat, dubious elixirs, and... Gods know what. He half-expected to be mobbed the moment he set foot within this strip of booths, yet the rabid enthusiasm he had braced for never came.

Instead, the ghosts were wrapped in their own revelry. They jostled and bickered, drinking, laughing, yelling greetings to friends. None of them spared Xie Lian more than a passing glance.

There was nothing unusual about that.

And yet, a faint chill crept along Xie Lian's spine. In the center of vivid colors and noise, he felt strangely invisible, as if he were merely a slip of paper floating through the crowd... Weightless, purposeless.

He shivered. Only then did he notice that his feet had carried him... somewhere. A slightly quieter alley, lanterns rustling overhead, their glow seeming harsher than before.

"Xie-dashu!¹ What are you doing here!" croaked out a scratchy voice.

Xie Lian turned to see a scrawny ghoul trotting toward him, its grin stretched uncomfortably wide.

"Ah... just sto—"

"You're here to visit Hua Chengzhu, aren't you?" the ghoul blurted, seeming a little too giddy.

"..."

"Why else would he be here?" another ghost, one with a broader frame, chimed in. "Hua Chengzhu treats him so well—as to be expected! Truly worthy of a ruler!"

Xie Lian's face warmed. "Oh... yes... I suppose..."

"What has this little one been up to? Any trouble with those mortals?" boomed a boar-headed creature, one that Xie Lian recognized as the notorious butcher. "Just say the word and I'll take care of it for you!" He laughed boisterously as he thumped a cleaver down as if to prove his devotion—straight into his own booth! Wood splintered; several ghosts jumped and scolded him harshly.

"Oh—no, no, it's fine...!" Xie Lian rushed to throw up his frantically waving hands.

Now, this friendly bombardment, he was used to. But tonight, the voices felt thicker, heavier. More than he could manage.

"Have you eaten yet, little gege?" A ghostly courtesan questioned with a shrill giggle.
"Could you tell our Hua Chengzhu that—"
"Hey! He's not your personal messenger, you idiot!"
"Have you heard— they're hosting— ...Chengzhu said—"

The words tangled, layering over one another like too many hands reaching at once. Xie Lian's own mouth moved—something polite, surely, but even he couldn't make out what he'd said.

A nearby ghost leaned in, its features twisted strangely, mouth flapping rapidly. The sound reached Xie Lian's ears, but meaning refused to follow.

He blinked hard. The ground seemed to tilt beneath him.

"Ah... sorry... I should, um, go now..." Xie Lian mustered with a slight bow, suddenly too ashamed to look any of them in the eye. The dizzy feeling washed over him again, settling in his chest with an overwhelming heaviness.

The ghosts waved cheerfully, oblivious, their voices echoing strangely as though the crowd was a further distance from where Xie Lian stood. As he turned away, his feet began moving on their own once again. He never noticed how his pace quickened—light at first, then faster, then faltering with each stumble, as if he were trying to outrun something that only he could sense.

❀❀❀

[Intro to scene 3 (WIP), in which Xie Lian meets up with Hua Cheng]

-

"I... I'm going to take a bath..." Xie Lian blurted before he could stop himself. He thought that, maybe, this would at least pass as a reasonable means of escape, but the moment Hua Cheng's gaze flickered— just a beat, just for the words to suggest a different meaning, heat shot up Xie Lian's neck. Of course it sounded like... like that!

"Um— because it's been a while!" he quickly added, but that was a mistake too. Didn't that sound even worse!? The urge to flee was almost overwhelming.

But Hua Cheng merely inclined his head, his expression calm. "Then I'll have it prepared for you."

"No, no!" Xie Lian raised both hands. He didn't want to trouble anyone—he never did. But at this point... wasn't he turning this into an even bigger mess? He steadied his voice and said, "I can... manage it myself... really..." The last word thinned into a whisper before he realized it.

Expression remaining as steady as ever, Hua Cheng nodded. "Mn. Take your time."

"Yes," Xie Lian responded. "Yes"...? Caught between relief and mortification, he stooped into a stiff bow, then straightened at once when he realized just how absurd that looked—so formal, especially towards Hua Cheng—and yet, he couldn't stop himself. Heat flooded his face. He spun on his heel and hurried out before Hua Cheng could say another word.

