It's incredible that he doesn't cry. He must just be too tired, too wired, to let it out. Maybe his body is saving the liquid for something.

He doesn’t look up when Baiyi passes. Probably doesn’t even remember him. So what. You don't need a rosebush to remember you, you just enjoy catching sight of it here and there.

That night he lies in bed alone until the moon is high. When the rest of the house is deathly silent, except for the light snores coming from behind every door, he sneaks in slippered feet through the halls and over to the covered kitchens. There’s faint light coming from the smoldering hearth, where the coals are piled to keep them warm for tomorrow’s early start. Someone has curled up by it on a mat, like a scullery maid. But it’s not a maid, it’s a man. A tall long-legged man. His husband. The dubiously immortal master of Changming manor. What the fuck, Xie thinks.

If a little fondness slips through, it apparently only makes Han Ying bolder. “Would you allow me to call you Valley Master, if we did?” Wen Kexing laughs under his breath at the brazen request, tipping Han Ying’s face back with two fingers beneath his chin. Narrows his eyes and looks down at him, assuming an air of cold indifference. “Are you a ghost, Han Ying?” “I could be,” Han Ying says quietly. “If you wanted me to be.”

Xie'er goes viral dancing a drunken tango with a stranger. It's probably Wen Kexing's fault. (The competitive ballroom AU you didn't know you needed.)