infinities within infinities

“Don’t get me wrong,” Xie Lian says, “I’m really grateful for the donation, but I don’t think it’s right to name the library after me.”

But the man in the three-piece suit seems insistent. “You’re a groundbreaking force in the world of philosophy,” he says ardently. “I’ve read your Man, Thrice Ascended at least ten times. What you have to say about the concept of self as the infinite is revolutionary.” He grins. The leather of the eyepatch over his right eye gleams in the sunlight. “The leastyou deserve is to have libraries named after you.”

Xie Lian looks him over. This Hua Cheng is known as a reclusive billionaire, but there’s nothing withdrawn about him now, as he surveys Xie Lian with a bright eye. Instead, he’s almost preternaturally relaxed, hands in his pockets, smiling as bright as if he’d captured the sun. Despite the money and the insistent words, there’s nothing intimidating about him.. Xie Lian rather likes him.

“Well, thank you, I suppose, Mr. Hua,” he says carefully. He still isn’t sure about the Xie Philosophy Library concept. He looks up at the building and tries to imagine his name on the placard; it just seems preposterous. The dreams of a very young graduate student who thought he could change the whole nature of philosophy. Now, a fool’s wish. That it would be granted so suddenly, and by the young man in front of him who can’t be out of his twenties? Unimaginable.

“No need to thank me,” Hua Cheng says, shaking his head. “The very least I could do. Do you need a ride anywhere, Professor?”

**

Hua Cheng’s car might as well be a spaceship for how much it sticks out among the dumpy minivans and compact cars that surround it in the parking lot. Black, sleek, and gleaming, it truly seems to have beamed here from some point in a glittering future. Hua Cheng unlocks it with the touch of a button, and then, with another, the passenger side door swings open of its own volition. Xie Lian peeks inside. The interior is black as well, but for some touches that stand out in burning crimson.

“Go on, Professor.” Hua Cheng is leaning on his side of the car, casting a sideways glance at him. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Xie Lian obeys, ducking his head to get in. “You really needn’t call me Professor,” he says as Hua Cheng joins him on the driver’s side.

“What should I call you, then?” Hua Cheng’s smile is devastatingly brilliant, and Xie Lian is glad he’s sitting, because his knees have just gone to jelly. “I could call you gege, if it’s not too informal.”

He’s teasing – at least, Xie Lian thinks he’s teasing – but honestly the word comes out of his mouth more naturally than professor, and Xie Lian likes the sound of it better. “Gege is fine,” he says lightly.

“But in return,” Hua Cheng says, starting up the car, “you have to call me San Lang.”

“Why?” There’s something buzzing in Xie Lian’s brain now about the concept of naming, what we call ourselves versus what others call us, but he shunts it aside.

“Why do you think?” The car pulls out of its space, and a low rumble echoes in Xie Lian’s gut as it starts to navigate the parking lot. Hua Cheng is glancing at him between peeks in the rearview mirror. “You know what they say about us billionaires, we’re eccentric. Humor me.”

“Very well, San Lang,” Xie Lian replies, and he likes the sound of that, too.

It’s ten minutes of buzzing around the downtown streets before Xie Lian realizes he never gave a destination. “San Lang,” he says carefully, “where are we going?”

“Here and there,” Hua Cheng says. “I want to pick your brain about Man, Thrice Ascended.”

“Oh.” Xie Lian is flattered, and honestly the concept of riding around aimlessly in this sleek machine appeals to him. “Go right ahead, then.”

“To tell you the truth,” Hua Cheng says, “I have trouble wrapping my head around the concept of the self as infinite. Unless you believe in a higher power, the concept of self seems painfully finite to me, as it only exists between birth and death. Isn’t that a pretty limited span?”

“Only temporally,” Xie Lian replies. “Did you know that there are 22 million seconds in the average lifetime?”

“22 million is a lot, but it’s not infinity,” Hua Cheng counters.

“Ah, but a second isn’t instantaneous. Seconds take time. If you’ve ever tried to hold a plank for more than a minute, you know that well.” And he really does look like the type who could hold it. If not for two. “The unit of time I’d rather use is the moment.”

Hua Cheng glances at him. The car pulls onto the highway. “The moment?” he asks, gently spurring Xie Lian forward.

