Chapter Text
Time passed and Xie Lian settled into his new life. He made, perhaps not friends, but functional relationships in his first year. Yanxun, his neighbour, kept him fed, seeming to have predominantly taken the task of his meals onto herself, or made sure someone gave him a meal in her absence. Each was delicious, a wide array of soups and pastries and roasted meats and nuts and vegetables and warm rice and fruits he had not tasted in years, with sweet biscuits tucked into the corners of his meals.
He slowly learned more about his coworkers, attaching names to ghosts. Of the croupiers, he knew Huxue in the tiger mask and Longtan in the dragon mask had been brothers in life, and evidently died together, though would not share the specifics of how. Wang Lu was a young woman with several features of a deer: antlers, inhuman eyes, long ears, and a soft fur that covered most of her. Heifeng was a black formless shadow who had yet to speak personally with Xie Lian, but he had often heard his whisper-quiet voice somehow in the ruckus of the Den on busy nights, taking bets and coin from patrons. Qianchou and Duxin were seen rarely, only ever called in on the busy nights. Qianchou was a short man with a featureless, unpainted wooden half-mask and four arms with the skill to make it look easy, while Duxin was a young woman with a mask that looked like crumpled black fabric who continually dripped black ink wherever she went. It at least vanished after a short time and was not something that required cleaning.
Of the kitchen staff, Lei-ge was there daily, Yanxun there most of the time, with Baihua, Liang Lin, Xinku, and Sun Liao rotating in and out on some kind of unfathomable timetable. Liang Lin was a quiet ghost, pure white in every aspect and adorned in a half-mask of white feathers. It was always entertaining to see her apron become a riot of colour through a busy night while the rest of her remained pristine. Xinku was an older woman wearing a mask of coins with long black, braided hair. Her most interesting feature was her hands which detached from her body, and she could often be seen reading an open book on the counter while her hands worked independently on the dishes or food preparation. Sun Liao wore a large mask of a boar and beyond that, appeared as a regular human man—until he had thrust his face and hands into the kitchen’s fire to pull a meal out of it and laughed heartily when Xie Lian had jumped in alarm.
Of his coworkers out serving on the floor, Lianzhu, Chunchun, and Dianshui were his most frequent conversationalists—or gossips if he was being truthful. All three loved the constant dramas of the ghosts who came and went on a nightly basis, and spent a fair portion of the evening flirting with whoever would give them the time of day—or night. Dianshui, a short, stick-like ghost with a half-mask of a dragonfly, was the most outgoing of the three, and the most likely to take a patron home, always returning looking very pleased with herself the next morning.
Lin Zhan he had met already, his sharp beak and sharper tongue quite difficult to miss. Diyong was an obvious shapeshifter, wearing a different shape every day with Xie Lian only able to pick him out by the mask of spiders he wore. He was fast and efficient at his job, and preferred to man the main bar rather than be traversing the floor with the customers. Shen Chou was the ghost who had been there the longest and was seen there the least. She was a much older woman with wide black eyes and black lips, her sharp, bone-white teeth peeking through whenever she spoke. Her half-mask was an old traditional demon mask. She didn’t speak much, though when she did it was either work related or whisperings of secrets that belonged to other people that seemed worryingly accurate.
Rounding out the staff was the pair of strong ghosts who worked as protection, Jianrupanshi and Dao Jian, and the single slippery spirit, Lao Yin, who did the majority of the cleaning and washing of uniforms around the edges of their lives. Dao Jian was shorter than Jianrupanshi but still taller and broader than Xie Lian. She wore two swords at her hip and a mask of pure silver which matched the decoration of her blade’s hilts. She had long, beautiful hair, unbound except for the front being pulled back into a high bun. Lao Yin was rarely seen except in snatches, skittering around the Den and washing their clothes and cleaning the floors. Xie Lian had never caught a decent look at him, only that he wore a cloth over his face, grey as the rest of his clothing was.
Xu Hao watched over them all with a loose, but controlled grip. He was almost always within the walls of the Den, ensuring the place was running smoothly in the long absence of their Chengzhu.
Of Hua Cheng, Xie Lian heard a great deal, though he did not see the ghost. He was easily the most discussed topic in Ghost City. He knew, based on how gossip had always worked in every place he had ever lived, that only some of it would be true, some of it would be false, and some would be some weird twisting of fact and fiction until the original piece of information was unrecognisable. So, he was sensible, filtering information down to its most basic form and he would reserve any kind of judgement on specifics until he had had a chance to see the man for himself. From a distance at least. Hua Cheng seemed powerful enough that Xie Lian did not want to put himself in the path of such a man. He had too many secrets of his own that he wanted to remain that way.
What he had deduced was that Hua Cheng was peerlessly powerful, unfathomably rich, exceptionally handsome, unbelievably skilled, and quite a lot of an asshole—and that was boiling it down. If nothing else, it told Xie Lian that Hua Cheng was almost universally beloved within Ghost City, which then suggested to him that the ghost was good at running his city. And really, based on his own experience in the Gambler’s Den alone, between how well he and the other workers were treated and how smoothly everything ran? Xie Lian could believe it.
Besides getting the hang of his job as the months passed, Xie Lian also found himself stepping in on other bets as he had the first, adding years onto his debt. Intermittently, humans would come to the Gambler’s Den asking for things. Many, so very many came asking for selfish trifles and riches and glories and power—but every so often, someone would come in who just needed help. For the first time in a long time, he found himself able to help people. Problems that he could help with came to him.
A father who found out too late his daughter was being married to a man who had beaten his past wives to death and was frantic to find a way to free her. A girl whose little sister had gone missing in the woods and desperately wanted her found. An old woman whose grandson was going to war with no experience wishing for him to become someone who could fight and live and come home again. More and more people on their last thread of hope, coming to the Den to cling to something.
It even seemed to deter his bad luck a little, with these people given regular odds as they rolled for themselves. His bad luck seemed content with adding years here and there, and tripping him up when carrying too many bowls or cups, or causing the shelves in his home to break. So, around half of the time, the bets were won, and these desperate people were returned home with hope in their futures. When the bets were lost, at least they were returned home no worse than when they entered, only adding time to Xie Lian’s debt. He was very content with how things were.
Outside of work hours, Xie Lian kept himself entertained and mostly out of trouble. He continued to live up to his previous reputation and rummaged through the garbage for whatever scraps or treasures he could find. He’d take them home, clean them up if it could be done, fix or repurpose them, and then sell them off to the stall keepers in the market towards the centre of the city. This way he managed to keep a small amount of wealth to himself for anything that caught his eye, or hand it off to any ghost that looked particularly in need of it.
