Crown Prince and Ghost King

Chapter 7

Struck by the bluntness of that question, Xie Lian repeatedly blinked. Of all the things he expected Feng Xin – or Mu Qing for what mattered – to ask, that wasn't one of them.

He was expecting something along the lines of "why did you marry him" or even "is he forcing you to stay with him", because that's what his mind constantly told him when it came to that issue, because that's what people that didn't know how Hua Cheng loved his Crown Prince asked him – of course with the ghost out of reach – but... Feng Xin actually asked him if he was happy.

He didn't throw accusations, didn't drag Hua Cheng into the question. He asked him, and no one else. And he asked a question that couldn't be misunderstood in any way possible.

Was he happy?

Xie Lian thought about his days without Hua Cheng, years spent in complete loneliness for the majority of them. He used to walk day and night, searching for a place to stay, hoping to have dry shelter when it rained, or warm blankets when the cold seasons came around. Only a handful of times he could obtain what he wished for.

Money never weighed his pockets down, and those few handful of value never stayed with him for long, needed to buy food or, in the most fortunate cases, rent a room for the night. More often than not, Xie Lian was chased down by his terrible bad luck, and he would only find spoiled food, collapsed huts, and no one willing to show him some mercy.

He always smiled, always talked to people with extreme politeness and kindness, never complained once about his conditions, but...

Xie Lian wasn't happy, back then. He smiled, but it was only genuine for the people looking, not for his soul. Every smile he gave was backed by unshed tears and frustration, every polite word hid wordless pleas for people to have some pity.

It came to a point he had to eat from temple offerings, as he couldn't practice inedia forever. For Xie Lian was normal to find food in the dirt and eat it, despite its state, his stomach grumbling and hurting following too many days without something to digest.

He was always weak, always tired, but he kept collecting scraps and busking to make a living, to make just enough.

He wanted to help people, even if helping them meant putting a simple smile on their faces and nothing more. He did his best, every day, asking for nothing but some food and water in return, sometimes daring to add shelter into his requests.

But he couldn't really do anything.

Whispers and laughs about the fallen from grace Crown Prince of XianLe never died down. No matter where he went, he could always hear someone talking ill of his past. He kept smiling, even in the face of those words, those hurtful words that never failed to reopen old wounds. He had to.

Otherwise, if he were to let tears fall, Xie Lian would have crumbled under the weight of his own story.

He had some memories to cling on to, but the happiness of the past was nothing to him, in the present. Only a vague shadow, unable to dissipate the dark clouds of disrespect, hate, and disappointment people never stopped showing the disgraced god.

Sometimes, memories of a sad little spirit fire flooded his mind, gave him crumbles of hope. Love was still out there, the ghost reminded him, love could still come back. Love for his life, for the figure reflected in mirrors, for the hands he couldn't use to help people.

There were days in which Xie Lian couldn't even look at his own reflection, being it in a polished mirror of a distorted pool of clear water. Those days were the worst, the days where he remembered who he used to be, what he used to believe in, what he failed to do. It wasn't like the sheer terror and anger he felt when Bai WuXiang would taint his reflection with a horrible mask and funeral robes; it was just sadness, loneliness, a helpless sense of guilt Xie Lian grew to resent.