❀❀❀

Xie Lian had initially declined the offer so as not to trouble anyone, but in truth... he had no idea how one should properly prepare such a bath! At Puqi Shrine, all he ever had to do was fetch the wooden bucket and gather water from the nearby stream. But here... Pacing to the bathing chamber, he tried to recall if Hua Cheng had ever explained the layout, where things were kept, how it all worked, or—

His thoughts were interrupted by a faint, comforting aroma. The chamber glowed softly under lantern light, the paper screens painted with a warm radiance. His eyes passed over a wash basin, a mirror, a few benches, and shelves lined with various items, but none of it drew him like the stone tub, which had already been filled with warm water. A small sigh slipped past him, tentative but relieved. "It wouldn't be a problem," he could imagine Hua Cheng affirming.

Still, Xie Lian's guilt prickled. He eased himself toward the tub, carefully setting his robes aside as Ruoye slipped silently from his shoulders. He lowered himself into the warm water. Steam rose to envelop him. The gentle blend of herbs soothed him as he breathed it in.

Xie Lian leaned back against the tub's edge, gaze drifting upward, unfocused, tracing nothing along the ceiling above.

"I'm going to take a bath..." Xie Lian recalled. "...because it's been a while..."

It's been a while...

His eyes snapped down to the water. Though an excuse made up on the spot, those words unearthed a memory, one of the many that he had buried—and reburied, over and over again.

A time when those words would have been true. When "a while" could have been days— weeks, when caring for himself had become an afterthought, when the weight of his failures suffocated him, and when he hadn't understood just how deeply he was dragging down those who still cared for him, staining their kindness with his own despair, all because...

Because...

His eyes darted, flinching from the mirror—
from catching the sight of himself—
or even the sight of—

No.

Xie Lian forced his gaze away, as if refusing to look could undo the thought itself. It couldn't be. Not now. Why now?

He told himself it was impossible. That it was over. That it couldn't come back—not a third time.
He couldn't hurt him anymore.

Right?

His mind reached for reason, clung to it desperately, but his body did not listen. His chest tightened, breath turning shallow and uneven, and a sick, crawling sensation spread beneath his skin. Something in him recoiled, already bracing, already remembering. As if his body never forgot, no matter how many years had passed.

He had to stop. He needed to stop—but the thought had already taken hold.

A ghost of a touch brushed too close to memory. The weight of arms holding him still, the cruel tenderness of a hand stroking his hair. The sharp, familiar ache blooming in his chest and sinking into his stomach, as vivid as it had been years ago. The room seemed to tilt, the air suddenly too thick, too close.

His stomach clenched, cold and hollow, and his pulse began to thud against his ears. His skin crawled, fear giving way to a deeper, more nauseating revulsion. Trembling, he reached blindly for a rag nearby—rough, cold in his hands—and scrubbed.

And scrubbed.

His breath stuttered as he dragged the cloth across his skin, harder, faster, until it burned, until the sting sharpened into pain. Until his skin was raw and flushed, as if he could scour the feeling away by force alone.

As if that could erase—

Erase what, exactly?

His hands slowed, shaking. As if he didn't already know.

The rag slipped from his fingers, sinking into the water. Desperate to drown out the thoughts, he submerged his head, letting the water close over him.

But this feeling, too. It was uncomfortably familiar.

Xie Lian swung his head back up, breaking the surface in a violent burst, gasping for air. Half terrified, half frustrated, his trembling hand gripped the edge of the tub. He braced to haul himself up—

Until a soft glow flickered into view.

Looking down at his hand, still damp, still unsteady, a wrath butterfly had settled itself upon it, its delicate wings quivering. Xie Lian stared at the familiar sight, the tightness in his chest loosening itself, little by little. His eyes flicked down to the small ring hanging at his chest, suspended from the chain around his neck—a quiet reminder. Whether this butterfly in particular had been sent by Hua Cheng or had a mind of its own, Xie Lian couldn't say. And it didn't really matter.

"I suppose I've been in here long enough..." Xie Lian murmured, though he was unsure of whether the words were intended for himself or the butterfly.

❀❀❀

After an incense time, Xie Lian stepped back into the bedroom. The panic from earlier lay neatly folded away. He refused to let Hua Cheng catch even a shadow of it. Whatever storm he'd stirred up in his own head—water under the bridge, he told himself, though he didn't want to think about that either.

Hua Cheng was there, as expected, lying on the mattress above the covers. One knee was propped up, a casual pose that made the book in his hand look more like a prop than anything he truly read. The moment Xie Lian entered, that half-hearted interest vanished. In a single fluid motion, Hua Cheng set the book aside and shifted to the edge of the bed.

Xie Lian approached with measured steps and sat down beside him—close enough to be near, far enough to give himself room to breathe. For a quiet beat, neither moved until Hua Cheng angled toward him. Xie Lian noticed Hua Cheng's pale hand tapping his own lap, a gentle invitation.

He drew in a breath and accepted it.