This, in turn, meant that the ghost children of the city could now recognise him as the man who would slip them candy or coin if he had any. As a consequence of that, they had begun calling him Yutu, for his rabbit mask and white robes. They’d cry out dramatically that he had come down from the moon to give them the immortal elixir, before shoving the treat into their mouths with a grin.
They had been hesitant to accept at first, dubious of the apparent gifts, but eventually some took it and word got around that his gifts were safe. Xie Lian had found out why that had been a concern one afternoon, Ju-er wandering next to him and sucking on the hard candy Xie Lian had given him as they wandered through the market. Ju-er was one of the younger children that seemed happy to interact with him. He was perhaps five in appearance, and from previous conversations, he knew this guess to be about right for when he died, casually explaining to Xie Lian how he’d been beaten to death by some older boys from the village over some petty bullshit. There was very little that gave him away as a ghost, until he got scared or angry, and vanished into a little green ghost fire. The other children said he hadn’t been in the city long, so Xie Lian thought he was likely still working out his powers and form. Xie Lian thought he was very sweet.
“Lao Ti tries t’give us things,” Ju-er said conversationally. “We don’t take his things anymore though. If you did, you vanished—poof!—off the street. A-Qin reckons he eats ‘em, and A-Peng says that he’s ‘sorbing them, but is the same thing really, suckin’ us up for more power, y’know? Is gross, right?”
“Very gross,” Xie Lian assured him, internally horrified and furious.
He quietly dealt with Lao Ti within the next fortnight, coaxing more information about him from the children and then doing something about it. He appeared to have gotten away with it too when no one showed up at the Gambler’s Den in the weeks after looking for him for exorcising a ghost within their own city. Xie Lian didn’t regret it for a moment.
The street children, firmly keeping his secret, were completely enamoured with him from then on, muttering their knowledge of the city to him and all the fun things they saw. Thankfully, this was predominantly ridiculous gossip and dramas, and only occasionally was there something truly nefarious going on. Often they would ask for help with small things, needing help with repairing something or finding an interesting thing and wanting him to check it was okay. Eventually, word got around to others that the youngsters were close with, and Xie Lian found himself helping out around town with repair and a strange furthering of his scrap collecting business, when ghosts would just hand him things they were planning on discarding.
It was oddly nice to not be frowned upon for his behaviours that, in almost every human town he had been in, he had been ostracised for. He suspected it had much to do with the fact that many of the ghosts he came across had been exceptionally poor in life, or had difficult lives, and related awful deaths. It also likely had to do with the fact that human standards and sensibilities just tended to not exist here. It was strangely freeing. He felt less like an oddity for his inability to age or be truly hurt in any permanent way, when everyone else was fairly similar, if in a slightly-to-the-left fashion.
It was equally unusual how his luck was not so ruinous on a day-to-day basis in Ghost City, and especially in the Den. Xie Lian wondered if there was a higher density of poor luck amongst the ghosts that his didn’t feel as though it stood out so much, or if there was something about the city that caused it—protection magic of some kind perhaps. Whatever it was, Xie Lian was very grateful for it. He had lost so many jobs over the years from his misfortune through broken items and injury and angry customers. But here, the patrons broke more porcelain and furniture than he did on a regular basis and everyone was so accustomed to flights of anger and passion, so much so that it was practically expected. That he dropped things on occasion was brushed aside as a normal expense, and any injury he accidentally inflicted on himself was easy to hide and heal quickly when no one ever remembered that injuries happened to humans.
It was, if nothing else, a very comfortable little routine he had created for himself.
The Den tonight was busy and the ghosts were a little rowdier than usual. Two groups had already had to be escorted out for starting a far more intense brawl than was allowed. Now, Xie Lian paused to see a large ghost with an almost oxen-like build knock heavily into Lianzhu. She had been talking with him for a short time and it seemed to have reached a tipping point. His large hands swiped at her, gripping her arm and tugging. She snarled at him, the sound loud and ringing in the Den, as her other hand raked down over his, her fingers elongating into sharp points of bone and slicing through skin.
The offending ghost howled and ripped his arm away, deep green blood splattering across the floor. Xie Lian’s eyes tracked something, or some things, fly under the table, before the sight was lost to Lianzhu slashing across the ghost's face with a vindictive curse.
Dao Jian quickly stepped in, detaining the large ghost with a firm hand.
“Yeah, fuck off!” Lianzhu shouted after him, hand gesturing sharply in his direction as Dao Jian dragged the ghost from the Den.
“Are you alright?” Xie Lian asked, moving closer as Lianzhu scowled and dusted herself off.
She paused, her hand curling around her wrist. “Asshole! He broke my bracelet!”
“I think I saw something fall under the gaming table,” Xie Lian said, nodding towards Huxue’s table.
“Ugh!” Lianzhu let out, dropping down into a low crouch, the elongated limbs of her body protruding obviously. “How am I meant to get under there, I can’t see a damn thing.”
“Let me,” Xie Lian said. He set his tray off on an empty table, motioned for Huxue to move back, and lifted the table up and away, giving her room to move without crawling uncomfortably.
“Oh,” Lianzhu said, a hand delicately touched to her chest. “Why, thank you, gege.” There was something heated about the way she said it and Xie Lian felt a flush crawl across his cheeks. She then neatly knelt down and began picking up the beads.
There was a titter of laughter from where two of the other serving women, Chunchun and Dianshui, had congregated, watching the scene play out.
“Gege, gege,” Chunchun called, fluttering her fan in front of her face. “My bed needs lifting at home!”
Huxue, behind him, laughed and then whistled at him.
“Ah…” Xie Lian stood awkwardly, still holding the table as Lianzhu continued collecting up her beads.
“You’re stronger than you look, gege,” Dianshui said, wandering closer and eyeing him up. She petted him lightly on the arm, feeling the taught muscle of his bicep. “Oh very nice. You sure you’re not cold and lonely in that bed of yours? I’m very good at keeping the sheets warm—”
“I can’t get it up!” Xie Lian blurted out, falling automatically into old habits.
A beat of silence settled between them.
Dianshui snorted, then fully laughed, her shoulders shaking. He heard Huxue choke behind him and saw as Chunchun hid her smile behind her fan.
“Oh, Wujin,” Dianshui laughed. “Gege, darling, just say you’re not interested.”
“Ah.” Now he was properly blushing, silently blessing his mask for hiding it from them. “I mean, it’s just—”
“You’re a cultivator right? I heard Xu Hao telling Lei-ge that a while back,” Lianzhu said, pushing herself up from the floor, a handful of beads in her palm.
“Yes,” he replied, carefully placing the table back down, making sure it was perfectly positioned to where it had been before.
