Chapter Text
Fireworks blossom in the sky in a dazzling array of colors, a dragon emerging from a pinprick in the sky, swimming around the other fireworks in a display of agility, around lotuses and peonies.
The activity on the ground is no less spectacular. In order to accommodate the literally thousands of people that compose Luo Binghe’s household, a temporary city had been established for the New Years, a riotous place crammed full of food stalls and trinket vendors.
If Shen Yuan didn’t know better, he’d have thought that city was real, the structures permanent. That would have only been before he took a closer look at the populace.
Luo Binghe’s genes run incredibly strong— all his children are basically carbon copies of himself, with only minor variations. Su Xiyan, even from the grave, has found a way to fuck with Shen Yuan’s head by having genes so strong her clone has made clones. It’s dizzying. Shen Yuan doesn’t have a prayer of telling them apart, and has taken to calling every child “Little Luo” and not giving a fuck who notices.
Next to him, Luo Binghe talks excitedly with a little girl who, if you squint and tilt your head, might conceivably look a little like the woman purported to be her mother.
“You must be A-Yuan,” the woman greets warmly. She looks young, not only in the ageless way that cultivators do, but in a childish way. Her hair is pinned back in twin buns, like her daughters, and she wears a style of clothes Shen Yuan would call girlish, but he is not, and admittedly never has been, that much of an expert on women's fashion. I fucked your husband, Shen Yuan thinks, and smiles back.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Shen Yuan says politely. He has no earthly clue who this woman might be. Luo Binghe rarely refers to singular wives, instead referring to them as a mass, and usually a troublesome one at that.
“I’m Ning Yingying,” the woman says, “I’ve heard so much about you!” I fucked your husband , Shen Yuan thinks again.
“Only good things, I hope,” Shen Yuan replies, smiling.
Ning Yingying laughs, a high pitched girlish giggle that grates on Shen Yuan’s ears. “But of course! You’re A-Luo’s closest friend!”
Ooh, didn’t fully hide the venom in that one, did you?
Luo Binghe has Ning Yingying’s daughter on his hip, and she seems in the absolute rictus of joy to be there, beaming proudly out at the world. A few of the children look on, envy clear in their eyes.
Ah, ha. He got himself into a fucking mess, didn’t he? Shen Yuan should have never trusted Luo Binghe’s casual invitation. Luo Binghe doesn’t do casual invitations. It’s the most important time of the year, his ass. It just hurts my heart to think of you alone, HIS ASS. This is an exercise in humiliation, he just knows it.
Above them, the firework dragon is engaged in glorious battle with another dragon, flitting through the night air in a fantastic tangle.
“Father,” the little girl says, mini-Bing #4949, the formal word juxtaposed in her little face. “Can you buy me that?” She points in the direction of one of the stalls. Nothing here costs money. It would be tacky of the emperor to put on this little festival for his household and make them pay for the privilege.
Luo Binghe smiles and ambles over in the direction of the stall. Shen Yuan makes sure to keep Luo Binghe in his sight, but doesn’t follow, and can’t hear the apparently enthusiastic conversation at the toy stall.
“Your daughter looks just like you,” Shen Yuan lies.
Ning Yingying snorts. “No, she doesn’t. All my kids looked almost exactly like A-Luo. My oldest, he just turned twenty-six, looks exactly like A-Luo did at that age.” Ning Yingying shakes her head. “I suppose I shouldn’t complain too much. A-Luo is amazingly handsome, wouldn’t you say?”
What the fuck is Shen Yuan supposed to say to that? “I suppose so.”
“Only suppose so? Don’t let A-Luo hear you said that.”
“Didn’t think his ego needed anymore inflating,” Shen Yuan says, dry. “Maybe it could use a little ribbing.”
Ning Yingying frowns. “That’s a mean thing to say.”
Shen Yuan blinks. “What?”
“That’s a mean thing to say about a friend,” Ning Yingying tells him, incredibly and gravely serious. How old is this woman, exactly? Twelve??
“What are you, twelve?” says another voice. The woman who saunters up is dressed, but only in the sense that she ‘has something on her body.’ It’s fucking winter, isn’t she cold? One of the displays is full of fucking ice lanterns and she isn’t even wearing shoes!
“You can be kind at any age,” Ning Yingying remarks, and her voice is bright but also strained. “Hauling, I didn’t think you were going to come.”
“I wasn’t,” Hualing says, tossing a breadth of dark hair over a shoulder. She comes very close to exposing a whole breast with the movement, but by some miracle, it stays put. “But then I heard my darling husband had invited someone to the dinner, and I simply had to see.”
“I’m glad that A-Luo is finally making friends,” Ning Ying says, resolute. “I’m glad he’s opening up.”