After they settled, Xie Lian lay on his side, near the edge of the bed but not so near that it felt precarious, his head resting against Hua Cheng's lap. Hua Cheng, in turn, adjusted just slightly, the small shifts meant only for Xie Lian's comfort.

Then came the touch. Hua Cheng's cool hand slid through Xie Lian's dark, still-damp hair. His fingers combed through with patient care, and when they caught on a tangle, he paused and coaxed it loose with both hands. A long, heavy sigh slipped out of Xie Lian before he could hold it back.

From above came a soft voice. "Gege seems exhausted..."

Xie Lian couldn't tell whether it was a question or an observation. Words tangled in his throat. All he could do was nuzzle deeper into the smooth fabric beneath his cheek.

Hua Cheng's hand left his hair. Before Xie Lian could register the loss, a fingertip came to rest between his brows. With a gentle pressure, firm enough to ground him, never enough to hurt, Hua Cheng rubbed small circles into the spot. The touch drew Xie Lian's eyes closed. The finger traced upward, slow and steady, until it reached the top of his forehead, then drifted back down to begin again.² The repeated motion lulled him.

This feeling... The memory of a warmer, smaller hand tending to him the in same way from when he was young. A comfort he hadn't known in centuries. His chest tightened.

But another thought followed, quiet and uncertain. This touch.... I've felt this before... but San Lang... did he ever...

Xie Lian couldn't complete the thought. Not because he knew the answer, but because the question itself was too heavy to finish.

They had shared countless tender moments, of course, yet this quiet, instinctive warmth—a comfort given only in the earliest, most cherished years, was a kind of closeness neither had felt in so long that it felt almost foreign.

Xie Lian stirred, causing Hua Cheng to withdraw his hand. Rolling onto his back, Xie Lian looked up at him. Hua Cheng lowered his head in return, their gazes meeting. His expression was calm, patient as always, but Xie Lian searched deeper—reading, analyzing, hoping to find... something. Anything.

Heat pricked at Xie Lian's eyes. He couldn't look anymore. A faint sting shot across his arm as he shifted, though he ignored it.

Silence settled over them before Xie Lian whispered, "I'm sorry... San Lang..." His eyes fixed on the far wall, unsure he could face him. "I don't know what's come over me."

A hand returned to his hair, stroking with slow, steady warmth. "No need to apologize," Hua Cheng murmured. "If this San Lang may ask... did something happen to gege?"

Xie Lian hesitated. Did something happen? The only real incident had been in Ghost City, when too much affection came at him at once... but he immediately dismissed the thought. Ghost City was the safest place he knew, a place Hua Cheng had built with his own hands. Feeling overwhelmed there felt almost like an ingratitude he didn't dare name. And as for the mortal realm... the quiet days had felt a little lonely, yes, but he should have been used to that by now. Eight hundred years had passed with no one at his side... A touch of solitude was nothing. None of it should have shaken him the way it did.

"Ah." A thought surfaced. "Well... now that I think about it..." Xie Lian's answer slipped into a ramble. "Every few years, I suppose I have some sudden... episode. Something like this, I guess. But I let it pass, and eventually everything settles again... ha..."

The hand in his hair paused. Xie Lian's shoulders tightened, expecting the touch to vanish. Instead, a softer voice came from above.

"Gege... you don't have to go through this alone..."

Xie Lian let out a quiet breath. "I suppose..." He hesitated, then smiled faintly. "I'm not very used to remembering that yet."

There was a brief silence. Xie Lian stared at nothing in particular, then added, almost to himself, "It's strange. After so long, I still don't quite know what to do with it." He closed his eyes briefly, then turned to look up at Hua Cheng. This time, reading his expression was not difficult. A flicker of guilt pricked at his chest, but he let it pass and spoke softly, "What about you, San Lang? Have you ever felt this way? Surely you have. What did you do? And now... would you tell me...?"

Hua Cheng didn't have an answer. Or rather, he couldn't. His brow furrowed, the barest hint of conflict passing over his features.

Xie Lian gave him a small, understanding smile. "See...? It isn't easy for anyone to admit such things."

Hua Cheng's eye widened, only slightly, before a soft chuckle escaped him. "Gege got me."
"Mm, that may be true," he continued, "but this San Lang trusts gege dearly. Whatever troubles you... it will never change that."

Xie Lian's heart skipped. His anxiety didn't quite fade, but it loosened—just enough to let him rest in this moment. A brighter smile lifted his lips. "My dear San Lang..."

The touch at his temple lingered, and when Xie Lian looked up, he caught the small curve of Hua Cheng's smile.