Lianzhu nodded. “I thought so. You one of those purity sorts then? No wine, no fucking, etcetera?”
Xie Lian nodded. “Ah, yes. Exactly.”
“So boring,” Dianshui said, leaning around his body, head moving in a way that made it clear she was checking him out more thoroughly.
“Aiyah, Dianshui,” Chunchun said, swatting her with the guard of her fan. “Stop leering at him. He’s not gonna fuck you.”
“What? I can still look,” Dianshui said, “and Yanxun said he was cute under there, too. A girl can dream, can’t she?”
“Oh gege, are you cute too?” Lianzhu asked, leaning in and obviously teasing.
“He is,” Huxue said.
Xie Lian turned to stare at him in astonishment and betrayal. He had been thrown to the wolves!
“What?” Huxue returned. “I saw your face when you lost that first time. You’re handsome, it’s a statement of fact.”
Dianshui sighed. “Why are all the cute ones unavailable or untouchable,” she lamented. “I wish Chengzhu would even glance at me. Touch me. Whisk me off my feet and carry me off to Paradise Manor!” All three of them sighed at the thought, and Huxue chuckled beside him.
“Is Hua Chengzhu handsome then?” Xie Lian asked.
“Is he handsome?” Chunchun asked, as if offended by the question.
Lianzhu scoffed, fingers fiddling with the bracelet beads in her palm. “Is the ocean wide? The sky endless?”
“He’s the handsomest thing you will ever see,” Chunchun continued. “Just you wait ‘til he comes back. Then you’ll understand.”
Dianshui sighed, a theatrical, put-upon thing. “I tried, you know—”
“We know,” Chunchun and Lianzhu echoed.
“—and he wouldn’t have me!” Dianshui cried sadly to him. “I looked so good that last time and he barely even glanced at me!”
“Maybe you’re not his type,” Chunchun replied haughtily. “Or maybe you’re not that pretty?”
“How dare you,” Dianshui replied, though there was a clear wry amusement to the edge of her tone. “I know he can’t be all that fussy. He’s taken all sorts back to his manor before.”
“Yeah, and they never give any kind of good gossip,” Lianzhu grumbled. “If nothing else, he pays them well to keep quiet about it.”
This sounded like a well-trodden argument between the three of them. Xie Lian couldn’t help but smile behind the mask. Hua Chengzhu must truly be something to be breaking so many hearts.
“Do you think his tastes are too wild or too plain?” Huxue considered out loud. “It has to be one of the two, right, for him to keep them so quiet?”
The three women made contemplative sounds.
“Either is fine with me,” Dianshui leered, and the other two laughed wildly, scolding her for her shamelessness before saying several increasingly shameless things until Xie Lian’s ears began to burn.
“Hey!” Xu Hao called from the other side of the room. “Stop gossiping and do your work!”
Lianzhu made a nyeh sound, as though sticking her tongue out at him from behind her mask. They scattered back to work though, Xie Lian putting the pieces of the conversation away in his mind, slowly adding to the haphazard jigsaw of Crimson Rain Sought Flower.
Everything remained very stable, an unshakable routine of work and wandering the city, until one afternoon, perhaps eleven months into his stay, when Xu Hao cornered him.
“How unlucky did you say you were?” the ghost asked, white eyes practically glowing in the low light of the corridor.
“The most unlucky,” he replied brightly. “No luck whatsoever.”
“Perfect.”
“It’s not a useful talent,” Xie Lian pointed out.
“It’s possibly about to be,” Xu Hao returned. “Come with me.”
Perplexed, Xie Lian followed Xu Hao at a pace. He was led into the room he normally changed into his work attire in and was handed a new pile of fabric and mask.
“Get changed,” Xu Hao instructed. “You know how to put all that on?”
He had a quick look through the different parts, and nodded. “It is not so complicated.”
Xie Lian made a little twirl with his finger and Xu Hao rolled his eyes at him, but turned around.
“Make it quick.”
“Thank you.”
Xie Lian stripped down, discarding his work clothes to the drawer he always placed them in and began pulling on the complex layers of the robes. It was fine work and fit him nearly right, Xie Lian using years of practice of wearing ill-fitting things to coax the fabric into wrapping him more snugly. It was bright red with black inner robes with black and gold patterning at the hems. It had a very high collar, reaching all the way up to the base of his jaw, effectively hiding all of his skin behind fabric or the wood of his mask. His hands were concealed by black gloves and a handful of glittering jewels hanging from the hems.
“Am I getting married?” Xie Lian asked with a laugh, fastening the given earrings to his ears and hairpiece in his head. Both were of fine make, though middling quality gold. The mask itself was more elaborate than those worn by most of the staff. This one had shape and texture to it, curving upwards to form long horns at the back of his head. A dragon, perhaps.
“No, nothing like that,” Xu Hao said. “We just need an extra at a table. High stakes game. One of them is cheating us.” He held out a pouch. “Here’s your coin. Bet as much or as little as you like.”
“Uh, are you sure?”
“It’s fake. We’re trying something. Let’s see if it pays off.”
Xie Lian nodded, took the purse, and affixed it to his belt. “Why am I doing this, if I may ask?” Xie Lian asked. “If you know they are cheating, why not just disperse them?” He knew the first time you were caught, you were taken from the premises and put on a list of people to watch. The second time, when you had clearly not learned your lesson, you were killed. The third, if that had not dispersed you, you were killed and your ashes hunted down.
“We will. Chengzhu will want to make an example out of him when he finally returns,” Xu Hao said. “But I want to know how he’s screwing us over first. I like to know what the popular tricks are. Makes it easier to counteract them but we have no idea what this one is doing, so we can’t accuse him of shit.”
That was smart. Xie Lian nodded. “Any particular role you want me to play for this?”
“No, whatever you’d like. Just sow a little chaos,” Xu Hao said, then added, “and perhaps keep an eye on the ghost in the peacock mask, see if there’s anything you can catch about him.”
Alright. Xie Lian took one last look in the mirror, tugging everything into its place and ensuring he stood like the well-off ghost he appeared to be presenting himself to be. He did look very fancy. Xie Lian let out a breath and mentally affixed a persona to himself, sliding easily into the quiet, reserved air he had exuded as Guoshi Fangxin of Yong’an.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
“Head up to the top room then, Duxin is running the game.”
