Xie Lian knew his husband had many forms.

His most beautiful one, in Xie Lian’s opinion (though every single version of his beloved was beautiful), his most authentic one was the form of Hua Cheng. Stunning, regal, with an eyepatch and E’Ming at his hip. The one Xie Lian had ‘met’ him in — the form of San Lang. Young, mischievous, with an irresistible, boyish smile and a cute side-pony.

Then the form of Wu Ming. Quiet, adoring, and stubborn, with a wooden mask painted white with a black, closed-eyed smile. Wu Ming, whom Xie Lian hurt and mistreated terribly. Wu Ming was the ache in his soul; the gaping chasm in his heart and the grief that clouded in vision in the form of tears every moment he brushed Xie Lian’s thoughts. Thinking of poor, sweet Wu Ming, thinking of how strong, devoted Wu Ming so bravely died for him… it made him want to curl into a fetal position and cry until he ran out of tears. Wu Ming was the well in Xie Lian filled with guilt and shame and sorrow.

Hua Cheng has repeatedly denied holding any grudge against Xie Lian for his treatment of Wu Ming. Gēgē, he would say so softly, it’s alright. This one understands your everything, remember?

Still Xie Lian cannot rest. Cannot forgive himself. He’s not sure he ever could.

But he will try. He is trying now. Hua Cheng is sitting on the bed, dressed in dark clothing and his sleek, black hair fixed into a ponytail. It is the form of Wu Ming. A sight that makes Xie Lian feel like he is suffocating on remorse and misery. But he must stay strong. This isn’t only for him, but for Wu Ming, too.

He wanted to make it up to his most devoted believer.