“I never could figure out if you’re really that stupid and naive,” Hualing remarks. “You don’t seem bright enough to have any guile, though.” Shen Yuan is going to go out on a limb and guess that it’s Sha Hualing. She peers at him assessingly. She looks moments away from reaching out to fondle him with her hands. “At least you’re hot,” she says. “There’s nothing worse than finding out your husband wouldill sleep with an ugly bitch.” She casts unsubtle eyes at Ning Yingying.
Shen Yuan has two wolves inside him: one that knows he should have stayed home and the other that is mildly entertained. Does he want to be in the middle? No. But he wouldn’t mind watching away from the strike zone. Three youngish kids dash by, wielding firecrackers, not caring for their incredibly fine clothes at all. The temporary city will last a full sixteen days, Luo Binghe told him. From New Year’s eve all the way to the last day of the lantern festival.
“I’ve been told the wives all understand that the New Year is to be a truce,” he had smiled. “And if it’s not, then they’ve been smart enough to keep it from my attention, which is much the same thing. You don’t have to stay the full sixteen days, of course. But you are welcome to if you wish.”
If Ning Yingying getting verbally obliterated counts as being under a truce, Shen Yuan isn’t sure he wants to see the war.
Luo Binghe returns, smiling, his daughter on his hip. “A-Ling,” he greets, “I’m glad to see you recovered.”
Sha Hualing goes through the most disgusting transformation Shen Yuan has ever witnessed. Her bitchy scowl and mean glint melt away into something Shen Yuan supposes is meant to be simpering and seductive. Is this bitch wearing napkins in January to be seductive ? Holy fucking shit .
Shen Yuan doesn’t know whether to admire her dedication or lament her stupidity. Has there ever been dick good enough for frostbite? No. The answer is no. If your answer is not ‘no,’ go back and rethink that until your answer is less moronic.
“I could hardly miss the most important meal of my husband’s culture,” Sha Hualing simpers, “Hualing has been working so hard to understand human ways.” She sends a sly look at Shen Yuan, her meaning clear: aren’t these human customs fucking stupid?
Shen Yuan, generally, agrees. But the festival has triggered something nostalgic in him, and he doesn’t want to pretend to be any ally to Sha Hualing, so he makes no move.
“I appreciate your continued efforts,” Luo Binghe says, almost dry but largely amused, “to accommodate my lowly human culture.”
Luo Binghe locks eyes with Ning Yingying the same way Sha Hualing tried to do with Shen Yuan. But Ning Yingying instead gives him a commiserating smile.
I once celebrated, Shen Yuan wants to say, but he doesn’t, and furthermore, he doesn’t remember if it’s actually true. It was eons and eons ago that he might have, and the details have grown so fuzzy that they might as well be those new ink splatter paintings that Shen Yuan considered novel when there were a few of them, but ugly as fuck now that they seem to be dominating.
Luo Binghe puts his daughter down, to her obvious dismay, putting a hand on Shen Yuan’s arm. “You haven’t met Liu Mingyan,” Luo Binghe says. “I’ll introduce you, I think you’ll get along.”
“Mingyan is still recovering,” Ning Yingying chimes in. “Her loss hit her hard.”
Ning Yingying is not looking at Sha Hualing. She is not looking at Sha Hualing so pointedly, she might as well have been staring right at her. Sha Hualing is blinking with perfect innocence. Shen Yuan doesn’t need it spelled out for him. Demons don’t have many children. Shen Yuan isn’t entirely sure why, but it’s the truth of it. Maybe, it’s the lingering will of the gods, as someone had once told him with such dryness Shen Yuan had thought the moisture was on its way to being sucked out of his body. It’s the only thing that seemed to have stopped the demons from invading, being outnumbered.
In a harem? A demon wife would be at a severe disadvantage to human wives. Luo Binghe is smart enough he shouldn’t need it spelled out either, but he doesn’t react one way or the other.
“She’s here,” Luo Binghe says, confident. “She assured me she would be.” He tugs on Shen Yuan’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Shen Yuan lets himself be guided around the festival. Luo Binghe, of course, draws attention no matter where he goes, and this is no different.
Liu Mingyan turns out to be a human woman with a veil covering half her face. Over the top, two bright phoenix eyes peer out.
She nods at them as they approach. "This is your friend?" She asks, her voice lacking both the bright naïveté of Ning Yingying and the hard suggestiveness of Sha Hualing. Shen Yuan likes her immediately.
"The one that likes to read," Luo Binghe confirms. This is probably the first time Shen Yuan's ever heard him say such a thing without any note of derision.
She peers at him curiously. "I always like to meet fellow readers."
Luo Binghe grins widely. "Shen Yuan greatly enjoyed Winter’s Icy Heat ."
He should have known that mocking would come.
"There's nothing wrong with liking romance novels," Shen Yuan says stiffly.