He entered the topmost room, head held high and steps light but purposeful. Three other ghosts were already sitting at the table. He sighted his target easily, the ghost closest to the door in an extravagantly feathered mask of peacock tail-feathers. The ghost was dressed in equally elaborate robes of deep green to match the mask. The other two both appeared equally wealthy, one in robes of pure gold and silver, maskless as his head was that of white smoke. The other was a woman, appearing only perhaps sixteen, but dressed in several layers of rich blue silks that fanned out around her, each a different shade of the ocean, and adorned in a complex crown of gold in her hair that hung over her face in a jingling curtain.
“Welcome,” Duxin said, gesturing him toward the final seat available, a loose flick of ink landing on the table from her hand.
Xie Lian took the empty seat at the table.
“Name?” Duxin asked.
Well damn, that he hadn’t thought of. To cover any hesitation, he answered, “Wujin.” It should be fine, it was a fake name either way.
Xie Lian hoped it didn’t come back to bite him in the ass. Those hopes were not high.
Duxin, like the professional she was, kept twirling the dice between her long fingers and did not acknowledge that she knew him and did the same to the other three players. The ghost in gold named himself Shen Bo, the ghost in blue named herself Zhaogui, and the peacock, of course, named himself Kongque.
Chunchun appeared then, bringing a tray of drinks and setting one before each of them, smiling and flirting as she went, setting the table at ease while Duxin went over the rules. Xie Lian picked up his cup, swirling it lightly and finding it to be water.
Then, the games began.
Zhaogui and Shen Bo appeared to know one another, speaking amicably between themselves as the games were played. Xie Lian, of course, did miserably at each round, his dice rolls consistently the lowest, though continued to feign disinterest in the outcomes, laughing amicably along with the jokes Shen Bo made about his skills. Kongque remained mostly quiet, but was winning the most. Not all the time, to be sure, but, consistently more than the other three. Xie Lian was struggling to work out what it was he was doing to be able to cheat so well—assuming of course that Xu Hao was right and there was something nefarious going on. As far as he could tell, the ghost was just good at dice or extremely lucky.
“Hey, handsome,” Chunchun greeted Xie Lian as the next round ended, Shen Bo taking the win. She took his empty cup and placed another before him, leaning in quite close and smiling flirtatiously.
“Xu Hao wants a word,” Chunchun murmured in his ear, her hand dancing along his shoulder, continuing the facade.
She pulled away just enough to wink at him, petting the side of his face. “Come on, handsome,” she whined pitifully.
“One moment,” Xie Lian said, getting up from his chair. “The lady requires a minute of my time.”
“Make it quick,” Shen Bo said snidely. “She doesn’t have to come.”
Chunchun's lips twisted derisively at Shen Bo and she swayed her hips as she headed for the door.
Feigning excitement he followed her around the table—!
Xie Lian’s foot went through the floorboard beneath. Rotten wood or termites or something having damaged the integrity of the board.
He stumbled, foot losing purchase on anything, and ankle catching in the sharp jagged points of the splintered wood. Reflexively, Xie Lian grabbed the nearest thing as he fell. Unfortunately for him, this thing was the robes of one of the other ghosts, and with his strength and the force of his fall, the fabric tore loudly, beautiful silk layers ripping like paper, as they both landed on the floor with a resounding thud.
Xie Lian caught enough of a look to realise it was Kongque he had pulled down with him, when Kongque struck out at him. He blocked the hit easily, grasping the ghost’s arm and blinking at the sight beneath him. Robes tossed around him and ripped fabric against his hands, Xie Lian could see talismans and spells sewn into the inner lining of his robes, with small charms and red rope dangling loose between them.
Well, this explained some things. A quick glance told Xie Lian all he needed to on the effects of those various items—an exceptionally well made concealment spell explained why neither he nor the ghosts hadn’t been able to sense such a mixed array of spell-work—and exceptional luck was the least of his worries!
“Cheat!” Duxin shouted from above them, pointing at the charms now obvious on his person. “Shi-ge!”
Fearful of what the ghost could do to any of his coworkers, Xie Lian channelled the entirety of what scant amount of spiritual power he had within his body and lit the silk aflame. He targeted the worst of the talismans, things closer to curses than anything, and watched as it spread quickly.
Kongque shrieked, batting at the sudden burst of fire consuming his clothes.
He shoved Xie Lian off—and he went easily, his body suddenly a dead weight as exhaustion hit him. What followed was truly a masterclass in language, turns of phrases and curses that Xie Lian hadn’t heard in years being spat from Kongque’s mouth—much of it turned on Wujin himself.
From his place on the floor, Xie Lian watched as Jianrupanshi appeared and attempted to grab Kongque, who had torn the flaming robes from his body and tossed them at Duxin in retaliation. Quick as anything, Kongque pulled another talisman from his pocket and held it aloft—ah, teleportation, clever—and vanished in a flash.
Xie Lian let himself lay on the floor and recoup, eyes closed as he listened to the other players at the table make hasty excuses and flee the Den with their winnings.
“You alive?” Duxin asked an indeterminate amount of time later, poking at his side with the point of her boot. “If you’re not, I’m gonna sell your meat to Lei-ge.” A pause. “Might sell your body to Dianshui, she might pay more for you if you’re as cute as they say.”
“I’m alive,” Xie Lian replied, waving his hand loosely.
“Did he stab you?”
“No.”
“The fuck are you doing on the floor then?”
He did not feel like explaining the whole deal of cultivation techniques and the shitty effects of over-draining your spiritual energy from your body, so he just vaguely waved his arm again, saying, “Tired.”
“Fair.”
Xie Lian turned his head at the sound of new footsteps to find Xu Hao making his reappearance.
“Get him up,” Xu Hao said to Duxin.
Two sets of hands latched onto his body, hooking beneath his arms and lurching him upright. The room spun for a moment but thankfully settled quickly as Xie Lian found his footing. He was going to be tired for the rest of today, but that was fine.
Xu Hao leant down to pick up what was left of Kongque’s silken outer robes still smouldering on the floor. Duxin must have doused it with water at some point, the fabric looking a little waterlogged.
“Get back on the main floor, Duxin. Wujin, come with me,” Xu Hao said, exiting the room.
Staggering a little and holding tightly to the rail beside the stairs, Xie Lian followed Xu Hao back down and into his office.
“Take off the jewellery, you can get changed in a minute,” Xu Hao said, sitting down at his desk and laying Kongque’s robes before him. He tapped his lips contemplatively.
Xie Lian removed the jewellery from his body and the crown from his hair, placing it on the unoccupied corner of Xu Hao’s desk, glad for the loss of the weight of it just now.
