Threads of Devotion

Four

Two weeks and a half after Xie Lian left

The nights are hard. With the vast room dark, and with no familiar warmth of Xie Lian next to Hua Cheng in his bed, that was when the negative thoughts poured in, like a waterfall crashing down with no stop.

Hua Cheng would sometimes curl into himself, wrapping himself with the blankets as he stifled sobs. Was he always this weak? This emotional regarding His Highness? He would replay the day's scenes, replaying and remembering each and every heart-wrenching insult Xie Lian had told him, as if they were burning into his memory with an iron-hot poker.

"Useless trash."

"Worthless."

"Disgusting."

"I never loved you."

"Ugly."

"Who would love someone like you?"

"You should just die. Pity that you're already dead. Pity that I can't get rid of you yet."

Hua Cheng clawed at his hair as he hiccuped, ragged breaths escaping him as tears streamed down his face, akin to the waterfall of evil thoughts swirling in his head. He curled into himself even further, wanting to pry those words out, wanting to silence them. But they were coming from inside his head, so how could he stop them? Stop it. Stop crying. Nothing he said was false. You pathetic monster. Stop it.

At some point Hua Cheng started scratching at his forearms, wanting to feel the pinch and the pain. There was a slight buzzing in his ears, slight tremors throughout his body that caused him to become sort of numb, and he just wanted to feel something, anything. His thoughts were in turmoil- Hua Cheng was faintly aware that he probably wasn't in the right state of mind right now. But he didn't care.

He accidentally scratched a healing scab, and he winced, suddenly aware of the fairly new wound on his forearm and the burns on his hands that have reduced to a slight ache. The memories swallow him.

"I'm thirsty," Xie Lian had said earlier this afternoon. He was writing a poem of some sort, practicing calligraphy in the main room of Paradise Manor with Hua Cheng sitting in front of him. "Make me some tea, if you will."

Hua Cheng immediately stood, his chair scooting back as he did. "Of course, Your Highness," he said, like a loyal dog following orders. Xie Lian didn't look up as Hua Cheng walked away to complete his task.

When the ghost king returned, he carried a tray with a few teacups and a still steaming tea kettle on top. He set it down on the table, carefully pouring a cup for Xie Lian. The god didn't utter a single thanks as he brought the cup to his lips. The moment he made contact with the liquid, Xie Lian sputtered, almost dropping the teacup as he roughly set the cup down.

"What the- do you wish to burn my tongue?!" He snapped, and Hua Cheng flinched at the sudden shout, standing slightly bowed by the table. "Do you always have your tea boiling hot?"

"I- I'm sorry," The ghost king murmured. A part of him braced for another slap- something that had grown quite common the past few days. The smallest thing he did wrong could earn a lecture and a resounding slap. Not sitting up straight, speaking out of turn, writing bad calligraphy, (as Xie Lian still tried to teach him calligraphy, though more harshly.)

But now, Xie Lian shoved an empty teacup into Hua Cheng's hands, eyes dark and flashing with malice as a scowl was on his face. "Here- you try it, see how you like it if you like your tea so hot." He held the tea kettle in his hands, his calligraphy entirely forgotten as he beckoned Hua Cheng to hold out the teacup.

The ghost king knew what was coming but it endured it anyway. The scalding hot liquid overflowed over the teacup as Xie Lian kept pouring, burning Hua Cheng's hands. His grip on the teacup tightened, teeth clenching as he forced himself to stay quiet through the punishment. The scorching tea seared his hands, turning his pale skin red. Steam came from the tea, and even the carpet steamed from the tea that poured onto it. The burning pain was so immense, Hua Cheng let out a small squeak as he tried to not drop the cup. His hands and body shook, and he was sweating from the pain and the heat. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes but he knew he would get into more trouble if he cried in front of Xie Lian.

When the last of the tea kettle was empty, Hua Cheng let out a small, shuddery breath, eyes focused onto the cup as he tried to will himself not to shake. Pain was something he was used to. He could handle it. Not that it hurt any less, but he had learned to show little to no reaction from it, after much practice during his childhood days. It was the psychological toll that got to him.

"Drink it," Xie Lian muses cynically, as if satisfied with himself. He set the kettle back on the tray. Obediently, Hua Cheng did as told, squeezing his good eye shut as the burning liquid scorched the back of his throat, all the way to his stomach. His mind screamed as the nerves on his tongue were scalded, burning and turning numb from the heat of it all.

Once the tea had been finished, Hua Cheng accidentally let the cup slip from his grip, and it dropped to the floor, shattering into many shards of porcelain. His body shook from the heat and the pain. His hands hurt, and stinged as cool air came in contact with them. His mouth felt swollen as he gasped, tears blurring his vision. His head was limp, his hair covering his face as his mind reeled, still in shock, staring at the broken teacup on the floor.

Xie Lian flitted his eyes at the broken teacup. "Hm, what a shame..." he said chillingly, and suddenly reached over and grabbed Hua Cheng's left arm, slamming it onto the table. His vambraces were off, making it easier for Xie Lian to quickly roll up his sleeve, take a shard of broken porcelain from the floor, and stab it into Hua Cheng's arm.

The ghost king jerked at the burst of pain, letting out a small yelp before biting his lip to keep any more sound from escaping.

The spot Xie Lian had stabbed was the edge of Hua Cheng's tattoo of the god's name. Xie Lian watched as blood pooled from the wound, and slowly, torturously, he dragged the porcelain across the tattoo as he held Hua Cheng's arm tightly in place, crossing out the name with a streak of crimson red blood.

"My name doesn't deserve to be on the likes of you," he sneered, lips twisting coldly. He shoved Hua Cheng back, and the ghost king landed on the floor, clutching his bleeding arm close. Everything hurt now- his whole body was a large throb of pain as his chest heaved. He couldn't help it. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks and blood seeped into his robe as he stared up at Xie Lian with an agonized expression.

The god merely matched his gaze with a scrutinizing glare. "And don't bother healing yourself," he said, voice filled with contempt.

Hua Cheng shuddered now, as if he had just relived the whole thing. Small whimpers escaped him as he silently sobbed in the darkness. He was past the point where he wondered what he did wrong. He was past the point where he still had that slight slimmer of hope in him. He deserved it. He deserved it all. This was his fate. Everyone, even His Highness- everyone in his life would eventually leave and hate him if they didn't already.

What made him think he was ever worthy of His Highness's love?