“Exactly,” Xie Lian says. “The moment isinstantaneous. Maybe there are hundreds of millions of moments in the span of a single second of time. Maybe more than that. We can conceptualize, then, that each second of a lifetime contains within it infinite moments, and each lifetime 22 million infinities.”

“But a moment is hardly an appreciable measure of time,” Hua Cheng says. “How many moments can we experience asmoments with our limited consciousness? The moments experienced are still finite to the mind of the human who tries to count them. Even if you count as fast as you can, you can’t count to 100 within the space of a single second, much less infinity.”

“You’re asking good questions,” Xie Lian comments.

Hua Cheng glows a little. “I told you, I’ve read the book a thousand times.”

“Well, if you did read the book, then you know that our concept of moments here is merely a framework.” They’re driving along the coast now, the bay blue and the sun starting its daily fizzle from yellow to red. “The infinities that truly populate the self are not of time, but of possibility.”

“Infinite choice in each moment.” Hua Cheng nods. “Explain it to me one more time, please, won’t you, gege?”

There’s a little plaintive moan in his voice - just a sliver of an entreaty - and it gives Xie Lian the goosebumps. Here is someone who’s truly appreciating his work, and he’s pleasant to look at and his voice is pleasant to the ear, and Xie Lian is reeling with how much good sensation is rolling into him with every second of this drive. It’s like the best of good dreams, and he doesn’t want to think of it ending.

“In any moment – and I do mean moment, with our earlier definition,” he says, “I could lean to the left. I could lean to the right. I could blink. I could lean to the left but just a little bit harder. I could think of the color red. I could think of the color blue. I could speak. I could stay silent. I could open the door and throw myself out of this car, if I wanted.”

“Please don’t,” Hua Cheng interjects, sounding a little unnerved.

“It’s just a possibility,” Xie Lian reminds him. “There are, essentially, an infinite number of things I could do with each moment of my life. Each of them takes some time, but the process of choosing is instantaneous. So you have infinite possibilities in every single moment of infinite moments.”

“Not infinite possibilities,“ counters Hua Cheng. "What you decide to do in one moment, as you said, takes time. The time it takes to perform that action necessarily negates the infinite nature of the next moment. You can’t make certain decisions while performing other actions.”

“Your possibilities are still infinite in each moment,” Xie Lian argues. “Just because some actions can’t be taken doesn’t mean there aren’t still infinite possibilities open to you. Think of numbers. An infinite number of numbers end in the digit 4. It’s still an infinite set, even though numbers that end in the digit 5 aren’t included.”

Hua Cheng frowns. “Perhaps my limited mind isn’t fully able to capture it,” he says after a time. “You’re very impressive, gege.”

Heat blooms in Xie Lian’s cheeks. “Thus,” he says, “we have the three ascensions. When the mind is able to grasp the concept of infinity within limited time, it ascends once. The second ascension comes when one accepts that infinite actions can be performed within that limited time. And the third ascension…”

“…is when the mind grasps that the possibilities are infinite for each of an infinite number of moments,” Hua Cheng fills in. “Infinities within infinities, all within the self.”

They’ve pulled off to a scenic outlook point on the bay. Hua Cheng eases the car into one of three parking spots and turns off the engine. He turns to Xie Lian. “Gege always explains it so well,” he says brightly. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Xie Lian can feel the flush creeping into his cheeks. He looks away. “You’re welcome.”

Another beep, and the car’s doors are opening again. Hua Cheng gets up, rounds the car to Xie Lian’s side, and holds out his hand.

They stand for a time side by side, watching the reddening sun dip its toes into the rippling water of the bay. There’s a strange peace to standing here, Xie Lian thinks, with this person he barely knows but is so ardent about his work. I’m safe.I’m appreciated. The sureness of that is unexpected but so, so welcome. Xie Lian thinks back, trying to remember the last time he felt that way. He can’t recall.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmurs. Cars thunder past on the road behind them.

“This is one of my favorite spots,” Hua Cheng says. “I’m always taken by the vastness of the ocean here. It seems so full.” He gestures down to where the water buffets the base of the cliffs below them. “Like it’s a moment from overflowing.”

Xie Lian ponders this. “I’ve never thought of the ocean as full or not,” he says. “The implication being that no more water can be added; that it’s complete as is, existing within its bounds.”