“Not how I thought that might go, but it did work. If nothing else, hopefully it’ll scare him off for a while,” Xu Hao mused to himself, examining the remnants of the talismans within. “That fucker has been cheating us for years and I’ve been at my gods-damned wits end about it. I thought that if perhaps we threw a little bad luck in there, given how good his seemed to be, we could work out what he was doing. And well done, you got him for us—huh.” From within the sleeve of the robes, Xu Hao pulled a pouch. Xie Lian took a quick glance at it, but it didn’t appear to be spelled in any way. He watched as Xu Hao opened it and peered inside.
“Here, as a reward,” Xu Hao said, and tossed him the pouch. “Go home for the day as well. It’s quiet enough and Diyong will be in shortly.”
Xie Lian dipped his head. “Thank you. Do you know what to do with those spells?” he asked, still vaguely worried about a few of the remaining ones. They should be fine without anything to power them, but most ghosts had enough spiritual energy to do those kinds of things and the last thing Xie Lian needed was the Den exploding from the inside.
“No, but the Waning Moon Officer will. Don’t worry, I’m not going to touch them. I like this form.”
Ah, that was a name he had heard sporadically. Hua Chengzhu’s right hand man. Xie Lian had yet to see him himself, but the others liked to gossip about him when Hua Cheng’s own rumours were running thin. The only consistent pieces of information that Xie Lian had picked up about him was that he’d only been around the city perhaps fifty years at most, he was an unparalleled beauty beneath his mask, and he wasn’t a ghost—but who knew if any of that was true or not. It was possible he was a cultivator though, if Xu Hao trusted him with this kind of thing. They had all been fairly trusting of Xie Lian’s presence thus far, and most knew he followed a path. Or perhaps the Waning Moon Officer was just a messenger to wherever Hua Chengzhu was.
Xie Lian excused himself and returned downstairs to where he had left his clothes, changing quickly before heading out of the Den and into town.
He bounced the small pouch in his palm as he walked then glanced inside. Several silver pieces and a red-hued gem shone back at him. Xie Lian supposed he should spend it sooner rather than later, his luck never held long enough to save up anything before it was stolen or lost. Though, realistically, anything he bought had the same tendency to go missing or break. It was why scrap collecting worked so well—the quick turnover and low worth of items tended to work in his favour. Perhaps he could purchase a gift then, get the money off his hands and put it to good use quickly before his luck could take it.
He smiled to himself and began walking towards where he had seen a congregation of interesting stalls last week when he had been sent on an emergency ingredient run by the kitchen. Ah, that would be perfect actually, something for Yanxun. She was always the one to hand him his meals from the kitchen, and had delivered it to him at home on a couple of occasions where he had forgotten to pick it up. She was a quiet neighbour if nothing else, not loud like whoever lived above him with very heavy footfalls, or sang like the man who was in the rooms on his other side did. He at least had a rather nice voice and Xie Lian found himself humming along with him on occasion.
Xie Lian wandered for a time, vaguely considering getting her something useful, like a new pot or utensil, but that felt less like a gift and he had no idea what she actually needed in her own home. He discarded the idea of food—everything she had made him was much better than what he saw and smelled in the streets on any day—and he didn’t know if she needed or wanted any decoration for her home.
He did use a little of his reward on restocking his stash of boiled candies in his sleeve, a sweets stall catching his eye as he passed. The children had nearly eaten through all of what he had.
Then he paused by a jewellery stall, a few well made trinkets catching his eye. He’d seen her wear jewellery before, usually earrings or a necklace while keeping her hands devoid of such things in the kitchen while she was working. He perused the choices, making polite conversation with the stall keeper, and settled on a pair of small earrings. The part that attached it to the ear was made of silver, with a smooth, tear-drop blue gem attached to it that dangled prettily. Outside of work he had seen her wear her own clothes, often cool colours like blues and greens and purples, so this blue would match all of those nicely.
He bought the earrings.
Conveniently, he ran into Yanxun as she was arriving at her door, her arm around a basket and wrangling her door open.
“Oh! Yanxun!” Xie Lian called and his neighbour frowned at him as he approached.
“What?”
Xie Lian held out the earrings, cradled in his palm, facing up so she could see it. Trust was a fickle thing in Ghost City. “A gift.”
Yanxun stared at his hand. “What?” she repeated.
“Ah, well, I saw them in a stall while I was wandering the market,” he said. “I thought they would suit you.”
“Is this a joke? Are you making fun of me? Are you flirting with me?”
“Ah, no, of course not,” he said, shaking his head fervently. “It’s just a little thank you, for all the meals you make for me.”
“The meals I have to cook you?”
“Mn,” Xie Lian agreed, nodding. “Thank you for the food, it is always delicious.”
Yanxun made a small pleased sound in the back of her throat, adding, “Of course it is.” Then she reached out and picked up the earrings, examining them for a moment.
A smile appeared on her lips for half a moment, before it was gone. “I like the colour,” she said, her voice softer. “Thanks, Wujin.”
Yanxun pushed her way into her home and left Xie Lian outside.
He smiled to himself and entered his own home.
“Hey, Wujin,” Yanxun called, sticking herself out of her front door.
Xie Lian paused where he had been about to head out into the city. “Mn?”
She cocked her head back towards her home. “Come in for tea.” She then pushed the door fully open and headed inside, the doorway left open behind her.
Xie Lian’s hand hovered over his own door. He had not expected such a thing. It did not feel like a question either. He finished closing up his rooms and entered hers.
Yanxun’s home was well kept and neatly decorated. The layout was similar to his own rooms, though larger overall with a partition between the living and sleeping spaces. The partition was decorated with coloured fabrics and hung with small sparking stones and scraps of twisted metal. He could not see the bed and personal space beyond and did not wish to intrude, keeping his eyes within the living portion.
The kitchen was incredibly well stocked, watching her trawl through near-overflowing cupboards and shelves. Yanxun carefully selected a tea by smell, opening a series of decorated jars and sniffing each one consideringly. Once one was chosen, she set a small plate of biscuits at the bench. Several pieces of porcelain caught his eye as he watched her. Many different pieces in green and blue; cups, bowls, plates, all decorated with flowers or animals or abstract shapes. Each was a unique piece with no matching partner, though all of them complemented the others oddly well. A pot of water was set over the stove, heating slowly.
“You have a lovely home,” Xie Lian said, standing in the centre and awaiting instructions. He’d had her wave enough knives at him for not moving quickly enough to know to not push his luck with her.
“Thanks,” she replied, focus still on her preparations. Not looking up, she gestured over to the low table by the oven. “You can sit there.”
The table itself was, while not in perfect condition, well made and kept cleanly. The wood dark and mostly unblemished, the joins seamless. Three cushions sat proudly around it, varying deep greens and made of something soft that tickled his fingers, Xie Lian running his knuckles over it as he sat down.