"Of course not," Liu Mingyan agrees. "Have you read The Seventh Prince ?”
Is this a trap? "I saw the play," Shen Yuan says cautiously. It had been one of the ones that Tianlang-jun dragged him to, insistent that he must see. It was all right, he supposes. If you're into melodrama and annoying people, and have no taste.
"I have never known you to be this reticent with your opinions," Luo Binghe says. "Does it not inspire any level of conversational politeness?"
"It's alright if he is shy," Liu Mingyan says. "You did drag the poor man to see your family without any armor."
"I'm here to protect him," Luo Binghe asserts, patting the small of Shen Yuan’s back with easy confidence.
"Even you can't be fast enough to protect from the psychological wounds," Liu Mingyan points out and Luo Binghe chuckles.
"But maybe you are? I have some business to attend to," Luo Binghe says. "I'll see you both at dinner."
Luo Binghe walks away, disappearing into the crowd. Wait! This wasn't part of the deal!!! You're going to abandon him?! No!!
He looks at Liu Mingyan warily. She doesn't regard him with any sort of wariness, and instead there’s an open curiosity.
"So how did you two meet?" she asks.
"That jackass slaughtered my village," Shen Yuan says stiffly.
"Oh, I see," Liu Mingyan says mildly. "But he can be charming."
Shen Yuan rolls his eyes. "Can he? I've yet to see it."
"But you seem to spend so much time together," Liu Mingyan says. Her tone is mild but Shen Yuan is immediately suspicious of the way her eyes glimmer. "There has to be something you like about him."
"Is there?" Shen Yuan says. "Have you read The Romance of the Two Swallows ?"
"I have. Why would you come to the most important holiday meal of the man you didn't like?"
Shen Yuan no longer likes Liu Mingyan. "I like free food."
"Binghe does make good food," Liu Mingyan remarks, an edge of laughter in her voice.
"He cooks?"
That earns him a little tinkling laugh, with Liu Mingyan lifting a hand to cover her mouth even though Shen Yuan can't see it through the veil.
"He's gone to cook dinner, didn't you know?" Liu Mingyan has a knowing gleam in her eye.
"No," Shen Yuan says, "so about The Romance of the Two Swallows ."
He tries his absolute best to be polite and have a nice conversation about a mutually loved topic. Luo Binghe absolutely refuses to read, or at least, refuses to read for fun, and Shen Yuan hasn't had the pleasure of discussing books with anyone since Tianlang-jun…Although describing any sort of conversation with that man as a pleasure is a stretch.
But Liu Mingyan doesn't want to discuss books. Liu Mingyan wants to discuss Luo Binghe. More specifically, she wants to discuss how Shen Yuan feels about Luo Binghe.
Shen Yuan might understand if she in any way seemed jealous. But she doesn't seem jealous, she seems curious, enthralled even, and Shen Yuan has the suspicious feeling that if she could, she would have a little notebook and pen out and be jotting down every word he is saying.
He is pretty much relieved by the time he is shepherded into a grand banquet hall. He is directed to sit at a large round table at the head of the hall, one of hundreds that is already filled with women and children being served drinks before dinner begins.
The table is absolutely laden with food, almost sagging under the weight of it. There’s fish soaked in sauces and laden with colorful vegetables, steamed whole chicken, fat dumplings steaming from their seat rows on the long platters, noodles soaked in mouth-watering broth, and crispy spring rolls in delicate beds of lettuce. The bowls of fresh fruit that should be near impossible to procure during this time of year with heaping trays of vegetables stir fried, boiled, and sauteed. It’s all spread out in a dizzying aromatic display, so bountiful the plates are almost stacked on top of each other.
Others sit at the table — Shen Yuan spots Ning Yingying and her daughter, Sha Hualing and of course, Liu Mingyan. Several he doesn't recognize politely introduce themselves. Shen Yuan smiles and introduces himself courteously, feeling their names slip out one ear. He'll likely never see them again.
Luo Binghe bustles through the door, holding another platter of sizzling vegetables in his hand. Somehow, he manages to put it on the table in a minor display of bending reality to make it fit.
He settles into the seat next to Shen Yuan and smiles at the rest of the table.
“A-Luo, it looks fantastic!” Ning Yingying chirps, already digging in. Everyone else seems to, so Shen Yuan also picks up his own chopsticks and starts to eat.
Holy shit. Shen Yuan takes another bite, just to see if he can replicate the feeling. Just make sure it's not another fluke. Holy shit. It's probably the most delicious thing he's ever eaten. He's almost worried to take another bite, knowing already that no other food will compare. He's going to starve for the rest of his life, dreaming about this one meal, he can already feel it in his bones.
"You made this?" Shen Yuan breathes. He can't help being breathless, he's too busy shoveling food into his mouth.
"I thought food was part of your foolproof seduction plan," Sha Hualing cackles from her end of the table.