“It’s a philosophical puzzle, isn’t it?” says Hua Cheng lightly. “Of course, climate change is solving it as we speak. Rising sea levels and all. It seems the ocean has the potential to be boundless, even as we denote lines between sea and shore.”

“And the question then becomes, how accurately can we draw those lines? And is it human folly to even attempt to do so?”

“Of course,” Hua Cheng says, “none of these problems has practical application.”

Xie Lian laughs. “Most of philosophy has no practical application. That’s why it’s philosophy.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hua Cheng replies. “Your philosophy has had effects on my psychology, at the very least. To think of myself as infinite has changed the way I look at the world.”

“And how does it look?” Xie Lian inquires, tilting his head.

Hua Cheng gazes at him, then turns back to face the sea. “Boundless,” he says.

Xie Lian nods. The wind whips past them, whispering coldly against his cheeks and ears. He shudders.

Without a word, Hua Cheng removes his long coat and drapes it over Xie Lian’s shoulders. The coat is warm with his body heat, and all that heat seeps into Xie Lian in a rush. He draws in a breath. When Hua Cheng’s fingers touch his neck to adjust the collar, he wants to shiver again, this time not from the cold.

“Gege.” Hua Cheng’s honey-rich, low voice touches his ear like the strains of a cello. “Would you let me take you someplace nice?”

Xie Lian looks out at the darkening bay. He thinks of the view from his office window, the wall of an adjoining brick building. He could go back there, write and read until the early morning hours. Perhaps he would sleep on the cot he’s laid out in there. Staring at the mottled ceiling, contemplating eternity.

Or he could go with Hua Cheng, who is holding out his hand, looking hopeful.

Xie Lian takes it.

They drive for another 10 minutes along the coast, then take an exit into an area filled with green fields. Huge houses dot the landscape – this is the domain of the super-rich, Xie Lian thinks, because these fields aren’t used for farming. They’re simply green as far as the eye can see, well-manicured, sometimes interrupted by copses of grand old trees with outstretched branches. Some of the houses are surrounded by lush flower gardens. It’s not an area Xie Lian’s ever been too, nor does it seem like the kind of place he would want to live. But it’s fascinating just to see it for the first time.

Hua Cheng pulls down a narrow road, then turns onto another. Xie Lian squints as he makes out something odd on the horizon. Whatever it is, it’s silver, and a cluster of buildings sit low and flat around it. When wide concrete paths start to interrupt the endless greenery, he realizes what he’s looking at.

“I thought,” he says gingerly, “when you said someplace nice, you meant a fancy restaurant.”

“We can go to a restaurant,” Hua Cheng answers airily. He pulls the car into the yard, and they park. Holding Xie Lian’s fingers loosely, he leads him along the paths toward the airfield. The private jet sits on the runway like a horse at the gate, already humming. A movable staircase leads up to the main entrance. A number of people are working around it. One of them sees the pair approaching and offers Hua Cheng a bow.

“How soon can we be ready?” Hua Cheng asks him.

“Twenty minutes,” the man says. “We’ve been prepping since we got your text.”

Xie Lian wonders when Hua Cheng had managed to text them. “This is your plane?” A silly question; Hua Cheng nods easily, as though everyone has a private airfield with a jet ready to go at any moment. “Where are you taking me?”

Hua Cheng meets his gaze with a smile. “Where would you like to go? Tokyo? Hong Kong? Thailand is stunning this time of year.”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian starts, his heart pounding. Hua Cheng smiles that much more widely at the sound of the name. “Isn’t this a little…”

“Much?” Hua Cheng finishes for him. “Not at all. Not for gege.” He lays a hand on the small of Xie Lian’s back – Xie Lian gasps at the touch – and ushers him forward until they are both standing at the bottom of that staircase, the airplane’s door a wide unblinking eye at the top. Hua Cheng bows and makes a gesture with his hand toward the staircase – after you.

Xie Lian’s brain rockets into high gear. He has brought nothing with him but his briefcase, and even that is still in the car. No one knows where he is or where he’s going. He’s traveled a little in life – nothing too far from home – but this would be a trip like no other, totally unplanned and utterly irresponsible. Every ounce of common sense in his brain is urging him to shake his head politely and back away.