He observed Yanxun potter around her kitchen a short time longer, finishing boiling the kettle over the stove and making the actual tea. She worked in complete silence, her focus absolute as she set everything on a small tray and brought it over to the table, laying it out before them and pouring them both a cup. His cup was a deep blue with green and purple flowers swaying across the sides. Her’s was a sky-blue with white birds soaring through white clouds. A pair of cranes perhaps.
“Thank you for the invitation,” Xie Lian said with a smile. He then realised he still had his mask on and quickly removed it from his face. “Do you have guests often?”
“No.”
“Ah, well it is an extra privilege then.”
She rolled her eyes at him, letting out a huff of laughter, then poked the plate with the biscuits on it closer to him. “Eat. Stop talking.”
He did, picking up one of the biscuits and quietly chewing on it. Xie Lian’s eyes wandered as he ate, taking in the small details of her space, noting the touches that made this room, while so similar to his, feel completely different. She made it feel like a home.
He glanced to the corner of the room, where what appeared to be a small shrine was set, or at least, something like one. It was a small table with a cushion laid before it, and atop it was a box. The box itself was closed, the contents a mystery, but around it were the usual trappings of a shrine. A small bowl with cakes laid before it. A porcelain vase sat beside that with three slightly odd looking flowers twisted from metal wire.
“The hell are you looking at now?”
“I was just admiring your home, you have decorated it beautifully.” He nodded to the shrine. “Those wire flowers are beautiful.”
She glanced briefly at the flowers. “Mn, thanks. How is your room looking then?” she asked.
Xie Lian replied, “The same.”
“Exactly the same? As when you moved in?”
“En.”
Yanxun frowned at him. “You’ve been with us a year now, and you’ve done nothing to it?”
“I didn’t see a need to.”
“Your cultivation was, something, hm, what did Dianshui say again…abstinence?”
“Yes.”
“But not asceticism?”
Xie Lian shook his head.
Yanxun was leant forward on the table now, elbows resting on the wood while her hands encircled her cup. Her eyes were unblinking as she watched him. “So why haven't you done anything?”
“I’m not sure,” Xie Lian said slowly. “I suppose I haven't had a single residence in so long that I just…forgot.” He laughed nervously, trying to explain. “The last few places I lived in were destroyed within a few weeks, or a rain was too heavy and destroyed it. Or a fire took it. Or I was chased out of town—anyway, I haven’t had the luxury for anything extra. Somewhere to stay is more than enough,” he said honestly.
“Right, we’re going out the next time I’m off,” she said firmly. “That’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard. We’re finding you something nice to decorate it with—did you ever get another blanket?”
“No, just the one that—”
“Was already there? Ugh, gross, that’s what we’re getting you then. A nice, thick blanket. I don’t know how you didn’t freeze your lovely little ass off last winter.” Xie Lian felt his face heat and the frankness of her words. Yanxun hummed thoughtfully, uncaring to his embarrassment. Her finger tapped at the side of her cup, nail clinking against the porcelain. “A pillow too, I think. What’s your favourite colour?”
“To wear, white—”
“That’ll get dirty too easily—”
“—but I also quite like red.” Realistically, after white, gold had always been his next favourite, but that was from a time when he could afford such luxuries. After that though, he had loved red, the vibrancy of it, especially the exact hue of the inner robes he had worn at the God Pleasing Festival. The matched red earrings worn with them and long ribbons trailing in the wind. As much as it had been a controversial end that day, he’d felt wonderfully extravagant. Colourful as a flower blooming in the summer as he leapt from the tower. Truly pleasing the gods. Well, it had pleased him at the very least.
“That’s lucky, living in this town,” Yanxun laughed. “We do see a hell of a lot of it here. Hua Chengzhu wears nothing else, the extravagant fucking bastard.”
Xie Lian was struck suddenly with how she looked so much younger laughing like that. He could almost imagine how she must have looked in life, flushed with colour and without the scar that trailed up her neck and jaw. He hoped it had been a good life. The fact she was still here suggested it may not have been.
“It may simply be a waste of time and effort,” Xie Lian said, wanting to make sure he made his point. “With my luck, something terrible will quickly happen to it.”
“What, so it's not worth the brief comfort?” Yanxun shot back. “No, we’re getting you something nice, and it can be nice for as long as it lasts. Besides, if we get it in red, some of that good luck may rub off on you.”
Ah. He supposed she had a point.
“Alright,” Xie Lian agreed.
Yanxun remained true to her word, dragging him out into the city a few days later. She bullied him into buying a thick blanket and fresh pillow from a woman whose head was completely separate from her body, either kept cradled in her arms or set on the bench she worked at within her shop.
They settled on a very plush blanket, the outside layer made of carefully woven cotton, the vast majority of it a deep red with white flowers scattered across it in a haphazard pattern that Xie Lian rather liked the look of. The inside layer was made of a thick dark wool that Xie Lian was resolutely not going to ask about the source of. It was beautifully soft though. Xie Lian had run his fingers through it, mind falling quickly backwards into memories of when everything he touched was so lovely. Deciding he definitely wanted this, they had settled on a plain pillow to go with it, just something small and a similar red hue, Yanxun adamant they match. Yanxun had chipped in in the end, scowling at him the entire time that it was a return gift for her earrings, and refusing to take no for an answer.
Thus, they had returned to his little room, Yanxun handing him a less tattered sleeping mat that he had listened to her dig out from somewhere in her bedroom. Then, they made up the new bed together, Yanxun shoving the old things in a cupboard, relenting at Xie Lian’s fears of having nothing if something were to happen to his new comforts. Then, after vanishing out the door for another short period, Yanxun had returned with two cups, two plates, two bowls, and a teapot. She proceeded to hide them away in his kitchen.
“They’re a little chipped,” Yanxun informed him as he attempted to dissuade her of such a thing. “I was going to throw these out anyway.”
“But—”
“I’ve seen you, Wujin, scavenging about in the trash around town—don’t think I haven't,” she snapped at him, her finger suddenly poking hard in his chest. “You’re taking these, or else I’m just going to leave them in the trash downstairs with your name written on them until you go find them yourself! Take the damn gift!”
He had laughed then, stunned and embarrassed and oddly joyful. He took them, helping her put them away in his cupboards.
“Now, next week I expect to be invited around for tea,” Yanxun said as she made to leave him, her shoulder leant up against the frame of his door. “So go and get some between now and then. I like jasmine best. A-Yu sells the best stuff in the east market. I’ll bring dinner—you’re too damn skinny.”
He felt a little indignant at her comment. He thought he’d been doing quite well the last year, finally having access to regular meals. He’d only been out of that accursed coffin for perhaps ten years, and putting weight back on when you had less than nothing to start and only sporadic access to coin and food after was quite the trial.