Sensing the conversation had reached its end, Xie Lian shifted once more, settling his head on Hua Cheng's lap. Hua Cheng resumed the quiet ritual... Pressing the point between Xie Lian's brows, then smoothing upward, then trailing his fingers into his hair.

Xie Lian's vision blurred. His eyelids grew heavy, though he didn't resist.

Half-aware, he felt his body lift—arms sliding beneath him, silk wrapping around his shoulders. The mattress dipped beside him, and a familiar weight gathered him close. He tried to speak, but only a faint breath escaped.

A soft, chaste kiss brushed his forehead.

He shifted slightly beneath the covers, the weight adjusting around him. A hand brushed along his forearm, lingering over the faint red marks left from earlier. It stiffened for the briefest instant—something unspoken, but the warmth that followed soothed the sting. Drowsy, he barely registered the relief, only that the discomfort faded under that careful touch.

The hand returned to his hair, slow and steady, tracing the familiar, comforting path. His body relaxed entirely, surrendering to the quiet, the steady presence beside him.

A voice followed—gentle, low. The words blurred even as they reached him, but he understood all he needed to.

He was safe. He was cared for.

He was loved.

Sunlight filtered through the renovated windows of the shrine, casting a warm glow over the tidy room. Xie Lian moved carefully, dusting spots barely within reach, while Hua Cheng followed just a step behind, sweeping quietly. Neither of them was busy—there were no urgent errands today, no pressing visitors, just chores and the rare luxury of a free morning.

"Maybe I can accompany you," Hua Cheng had said earlier that day, voice soft and casual, and Xie Lian hadn't argued. The promise lingered like a small comfort, something to focus on rather than the gnawing thoughts he still didn't quite understand from the night before.

Xie Lian focused on the rhythm of the broom, on the small satisfaction of the dust giving way to clean wood, on Hua Cheng's quiet presence behind him. Occasionally, their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, a small smile passed between them before Xie Lian quickly swung his head away to pretend he was absorbed in his work.

Just as the moment settled into an easy rhythm, a soft knock at the door drew a frown from Hua Cheng. Xie Lian froze for a heartbeat, then shook himself and hurried to answer, leaving the duster momentarily forgotten.

When he opened the door, his eyes widened—then softened.

"Mu Qing?" he asked, surprise giving way to a smile. "What brings you here? Paying me a visit?"

Mu Qing stood stiffly on the threshold. It had been some time since Xie Lian had last seen him, and whatever composure he'd brought with him was already beginning to fray.

"Oh. Well. Yes— no," Mu Qing corrected himself, then paused. "I mean... there is something I wished to ask." His gaze drifted past Xie Lian, landing squarely on Hua Cheng. Hua Cheng met the look with a flat stare, broom resting against his shoulder. Mu Qing's words faltered.

Xie Lian noticed at once. "Come in, come in. It's fine," he said lightly, stepping aside. Mu Qing hesitated, then entered, closing the door behind him with deliberate care.

He cleared his throat. "Your Highness. Forgive me for coming unannounced. I was uncertain who else to turn to, and so... I am requesting your help."

Xie Lian brightened. "Oh? No one else could help you? What's the matter?"

Before Mu Qing could answer, Xie Lian's expression shifted. He raised two fingers to his temple, brows knitting faintly as he tilted his head, listening to a familiar voice only he could hear.

"...Feng Xin?"

There was a brief pause—then the voice continued through his private communication array. Mu Qing's mouth tightened.

"Yes. It's me," Feng Xin said. He sounded strained. "I didn't want to trouble you, Your Highness, but... Well, there's something I wanted to ask your help with—"

Xie Lian laughed, the sound slipping out before he could stop himself. "Sorry, sorry," he said quickly. "It's just... Mu Qing is standing in front of me right now, asking the same thing."

Silence answered him.

Before an incense stick could be lit, the shrine door flew open with a sharp crack, slamming against its frame. Hua Cheng's expression darkened.

Feng Xin stormed inside, boots heavy against the floor. "Mu Qing! What are you doing here? Dropping by unannounced to trouble His Highness—have you no shame?"

Mu Qing scoffed. "Shame? You nearly broke the door with such an entrance. Since when do I need your permission to ask for help in person? Or were you so afraid you couldn't face His Highness directly?"

Feng Xin's temper flared instantly. "Afrai—!? What the hell is your problem??"

"What's yours?" Mu Qing shot back. "You already know why I'm here."

The air crackled.

Xie Lian let out a soft breath. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Hua Cheng, however, knew exactly what to do—his gaze sharpened, dark and displeased, fixed on the two generals until they both fell silent.

"Please, please," Xie Lian raised a hand, smiling faintly. "Now I'm even more curious. What is troubling you two so badly?"