But this man. This fascinating man, who is offering him the world. For every voice inside Xie Lian that says no, there’s a current of pulsing blood in his veins whispering yes, yes.

“I’m not sure,” he begins, tentatively.

“Gege,” Hua Cheng murmurs, “You speak of self as containing an infinity of possibilities for every moment of life. But the paradox of infinity is that some infinities are larger than others. At this moment, you have more possibilities than ever before. Given those infinite possibilities, at this moment, what will you choose?”

He’s right. The possibilities facing him right now are truly endless. And hidden in Hua Cheng’s words, there is a challenge – do you dare? And Xie Lian finds, to his surprise, that he does. He not only dares, he wants. To see this through, to learn more about this man, to take a crazy chance. His heart is pounding with the force of his desire. And once, just once in his studious, conservative life, he listens to it.

He smiles at Hua Cheng, lifts one hand to the railing of the staircase, and begins to ascend.

that’s a yes

They’ve reunited at last. They’ve talked for hours, they’ve dined together, they’ve bathed together, and they’ve made love - oh, how they’ve made love. Hua Cheng is as full and sated as he ever has been. They cuddle close on the big bed, Xie Lian tracing idle patterns on the swell of Hua Cheng’s chest, and Hua Cheng wants for nothing.

So when Xie Lian asks him in a quiet voice, “What do you want?” he’s startled.

“What do I want?” he echoes back, not knowing if there’s context to this phrase that he isn’t picking up on.

“Yes,” Xie Lian says, “you’ve done so much for me, but you never ask for a thing for yourself. Isn’t there something you want?”

The answer comes readily, and it’s the truth. “I have gege here with me. What else could I possibly need?”

Xie Lian bats him playfully on the shoulder. “I didn’t say need, I said want. There must be something. A place you want to go, some treasure you want to acquire. I want to give you something.”

Hua Cheng’s heart constricts painfully in his chest. Does Xie Lian not know of the gifts he gives him day after day? Just looking at him like he does, just his smiles and laughter, and his presence. The fact that Xie Lian wants to be with him is the brightest treasure of all.

He lifts a hand and tucks a strand of flowing hair behind Xie Lian’s ear. “Where in the world can I not go?” he says. “What treasure is not mine, the moment I will it to be? You can give me no gift worth more than yourself.”

“Oh,” Xie Lian says, and his face falls. “Of course.”

This won’t do. Hua Cheng can’t stand Xie Lian looking like that. Surely he can think of something he can ask for. He racks his brain for some item, some experience that he would like to have under his belt. How can he bring that smile back?

And then it occurs to him, like a whisper in his ear. Quiet but steady, the wish rises in his chest, a lantern buoyed aloft by a flame. Yes, there is something he wishes. Something that is petty and selfish, but perhaps Xie Lian wishes for it to be so.

He sits up, forcing Xie Lian to do the same, and takes both his hands. “I want you to come to the Ghost City with me,” he says. Admitting it feels foreign and strange and exciting. “I want to take you through the streets for all to see. I want you to come stay at Paradise Manor with me – not forever, but for a while. I will see to your every wish. I want every last disgusting creature down there that calls itself my servant to know–”

“–that I’m yours,” Xie Lian finishes. His eyes are clear and bright.

“No,” Hua Cheng says. “That I’m yours.”

Xie Lian is silent.

Hua Cheng worries. “Would you?” he asks, as tentatively as a child.

In response, Xie Lian leans in and kisses him.

The kiss is long, slow, sweet. Xie Lian’s lips are soft. Hua Cheng has tasted them so many times tonight, but this kiss is different. There’s a promise in this kiss.

Xie Lian hums softly against his lips as they part. Hua Cheng blinks.

“That’s a yes,” Xie Lian clarifies.

“Yes, you’ll come with me?” Hua Cheng finds he’s terrified to find out for sure.

But Xie Lian’s answer is another kiss. This time the hunger rises in Hua Cheng’s gut, and he pulls him close and collapses to the bed, Xie Lian on top of him. Xie Lian licks at the seam of his lips, boldly, and in shock and delight Hua Cheng opens to him. They kiss for long minutes, letting the heat flow between their bodies.

And afterwards, Xie Lian says, “That’s a yes too.”