Letting none of those thoughts show on his face, Xie Lian nodded and she left.
After that, it seemed he had made himself something of a friend. He had done as asked, using the tips he earned that week to buy some jasmine tea and invited her in after what he had known was a long shift in the kitchen. She had arrived exhausted and drawn around the edges, but something bright in her eyes to see he had done as requested, happily setting herself at his table, spreading their dinner upon it, and watching him make tea.
This was at least something he could make without creating something that would have people passing out in a dead faint.
It became something of a routine then. Yanxun would have him around to her home some evenings for dinner before they would retire into Xie Lian’s home for tea and any sweets or biscuits he had stashed in his cupboard. They would talk, often about work and the daily nonsense that went on in the Den. They spoke of the goings on in Ghost City, and Yanxun would sometimes provide context for behaviours or traditions that did not exist in the human world. Sometimes they would just sit in the quiet and enjoy one another’s company.
Eventually, others would join on occasion. It was sometimes other kitchen workers who Yanxun had dragged home to sleep, as her place was closest. Other times it would be any of the others who lived in the same building as them. Huxue lived somewhere on the upper levels, Wang Lu on the ground floor, and Xinku the floor above Xie Lian and Yanxun. Even more rarely, someone would just get caught in conversation with Xie Lian and end up back at his house and accept the offer of tea.
Xie Lian still kept his mask on when he was alone with someone other than Yanxun, lifting it just enough to get food and drink to his mouth when he needed to. But when it was just Xie Lian and Yanxun, he would go without the mask. He reasoned that she’d already seen his face before now, but if he was being truthful with himself, he felt they had developed a certain level of trust and camaraderie and he wanted to be open with her. Though, even with her, he kept most of his truth to himself, only sharing stories that were unlikely to ever be connected to Xie Lian, the Flower Crowned Martial God, or the God of Misfortune.
While he kept his own business to himself, he learnt more about how his ghostly companions had come to work in the Gambler’s Den.
Wang Hu explained in her stilted, clipped tones, that she had been cursed as a young woman into a deer while she had still been alive and killed before anyone had saved her. She had appeared confused and nameless and angry in Ghost City and caused a great commotion until Hua Cheng collected her up and settled her in the Den with a new name and a purpose. Slowly, pieces of her memory had come back to her, though she remained in the Den, content with her new life.
Xinku had died from the severing of her hands from her body, punishment for a great theft she had committed as an older woman. She grinned widely as she told Xie Lian how she didn’t regret it—she’d been an exceptional thief all her life, and now in death she had hands that were even more nimble and independent from her body. She’d become notorious for her skill and had attempted to rob Hua Cheng in her arrogance. She’d been caught and struck a bargain with him, and from then on worked in his kitchens. Now, she just acquired new, beautiful trinkets any time she had an excursion to the mortal realm. Xie Lian suspected she still acquired new things in Ghost City as well, but he was not about to cause trouble for himself by suggesting it.
Huxue had even spilled the truth of himself and his brother over several bottles of wine, courtesy of Yanxun. Both men had been avid gamblers in life, swindlers and conmen of the most accomplished kind. They had inevitably ended up in the Gambler’s Den challenging Hua Cheng as the final bastion of their great careers. They had, of course, bet their lives on their win. They had lost. After their souls had been rendered from their flesh, they’d wandered Ghost City as ghost fires, slowly gaining form and power and consciousness again. When they were whole again, they returned to the Den to offer their skills as croupiers, and Hua Cheng had accepted.
It was strange, getting to know these ghosts so well. For so long, Xie Lian had been on the periphery of people’s lives, never staying anywhere long enough to know anyone. Trying not to get too attached because he knew either some great misfortune would befall him and he would be run out of town, he would somehow die and have to leave in order to not be run out of town or harmed, or else he just had to move on to avoid suspicion of his unchanging, deathless body. There were variations on these themes, of course, but they were the most common, and moving on quickly had just become the safest option for him. Now, he knew small, useless things about these people, like Yanxun’s favourite tea being jasmine, or that Wang Lu’s antlers did shed and the itch of it drove her mad, or that Lei-ge had an awful habit of confidently singing the wrong words to songs in the kitchen and driving the other staff to distraction with it.
He, strangely enough, really liked his life and home in Ghost City.
As time passed, he settled in further. When he began earning more coin from the repairs and trash collecting, he did as he had done before and bought small trinkets for the ghosts he worked with. Thus far, he had only managed Yanxun’s earrings, a new woven chain for Lianzhu to restring her bracelet beads on, and a new hairpin for Chunchun. He was keeping an eye out for more, glad to bring little joys to his coworkers as they slid further and further into the friend category in his mind.
Nearly two years of routine and making himself a home and a place in Ghost City, Hua Chengzhu returned.
It was a quiet night. The patrons had been sparse and subdued as heavy rain fell outside. The sound of it was audible even through to the lowest floor of the Den, a low rhythmic pattern interrupted by the occasional flash of lightning and a delayed rumble.
Xie Lian went about his normal tasks, leisurely and with moments for talking with the others in the back halls and corners of the gambling floor when things were truly dead.
A sudden hush fell with a flash of lightning that illuminated the now open doors.
Xie Lian paused in his walk across the balcony, then quickly stepped to the edge, worried another fight had broken out, only to see the wave of patrons part around a singular figure.
A ghost beside him leant over the edge to stare down beside him, a hushed and reverent, “Crimson Rain,” on his lips.
Ah, the Lord of Ghost City.
Xie Lian watched him in silent fascination. His mere presence excited the ghosts around him, whispers and stares and fervent hand motions rippling out around him. He was always allowed a wide berth, but the crowd strained to be as close as they dared.
Xie Lian could not blame them.
He was handsome. No, that wasn’t a good enough word for it—he was stunning. Hua Cheng was tall, easily a head taller than Xie Lian even at this distance, standing proud on two very shapely legs clad in dark leather boots. While the distance between them was too far for sound to travel clearly, he could see small silver bells jangling at his boots, sparkling when they caught the light. His robes were maple-red, well-fitted and falling in a crimson wave around him, the silver embroidery shining as the light caught it at certain angles. At his hip rested a very fine silver scimitar that Xie Lian itched for a closer look at. His hair was loose, falling in long, thick waves down his back and curling handsomely around his shoulders, framing an impassively handsome face. Two deep eyes framed by dark lashes, a sharp nose and curved lips, the edge of one side quirked upwards. He shone in the low light of the Den, cast in red light and deep shadow.
He was almost too lovely to look at.
