striving for an A+ in therapy

Come and get it!

“You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”

- Wild Geese, Mary Oliver

Xie Lian, on the other hand, puts the polishing touches on his twenty-third drawing of his husband. This one is easily the best of the bunch! He sets his rabbit-hair brush to the side and lifts the paper, blowing on the ink so that he can admire it without fear of smudging it.

Lifting it, however, brings it to the attention of Mu Qing, seated to his left. He eyes the painting, and through Xie Lian’s communication array, a judgmental response comes through:

‘Are you drawing Crimson Rain Sought Flower at a budget meeting?’

‘Maybe.’

Mu Qing looks at the painting again, then rolls his eyes. ‘At least you drew all his butterflies.’

‘Those are hearts.’

‘…’

‘…’

‘…You drew him surrounded by hearts?’

‘Yes.’

‘…’ Mu Qing’s eyebrows knit. ‘Your Highness, you have a really warped view of Hua Cheng...’

Xie Lian shrugs and blows on his painting one last time to make sure it’s completely dry before he sets it down and admires it, ignoring the stares of the other gods and Ling Wen, who clears her throat and continues whatever she was saying.

An hour later, the meeting concludes, and Xie Lian happily departs without a backward glance. He’s still holding the painting when he returns to Paradise Manor. A smile tugs his mouth as soon as Hua Cheng waltzes into the room to greet him.

“Ge—“

Xie Lian rushes across the short distance between them to eagerly press his painting to his husband’s chest, hushing him. “I brought you a gift,” he says, barely containing his joy. He may be terrible at giving gifts to his husband, but he loves doing it.

When Hua Cheng grabs the paper, Xie Lian releases it. Full of anticipation, he waits, beaming up at his husband, who looks at what he’s been given. In an instant, Hua Cheng is laughing, warm and delighted. His eye sparkles. It’s not the laughter Xie Lian used to get when he presented his latest artistic endeavor to his husband—when Hua Cheng would laugh so hard he couldn’t pick himself off the floor because what he was looking at was truly, objectively terrible.

Xie Lian has improved since then. He has!

If only the same could be said for his husband’s handwriting…

“Gege drew me,” Hua Cheng says, as bright as the sun.

“Mm. The meeting was too long.”

“So you started thinking about me?”

“No,” Xie Lian replies, confused. “I’m always thinking about you?”

Hua Cheng’s eye widens, then softens. “Gege,” he says, then leans down and kisses Xie Lian. It isn’t a deep kiss, but it holds for a long time, long enough that Xie Lian is dazed when the contact breaks.

Hua Cheng doesn’t go far, brushing the tips of their noses together. “It’s perfect. But it’s missing something.”

Xie Lian thought he drew everything. He even remembered Eming. “What is it? What did I forget to draw you with?”

“It’s my most important thing. I really shouldn’t be pictured without it.”

“Oh. Your pearl?”

“No.”

“Your umbrella?”

A chuckle. “No.”

“…Well, what then?”

“You forgot…you,” Hua Cheng says. His nose skims along Xie Lian’s. His gaze is burning. “How could you forget what matters to me more than anything in the world?”

Xie Lian stares up at his husband, then buries his face in his husband’s chest, hiding his heavy blush. “San Lang…”

Later that night, Hua Cheng hangs the painting in Thousand Lights Temple—with one addition: a clumsy little Scrap Immortal holding the hand of the mighty ghost king Hua Cheng.

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