TGCF | Rated T | 25K | one-shot

art by @mochiweiying

Written for the @mxtxminibang #mxtxminibang

The first time Xie Lian sees the murals, he’s downtown. –>>

Xie Lian isn’t sure just how much Hua Cheng actually sleeps, but he does know that he wakes each morning tangled up in Hua Cheng’s arms, the coolness of his body like water against his skin. It’s waking up afloat on a lake, sometimes with his head tucked against Hua Cheng’s chest, sometimes Hua Cheng holding him from behind. Every day, waking up in Hua Cheng’s arms is like a blessing, and he always breathes in and sighs a ittle in contentment.

This morning he’s woken up with Hua Cheng’s head tucked into his shoulder, lips brushing his neck. Xie Lian sighs, as he always does, but he also shivers from the almost-contact. Hua Cheng’s mouth that close to his neck is making him warm all over, already. It *seems* that Hua Cheng is still asleep, and Xie Lian doesn’t want to disturb him, but they’re too tangled up for him to extricate himself. So instead, he brushes his lips over the crown of Hua Cheng’s head, slides his arm tighter around his waist, and settles in.

For a moment, there is peace.

Then, Hua Cheng’s lips purse against Xie Lian’s skin.

Xie Lian takes in a breath and forgets to let it out again.

Another kiss, and then another. Blossoms of kisses, pressed to his shoulder and neck, and at once Xie Lian is gasping, holding tight to that cool skin as heat plummets downward. “S–San Lang, you were awake?” he asks, or tries to ask – it comes out in barely a whisper, and Hua Cheng does nothing to acknowledge it. He just keeps kissing, and laves Xie Lian’s neck with his tongue ardently. Xie Lian clings to him, trying to control his breathing.

He lifts a hand to Hua Cheng’s face, cups his jaw. Hua Cheng turns his head and presses kisses into his palm. “Gege,” he murmurs, biting at Xie Lian’s fingers, “you feel good.”

“So do you– ah!” Because all at once Hua Cheng’s hands are on his hips, sliding robes away. It’s indecent – it’s too early, or he’s too sleepy, there must be *some* good reason they shouldn’t be doing this – but that just makes Xie Lian arch up with want. Hua Cheng has taught him how to do many things that shouldn’t be done, and all of them have been wonderful.

Hua Cheng kisses up the line of Xie Lian’s throat to his jaw, his chin, his lips. He lingers there, darting soft, too-short kisses onto Xie Lian’s mouth, drawing small noises of need out of him until, fed up, Xie Lian tangles a hand into his hair and holds him there. A groan escapes Hua Cheng, the first such noise he’s made, and a thrill of triumph makes Xie Lian smile into the kiss.

Those cool hands at his hips move, stroking his thighs, and without thinking Xie Lian opens them, an unspoken invitation. But Hua Cheng doesn’t move to press himself in between them; instead, he slides one hand upward to tease clever fingers at the base of Xie Lian’s cock. His hands flush warm when he needs them to, and they’re just warm enough now to make Xie Lian moan when he takes him in hand and strokes. It’s almost too much – almost, but not quite – and Xie Lian can’t help a desperate hitch of his hips upward, pushing himself through the tunnel of Hua Cheng’s fingers impatiently.

Xie Lian reaches for Hua Cheng, trying to reciprocate, but Hua Cheng evades his touch. “This is for you,” he says, a guttural growl pressed against Xie Lian’s lips. Xie Lian knows better than to fight him on this. He lets his head loll against the pillow and grabs Hua Cheng’s arm instead, feeling the tense and release of his muscles as he strokes. The sensation shatters his control, and he moans openly, hips pistoning up again and again.

It doesn’t take long. Hua Cheng has assaulted him with sensation from the moment he woke, and it’s all Xie Lian knows right now. He comes with a sob, clinging to Hua Cheng with all his strength, and the aftershocks leave him shuddering and limp. Hua Cheng kisses his mouth, his chin and his neck, the jut of one collarbone. Xie Lian lies there, boneless and mindless, breathing hard.

In the wake of the sensation, love and gratitude floods through him. His San Lang, always so devoted. To have his touch, his kiss, is a blessing beyond blessings. Xie Lian nuzzles into Hua Cheng’s shoulder, practically purring. “Love,” he murmurs, “San Lang, thank you.”