Crimson Rain Sought Flower held the attention of the room all the way up to his personal chamber that had been pointed out to Xie Lian on his first day, still strung with sheer red fabric. Hua Cheng strode confidently up the steps, then paused halfway, turning to stare back at the Den.
“Well,” Hua Cheng said, voice low and smooth, yet still reaching every corner of the room, “don’t let me keep you from your games.” The Ghost King flashed the Den a dangerous smile and vanished behind his curtain.
Xie Lian shivered, some unseen power rippling through him.
He dropped his gaze from the silken doorway, suddenly feeling flushed and somehow oddly guilty for just looking.
The token at his wrist cooled, and Xie Lian was glad for the diversion. At least the kitchen staff were sure to be interested in the news. He headed quickly downstairs, trotting down the steps, making sure to keep his eyes and ears to himself as he did so.
“Hua Chengzhu is here,” Xie Lian said to the kitchen as he walked in, heading towards Yanxun and where the ordered food awaited him.
Yanxun looked up at that, frowning. She was wearing the earrings he had gifted her again.
“How’d he look?” Lei-ge asked.
“Uh, tall? Very, ah, impressive. Handsome…”
A moment of silence and a few looks passed between the staff. Then the kitchen fell apart into laughter.
“His mood, Wujin, we’re looking for his mood,” Baihua replied through their cackling.
“Oh. I don’t know.”
Yanxun raised her brows at him. “You got distracted by the fact he’s disgustingly attractive, didn’t you?”
Xie Lian laughed awkwardly. She had him pegged exactly. The words of the other waitstaff haunted him suddenly, the three ghosts gossiping about how beautiful Hua Cheng was. Someone from the back whistled.
“Who’d have thought you’d have it in you?” Yanxun crooned, leaning forward on the bench, her chin resting in her palms. “Sweet thing like you, Wujin. Our own little white lotus has eyes.”
“I didn’t mean to—!” he tried to explain, and then snapped his mouth shut. That just made him sound even more guilty.
Yanxun snorted, shaking her head at him. “Take the orders and go,” she said and turned away from him, clearly still laughing.
Xie Lian picked up the tray, rearranging the dishes atop to make it more balanced, and maybe just for something to do with his hands, before he headed for the door.
“Try not to look at Chengzhu’s ass!” Baihua called as he left. “It might just be fatal for you.”
Shouting and laughter followed their words, followed by a shriek that suggested Yanxun and turned a knife on someone. Xie Lian had no idea whether to laugh or cry at such a situation. How embarrassing. Ah well, it was at least a feeling he had grown used to over the years and quietly shoved it down, refocusing himself on where he was taking these meals.
What had been a very relaxed night quickly became a raucous scene of activity. Shouting and excitement filled the air of the Gambler’s Den. Word had evidently gotten around Ghost City of their Lord’s return, and every creature without a heartbeat had come flocking to their doors wanting food or wine or a prize.
The intensity of the betting had risen with the crowd, ghosts clamouring towards the room Hua Cheng sequestered himself in, vying for a go at the main table.
Like the crowds, most of the staff who had been off were pulled back in, Chunchun grumbling her way in about not getting enough beauty sleep, while Dianshui was practically glowing with excitement as she dragged Chunchun in the doors. All of the croupiers were pulled in as well, even Qianchou who Xie Lian hadn’t seen in weeks.
Xie Lian couldn’t help himself. He kept casting glances toward the red curtain behind which the lord of the city presumably sat. Xie Lian, while he had never entered the space, had to assume there was some kind of very fine seat in there. It came with the territory of ruling, he knew that. The trappings of wealth and power had not changed in nearly a millennium.
For much of the time, Hua Cheng was silent within his chamber, presumably watching the goings on of the Den, or entertaining himself in some other way. The first time a ghost had approached to bet, a hush had fallen and hundreds of eyes turned to watch it play out.
Hua Cheng was ruthless in his playing. Winning most games, losing some, though often the winning gamblers came back for more, and rarely did they win a second time. Xie Lian was run off his feet for most of the night, serving and collecting drinks and cups and plates and bowls, weaving his way through the thronging crowd.
Finally, Xie Lian found a moment to be able to pause in his work, Shen Chou pulling him up beside her to let him watch for a time. He leant himself beside one of the poles on the second floor balcony, Shen Chou on the other side of it, watching the tumultuous sea of ghosts below. Longtan was manning the main table now, organising the chaos of the patrons and drawing Hua Cheng’s attention when it was needed.
“He's got extraordinary luck, you know,” Shen Chou told him, her raspy voice only just audible in the din.
“Hua Chengzhu?”
“Yes, yes,” she replied. “He only loses if he feels like it.”
Xie Lian blinked at her in surprise. “Really?”
“What? You don’t believe this old woman?” she accused, swatting his arm as though he were an unruly child. “How disrespectful kids are these days.”
He couldn’t help but laugh and turned his attention back to the table as a ghost called for Hua Chengzhu, the ripple of red curtain the only answer. Longtan took it as assent. The ghost bet his left hand for a blade that would never dull.
The ghost boasted and raved like the best of them, presenting a self-assured front as he made it, dressed in fine black and grey robes and several rings on both hands. He took the dice from Longtan and rolled.
He rolled a four and a five. Nine, not bad.
Hua Cheng rolled double sixes.
The crowd cheered, jostling around the loser until someone tripped him, sending him sprawling to the ground before Hua Chengzhu’s alcove. Xie Lian had to go to the cellar to restock on wine as the collateral was collected, and missed the specifics. However, given what he had bet, he could easily guess the outcome.
When he returned and restocked, quickly being drawn back into serving, he lost himself in the current of the crowd. At the sudden whispers of the ghosts beside him, Xie Lian looked over to Hua Chengzhu’s room again.
Hua Cheng stood paused at the entrance to his chamber, leaning casually against the frame of it. His forearm held him up, hand curled artfully by his head, as the red fabric pooled against his body. His eyes scanned the room loosely, disinterest worn on his body, but attentive in his stare.
When Xie Lian next looked up from passing over a bottle of wine and glasses to a raucous group of ghosts pressed against the wall in the main chamber, Xie Lian found Hua Cheng’s eyes on him. He was suddenly very thankful for the mask as his eyes darted nervously around to make sure he wasn’t missing something he should be dealing with. There wasn't, but Hua Cheng did not stop staring. It was a heavy thing.
Panicking a little bit, Xie Lian quickly offered Hua Cheng a bow, acknowledging his attention and Xie Lian’s own station. Finally, the Ghost King shifted his focus elsewhere and Xie Lian scurried off, quietly hoping to keep the ghost’s attention far, far from himself.