Please: A 🍖🍃 One-Shot

Please

Shi Qingxuan's eyes were lifeless. His gaze was unfocused as he stared

at the row of urns atop the altar before him and at those two shredded fans on

the ground.

It was a long time before he mumbled, "...I want to die."

"Dream on," He Xuan responded coldly.

He Xuan extended a hand toward him, and Shi Qingxuan closed his eyes.

[excerpt from TGCF volume four, chapter 65]

♡—

He Xuan paused.

The foreboding sense that someone else was there with the three—now two—of them suddenly disappeared. He guessed it was Hua Cheng, snatching his beloved out of the Soul-Shifting Spell Xie Lian had used to spy on him and Shi Qingxuan. He had known that Xie Lian's soul was there the moment the spell was cast. This was He Xuan's territory, after all.

The dead weight that was Shi Wudu's severed head dropped to the floor with an echoing thud.

"...Ming-xiong?"

"Go to bed."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Make it quick."

"I love you."

"..."

"Okay, that's all. Good night, Ming-xiong. Sweet dreams."

A loud, sudden bang broke He Xuan's reminiscence.

Shi Qingxuan spasmed, throwing his head back into the wall behind him, successfully knocking himself unconscious.

A knot he didn't even know was there tightened in He Xuan's heart. He reached out again, this time to break the chains binding Shi Qingxuan to the walls.

Shi Qingxuan, practically lifeless, slumped to the floor. He Xuan knelt before him and gently picked him up with the most care he could muster, with one hand supporting the former Lord Wind Master's back and the other his legs.

The ever-maddening knot twisted tighter, an unbearable feeling of impending doom chilling He Xuan's spine as he remembered only a few long seconds ago.

Shi Qingxuan had wanted to die.

What have I done?

As much as he loved the feeling of ripping Shi Wudu's arrogant head off, as much as he enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing Shi Wudu kneel and kowtow before him, He Xuan loved Shi Qingxuan almost as much, perhaps even more than that.

He Xuan stood and walked silently through the halls of the Nether Water Manor into a spare guest room. It was dusty, but it couldn't be helped: He Xuan had spent the last couple hundred years spying on the heavens for Hua Cheng so he would've had no time to clean even if he desired to.

He did his best to wipe the bed clean of dirt and grime collected over the centuries and propped Shi Qingxuan on the pillows.

He Xuan was dead, which meant getting injured was a challenge. He didn't have any medical supplies for a bleeding human who might or might not be concussed once he awoke, so in the meantime, he ripped a strip of Shi Qingxuan's robes with a whispered 'forgive me' and wrapped that around the other's head.

As he sat next to Shi Qingxuan, He Xuan realised he could never be sorry for what he had done.

He resented Shi Wudu with his whole being, and it was indeed Shi Wudu that led to his existence as a Calamity-level ghost. Revenge was all he could think about as he exchanged pleasantries with the now-deceased god, as they became closer 'friends.' It was the whole purpose of his time above hell, right?