For three whole months, the heavens sang.
Golden petals drifted from unseen skies, koi fish leapt from celestial rivers in celebration, and in every realm, mortals and immortals alike lit incense and offered silent thanks to the new god of love. Laughter lingered in the wind, music filled the halls of heaven, and dreams were sweetened with the scent of blooming plum blossoms.
But all things, no matter how dazzling, eventually return to quiet.
On the fourth day, the skies once again resumed their soft, peaceful drift.
Far above the bustling clouds and grand golden palaces, nestled in a secluded corner of the heavens, sat a small house made of polished wood and shimmering cloudstone. Gentle white mist curled lazily around the foundation, and soft windchimes—made from lotus seeds and dried jade bells—whispered songs only birds could understand.
Behind the house stretched an ancient tree with bark the color of ink and leaves of deep red, like fire caught mid-fall. Each leaf was etched with names—two by two—shimmering ever so faintly in silver light. It was the Celestial Tree of Bonds, keeper of all fated ties in the mortal and immortal realms.
Perched delicately on one of its thickest branches, a small white snake gazed down at the world, its pale body coiled loosely, tail flicking in idle thought. It rested its head on its coils, blinking slowly, as a content sigh escaped its narrow snout.
"Well," it muttered, eyes watching the last of the celebratory cloud lanterns fade into mist, "they've finally calmed down. Took them long enough to stop swooning over your promotion."
With a flick of its body, the snake slithered back along the branch, passing over dozens of glowing name-pairs until it slipped through the open window of the house.
Inside, light poured in from sheer silk curtains. A low table sat beside cushions arranged in casual disarray. Scented incense curled from a burner shaped like a peony, and delicate scrolls littered the floor like fallen petals. Everything was graceful, if not slightly unkempt.
And right in the center of it all, lying in the most undignified position possible, was a figure in pure white robes.
Lord Hua Lang.
He lay flat on the wooden floor, one leg kicked up and folded over the other, the other leg sprawled so far to the side that the hem of his robe had fallen to his knees, exposing smooth, pale skin that glowed like snow under morning sun.
A golden book placed on his face shimmering slightly with a few words appearing and disappearing.
It was the holy book of matrimony.
The holy book was simply just used as a sunshade—flapped gently over his face, its pages rustling with every lazy breath.
The little snake slithered across the floor and climbed up his side, tail flicking sharply against the book.
Smack.
"lord! Stop using the holy book as your sun shade!"
"yeah yah…" a lazy voice answered him muffled by the book.
"Tsk," it clicked its tongue. "If one of those fairies saw you right now, they'd faint from sheer shock. The noble, mysterious Lord Hua, sprawled out like a lazy mortal teenager? Scandalous."
Hua Lang groaned softly, removing the book with one hand and blinking up at the ceiling. A loose strand of black hair drifted over his lips, and he puffed it away with a gentle phoo. His mouth curved in a grin like moonlight through clouds.
"What?" he said, voice still hoarse with sleep. "Jealous of your lord's beauty?"
The snake gave an exaggerated full-body shudder. "As if! I've seen pigs with more grace."
"Oh?" Hua Lang sat up lazily, brushing his tousled hair back with one hand. "You seemed pretty taken with me last week when I wore that phoenix-sleeved robe."
The snake narrowed its eyes. "That's because you nearly tripped over the hem and took me down with you. I was bracing for death."
Hua Lang chuckled, stretching his arms above his head. "Well, if I go down, you're coming with me. It's called loyalty."
"It's called dragging me into your nonsense," the snake retorted, flicking his master's ankle with its tail. "Besides, what kind of newly appointed god of love naps through his first official divine duty?"
"Official duty?" Hua Lang blinked, looking around as if the very idea was foreign. "What duty? I already smiled at three marriage requests and nodded at a confession dream last night. That's enough godly work for one week."
The snake stared at him, deadpan. "You also snored through half of it."
Hua Lang shrugged with zero shame. "Even gods need beauty sleep. Especially the god of love."
"You're impossible."
"And yet, here you are," he said smugly, reaching down to flick the snake on its nose. "Still with me after all these centuries."
The little snake sniffed and slithered into his sleeve with a grumble. "Only because if I don't watch you, you'll probably start matching celestial couples based on how pretty their shoes are."
"They say the eyes are the windows to the soul," Hua Lang mused, flopping back down with a pleased sigh. "And shoes are windows to the ankles. It's practically fate."
The snake hissed something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. It twisted into the form of a slim young man, robes of pale green cascading gracefully over his form like new willow leaves in spring.
His features were fine and fox-like, with a mischievous tilt to his eyes and the faintest pink hue to his lips. His black hair was half-tied with a silk ribbon, the rest tumbling over his shoulders in soft waves. The ends of his long sleeves trailed the ground like water.
He blinked down at Hua Lang, still half-curled in repose, and sighed.
"Honestly," he muttered, kneeling down beside him. With the care of someone handling something sacred, the young man lifted the book that lay discarded on Hua Lang's chest. His fingers trembled only slightly as he turned it over to inspect the cover. Once satisfied it was unscathed, he exhaled in relief and placed it gently—reverently—onto the low table beside them.
Then he turned back.
"You—you absolute ruffian of a god!" he snapped, smacking Hua Lang square in the face with the edge of his flowing sleeve.
Smack.
Hua Lang groaned, caught completely off guard. "Wha—what now?"
"You handled the Holy Book of Matrimony like it was a pillow!" the young man cried, glaring at him with the full wrath of a wronged librarian. "Do you even realize the spiritual significance of that tome?!"
Hua Lang rubbed his face, blinking up at him with unrepentant eyes. "It's just a book," he said with a shrug. "I have an entire library full of them. Want me to toss you one with prettier calligraphy?"
"Just a—" The young man's face went pale, then red, then pale again.
He let out a strangled, outraged hiss, stomping his foot as his sleeve fluttered dramatically in indignation. "It's The Holy Book! The one that holds the threads of every fated pair since the dawn of time! If even a single page tears—if even one word smudges—all of love as we know it could collapse! Chaos! Riots! Mass breakups! Celestial divorces!"
He paused for breath, chest rising with fury.
"And worst of all," he continued ominously, eyes narrowing into slits, "as the newly appointed Lord of Matrimony, you would be held accountable."
Hua Lang blinked, sitting up slightly. "…Accountable?"
"Sentenced!" the green-robed youth announced, voice rising with theatrical intensity. "To the mortal realm! For five hundred years!"
"That's not so bad."
"As a chicken."
Hua Lang's face froze. "Come again?"
The young man, Lin Yu, leaned in with satisfaction glowing in his eyes. "A chicken," he repeated sweetly. "A loud, round, feathered, crowing-at-sunrise-every-morning chicken. Plucked and roasted before your time. That's what awaits any god who dares mistreat the sacred texts of their post."
Hua Lang went very still, eyes shifting to the book sitting serenely on the table. Then, as if afraid even a breeze might knock it over, he extended his arm and ever-so-gently pushed it further away from himself.
"…Oh," he muttered. "It's that bad."
"Yeah, it's that bad," Lin Yu said triumphantly, crossing his arms and looking far too pleased. "And don't think your pretty face will get you out of this one. Even your legs can't seduce the heavenly tribunal."
"You give my legs too much credit," Hua Lang muttered, folding them demurely beneath his robes with the grace of a chastised maiden. "They've never had to do any seducing. They're just naturally alluring."
Lin Yu sighed, turning away and muttering under his breath. "Heaven help us. We are all doomed."