Mu Qing and Feng Xin exchanged a glance, each clearly waiting for the other to speak first.

"...From what we've gathered," Feng Xin began, then hesitated. He cleared his throat. "This case feels... similar to that ghost bride incident. You know. The one with the soon-to-be brides... and... General Pei..."

Xie Lian nodded, already understanding.

"You remember how the brides were taken one by one?" Feng Xin continued. "All because that woman was obsessed with him?"

"Yes," Xie Lian said. "I remember." He paused. "Do you want me to dress up again?" he asked, his tone unflustered and earnest.

"..." said Feng Xin.

"..." said Mu Qing.

Hua Cheng, who had been leaning idly against the wall, paused. His gaze flicked toward Xie Lian, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly before he turned his head away again, as if to hide it.

Xie Lian noticed the silence and gave a small laugh. "I'm joking," he said, waving a hand. "Please, go on."

Feng Xin exhaled through his nose. "...Well," he said, folding his arms, "this feels like that again."

Mu Qing let out a quiet hum. "Not exactly."

Feng Xin shot him a look. "Oh? Then why don't you enlighten us?"

Mu Qing held his tongue. "From what we've seen, the victims aren't disappearing. They're turning on one another. Worshippers near the border, southeast and southwest, people who should have no reason to fight suddenly airing grievances, accusing each other, escalating far too quickly."

"At first we thought it was theft," Feng Xin added. "Burglars crossing from his territory. Or mine."

Mu Qing scoffed. "Until we realized nothing was actually being stolen."

Xie Lian brought a hand to his chin. "Then what are they fighting about?"

Mu Qing hesitated. "Family matters. Old relationships. Things they shouldn't know about each other."

"Accusations," Feng Xin said. "Threats... 'I'll tell everyone!' 'How could you!?'... Things like that... We thought it could be mass hysteria—And before you ask, yes, we tried dispelling that idea too."

Mu Qing nodded. "We searched for spiritual traces. Curses. Anything obvious. Whatever it is doesn't respond when sought out."

"It hides," Feng Xin said. "Or waits."

Xie Lian lowered his hand slowly. "So it doesn't create the conflict... It nudges it along...?"

Mu Qing frowned. "That's our conclusion."

"It manipulates people into unraveling themselves," Feng Xin mumbled, "and plays the long game..."

"A ghost that reveals secrets..." Xie Lian spoke softly. He paused, then smiled—small, sympathetic, almost pitying. "That's not very kind."

For a moment, no one spoke.

Xie Lian lifted his gaze again. "If it's a vengeful spirit... do the incidents have anything else in common? A pattern, perhaps?"

Feng Xin exhaled. "We tried looking. Tracked the fights, questioned people, stayed nearby to see if anything would show itself." He clicked his tongue. "Nothing. Whatever it is, it doesn't surface for people who come looking with weapons drawn."

Mu Qing added, more reluctantly, "It doesn't respond to brute force. Or intimidation."

Xie Lian glanced between them. "So you think it's driven by emotion."

"Yes," Feng Xin said immediately. "And you're... better with that sort of thing..."

Xie Lian smiled faintly. "I see."

Neither of them said it outright, but the implication hung in the air. This wasn't their strength.

A quiet chuckle cut in from behind them.

Hua Cheng finally broke his silence. "And that's it?" he questioned. "That's the conclusion you've come to?"

Feng Xin frowned. "What are you getting at?"

Hua Cheng's gaze flicked briefly to Xie Lian before returning to them. "You couldn't draw it out. You couldn't make it react. So you decided to bring him instead."

Mu Qing's expression tightened. "We're not using him."

"No?" Hua Cheng tilted his head. "Then why does it always end this way?"

Feng Xin bristled. "Watch your mouth."

Hua Cheng didn't raise his voice. If anything, it softened. "You know exactly what I mean. Every time things get complicated. Every time it stops responding to fists and blades." His smile was thin. "You drag him in and call it trust."

"San Lang." Xie Lian exhaled softly. He tilted his head and met Hua Cheng's eye.

Hua Cheng paused.

Xie Lian looked between Feng Xin and Mu Qing, still calm. "They aren't wrong. I am better at this kind of thing. And it isn't because they're lacking. It's simply experience."

Mu Qing hesitated. "Xie Lian—"

"It's fine," Xie Lian said gently. "Truly. I don't mind."

Mu Qing looked away. Feng Xin exhaled through his nose.

"...We're not... we're not trying to push anything onto you," Feng Xin said stiffly. "We just didn't want to handle this badly..."

Xie Lian smiled. "I understand."

Hua Cheng said nothing, but the tension in his shoulders didn't ease.

❀❀❀