That night, within Thousand Lights Temple, Xie Lian was leaning over the jade table next to the divan wearing nothing but a light, snow-white inner robe after his evening bath. He was putting together a calligraphy copybook for Hua Cheng, writing it out stroke by stroke.
Hua Cheng reclined all alone on the divan; he was also wearing nothing but an inner robe with the collar slightly open. He had been gazing at Xie Lian all this time, illuminated by lamplight as mild as jade. He was clearly bored to death, and his fingers busied themselves by twiddling the red coral pearl at the tail end of his braid. After drinking in the view for a while, he squinted his eye, looking satisfied.
“Gege, enough of that,” he sighed. “Come rest now.”
But Xie Lian had only just endured Hua Cheng’s torment—he was determined not to be tricked again. Even if that tone of voice made the tips of his ears burn, he forced himself to stay calm as he continued to write.
“No. San Lang, today someone said your writing is ugly again. You have to practice hard, all right?” he said sternly. “Otherwise, I don’t want anyone to know that I taught you.”
Hua Cheng sat up slightly and arched his brows. “Gege, I remember you once said very clearly that you liked my handwriting.”
After Hua Cheng returned to him, Xie Lian was compliant and docile for a long while, going along with his every whim…which was probably how he wound up spoiling Hua Cheng rotten, and why he became such a bully.
Xie Lian finished writing and placed the brush down. In an even stricter voice, he said, “Knock it off. I’m done; come practice.”
Hua Cheng lazily shuffled over to sit behind Xie Lian. He slipped his arms around to hug his waist and bent slightly to rest his head on his shoulder. He removed the red coral pearl from his hair and placed it on the paper, making it chase after Xie Lian’s hand. It rolled around, purposely obstructing Xie Lian from writing properly.
So mischievous, but at the same time so forceful in asserting his presence. Xie Lian remembered how Heaven’s Eye had said his whole body was radiating evil qi from the inside out—that was all thanks to Hua Cheng, and he felt his heart go soft and aflutter despite himself.
As he struggled lightly, he whispered, “…Write properly.”
“All right. I’ll listen to gege,” Hua Cheng said.
He raised his brush, but he put it back down after only two verses. A single look was all it took for Xie Lian to shake his head and mentally sigh for the umpteenth time, It’s hopeless.
After a pause, he also raised a brush and helped Hua Cheng fill in the last two verses. Once he was done, Xie Lian blew lightly and picked up the paper so they could both admire the poem they’d written together.
The ink upon the paper formed the four elegant phrases that had spread throughout heaven and earth.
“After seeing the vast sea, no water can compare;
Scattered from the peak of Mount Wu, there are no other clouds;
Many times I’ve passed through the flowers, yet I spare them no glance;
For half my fate is in cultivation, and the other half, in you.”
Even Eming, hanging beside the table, admired the work with a wide, unblinking eye.
Hua Cheng laughed. “Exceptional. Gege, quick, sign your name. These words will surely stun future generations and echo through the ages.”
Xie Lian had already signed Hua Cheng’s name at the bottom, but despite his urging, he couldn’t bring himself to pick up the brush and add his own name. Hua Cheng finished laughing and pretended to be serious.
“Gege, are you too embarrassed? Let me help you.”
He took hold of Xie Lian’s hand and wrote two characters with rough strokes. Not a single soul would be able to tell that those were characters at all if not for their place on a page, much less that they were supposed to be the characters of Xie Lian’s name.
Feeling ridiculous, Xie Lian could only lean his head against Hua Cheng’s chest and watch as his own hand wrote this thing. But suddenly, those characters looked familiar, as if he had seen them somewhere else before.
A moment later he remembered, and his eyes lit up.
“San Lang! On your arm!” he exclaimed excitedly, catching hold of Hua Cheng’s forearm and pulling up his sleeve. “It’s this!”
Back when they lived together in the old Puqi Shrine, Xie Lian had once noticed a tattoo on Hua Cheng’s arm. The word had seemed like it was written in characters from a foreign land. At the time he had chewed on the matter in his mind, but he never could have imagined that it wasn’t “foreign writing” at all—as it turned out, it was Xie Lian’s own name!
Hua Cheng also glanced at his arm and laughed. “Does gege finally recognize it?”
“I should’ve recognized it a long time ago,” Xie Lian said. “It’s just…”
It’s just…Hua Cheng’s handwriting was truly the craft of the devil. He didn’t need to say anything; Hua Cheng could guess what he was thinking and started laughing heartily. With one arm hugging Xie Lian around the waist, he gave his forehead a gentle peck.
“Don’t worry. As long as gege’s handwriting is beautiful, it’s fine. That makes me a million times happier than my own handwriting ever would.”
Xie Lian’s hand caressed the spot where the tattoo was. The ink of the tattoo was deep, and it was easy to imagine just how painful it had been to receive.
“Was this done when you were little?” he asked softly.
Hua Cheng smiled and pulled his sleeve down, nodding.
Then it was definitely something he had tattooed on himself. An image came to Xie Lian’s mind—a small boy sneakily carving the name of the one he admired into his own arm. So childish, but so brave.
A red string twined between ten fingers clasped tightly together. A scene from a year ago surfaced in Xie Lian’s mind—it was when Hua Cheng had dissipated into butterflies at Mount Tonglu.
In his final moments, Hua Cheng had sworn a soundless oath. Although it had been inaudible, Xie Lian still knew exactly what he said. They were the words Hua Cheng had lived by since he was a child and eternally thereafter beyond his death.
“I am forever your most devoted believer.”