“Good morning,” is Hua Cheng’s reply.

for@hellokyochan. my first public Hualian fic endeavor. She requested wall!sex.

They don’t even make it to the bed this time.

It started slow. They’ve dined together, they’ve bathed each other, they’ve spent so long in quiet, gentle conversation, letting the heat between them build gradually. As they walk hand in hand toward the bedroom, the desire hangs low in the air around them, like a thundercloud, so, so soon ready to break.

Hua Cheng glances down at him, and Xie Lian gives a simple smile. Hua Cheng smiles too, wolfishly, the crooked corners of his mouth turning up, and that’s it, the dam breaks. Xie Lian pulls him close, backs himself against the wall.

“Gege,” the soft word mouthed against his lips, and the heat of Hua Cheng’s breath mingling with his is everything, everything.

San Lang, come on, please,“ desperate snatches of words, now muffled against Hua Cheng’s shoulder, now pressed into his mouth.

He isn’t a small man, but he’s slight in Hua Cheng’s arms, and Hua Cheng can hold him against the wall with a single arm. Xie Lian’s half scared of breaking apart, half wanting to shatter entirely. His breaths come in short pants, ragged against Hua Cheng’s ear.

Fingers beneath him now, parting him, doing whatever magic they do that leaves Xie Lian gaping and wet and wanting. His own fingers, clutching at Hua Cheng’s shoulders, the back of his neck.

His legs wrap around Hua Cheng’s waist, his whole body lifted up and Hua Cheng sinking inside him in a single moment. Hua Cheng hisses at the completion. Xie Lian gasps in air, lets it out in a sigh that becomes a moan. Yes.Yes,this moment.

Yes,Hua Cheng’s body hot against his, moving urgently. Yes,the graze of his teeth on Xie Lian’s lower lip. Yes, the motion inside him, the feeling of weightlessness as he’s lifted, slammed against the wall, lifted again.

Theyes tumbles from Xie Lian’s mouth, again and again, the pitch of his voice rising. His cock slides obscenely against Hua Cheng’s stomach, and he angles his body forward for more. Hua Cheng huffs a laugh into his neck, sucks and licks there until Xie Lian has goosebumps.

The air around them all electric heat. Hua Cheng’s hands on his ass, his whole weight pinning Xie Lian to the wall. All of it, all of it enveloping, overwhelming, sending his senses into overdrive.

Xie Lian comes first – his head tips back, sweat trickling down his neck and shoulders, and he can’t even breathe as the heat swells through him and bursts.

Then, amidst his shivers and his desperate breaths and the anxious pull of his fingers against Hua Cheng’s skin, Hua Cheng follows, Xie Lian still shuddering with his own release as Hua Cheng growls against his skin and his hands seize up beneath him, surely leaving marks. They pant against each other’s mouth, crest up against each other as the feelings recede, and fall still.

It’s quiet in the small cottage now, the air still muggy around them like the aftermath of a rainstorm. Hua Cheng lets him down slowly, and Xie Lian trembles as he leans against the wall, his legs turned to rubber. He lifts his head, then his fingers, to Hua Cheng’s face. He traces the line of that wolfish grin. Hua Cheng presses ardent kisses against his fingers.

They laugh afterward, giddy with what they’ve been able to share tonight, the mischief they’ve managed. It always feels like this – despite the nature of what they’ve done, it’s a little like getting away with some childhood naughtiness. Xie Lian has learned to treasure that feeling.

They fall side by side to the bed, hold hands, let their breathing return to normal. Happiness rings in Xie Lian’s heart like a chime. He can have this, they can have this, whenever they want and forever. Despite his reputation, he feels like the luckiest man in the world.

hoarder-of-danmei:

Xie Lian tucks the tiny fox cub’s head under his chin. “Shh,” he soothes it. “I’ve got you.”

The fox cub’s claws sink deep into Xie Lian’s skin, but he doesn’t react, just keeps talking to it in a soft voice. Soon, it relaxes a little.

And then Xie Lian is holding a tiny human boy with bandages wrapped around his head.

“Hello,” Xie Lian greets him, giving him a gentle smile. “How are you feeling?”

The boy stares up at him with one big eye.