A ghost king dead thrice, clad in crimson. A god ascended thrice, donning white. Two old souls bound to one another Lie beside each other at night. When they wake in the morning, they hold The most precious thing to their soul. Whole worlds they would cross To keep the other from being lost. For they have felt the numbing pain Of reaching out to empty space. Pray they never loose their second half, For their missing piece is all they have. Hualian oneshots. Expect fluff, angst, and smut. I do take suggestions. Please do not repost or adapt without my explicit permission. I only own the plots. None of the images here are mine, and all of these characters belong to our goddess Mo Xiang Tong Xiu.