"A-Luo likes to cook," Ning Yingying offers. Shen Yuan doesn’t know if it is supposed to be a condemnation, helpful factoid, or defense.
"What makes you think I did the seducing?" Luo Binghe smirks.
Sha Hualing smirks back. "It's simply in your nature, darling. To collect pretty things."
Shen Yuan is far too busy enjoying the best meal of his life to care about being a pretty thing or being in a collection.
The meal is a far cry from the stilted, awful thing that Shen Yuan had to endure in his own palace. Next to him, Luo Binghe is animated, eyes glimmering, laughing and chatting with ease. And everyone follows his lead, his charisma blossoming through the room. Wine flows freely, the laughter even more freely, and the dinner lasts far into the night.
It's long past midnight when everyone leaves the hall to light firecrackers out in the streets. With so many people, the noise is near constant, the crack-whip pitter of a new line being lit as soon as another peters out. It truly is much more like a village celebration than a family gathering.
"My hermit looks like he might be wilting under the force of so many people," Luo Binghe says. He begins to walk, meandering through the false city streets.
"I'm not a hermit," Shen Yuan says, following him. "I go to all sorts of places now."
"But you still live in an isolated cave," Luo Binghe notes. "Just like a hermit."
"It suits me."
"No, it really doesn't." Luo Binghe walks steadily through the streets, out to the edges of the city he created himself so his family could celebrate. A celebration for over six hundred people, over sixteen days. It is not a small feat. Though, he really did create the problem for himself with six hundred wives.
"What does that mean?" Shen Yuan says, already sensing there's an insult in there. There's always an insult.
"You're lonely," Luo Binghe says. "You miss people."
"And that's why you're escorting me away from the people? Because I love and miss them so much?”
At the edge of the city, a small lake laps. There is no moon to illuminate it, being the day it is, and it is only Shen Yuan's demonic vision that keeps the scene from being pitch black dark.
"Maybe I'm using you as an excuse," Luo Binghe says quietly.
Shen Yuan wants to laugh, but this time his common sense does sweep in and save him, and he doesn't. Luo Binghe? Not a fan of people?
At first, the idea seems ludicrous. Luo Binghe is charismatic beyond belief, almost beyond reason. He's charming, flirtatious, and an amazing conversationalist. And if that isn't enough, he's one of the most beautiful people Shen Yuan has ever seen, including his brief stint in the heavens. How could Luo Binghe not like people, when people like him so much?
But that's not how anything works, is it. Does their admiration sit on top of his skin, like grease? Uncomfortable, always aware. Does he enjoy their company back? Does he enjoy the banter, the flirtation? When he laughs, is it genuine, or is that another part of a role he plays?
Now that he’s looking for it, he can see the tightness around Luo Binghe’s eyes, uncharacteristic ofn him. His shoulders seem tense,
"An excuse to do what?" Shen Yuan says. He's feeling bold. He reaches a hand out, entangling his fingers with Luo Binghe's. "I know you're just hoping that I'll teach you what I know about the heavens."
Luo Binghe doesn't remove his hand. "Oh?"
Shen Yuan points with his other hand, unsure if Luo Binghe can see it. It doesn't matter. "That cluster of stars right there? Back in my day, we called that spilled rice."
"Incredible.”
"And that one over there?" Shen Yuan points again. “Dropped pearls."
"What's the mythos behind it? I'm always curious to hear the legends of ancient cultures."
"It's a several hours long tale of intrigue, lies, deception, and love," Shen Yuan tells him. "The most riveting story you'll ever hear."
"I have time."
So Shen Yuan tells him a story. He tells until the sun is in the sky, with Luo Binghe’s head pillowed against his chest.
"To be honest," Luo Binghe says, when Shen Yuan's voice is close to hoarse, "I expected you to tell a dick joke.”
Shen Yuan slaps him and Luo Binghe laughs, the sound bright and clear in the early morning light.
Shen Yuan lines up drops of his blood against the chosen starting line, and then sends them racing across the floor.
The one on the left scoots across the stone in an energetic little ball, rolling fast enough that Shen Yuan might have mistaken it for a marble. The one in the middle ponderously slithers, like a sad snake, leaving trails of itself as it goes. The one on the far right stubbornly resists against moving at all.
Shen Yuan clicks his tongue. It should have gone the farthest, out of all of them. Maybe he mixed it with the wrong substance? He picks up the small, drawstring bag. It’s supposed to be Deadman’s Last, a potent drug that turned out to be a little too potent. Originally created to be hawked on the street, it quickly became the favorite of soldiers about to go into battle. Around the same time, stories started surfacing about ghouls and zombies. About those who would spring up, supposed to be dead, and keep fighting until they didn't have the limbs to do so anymore.
It was such a horrific story, Shen Yuan had to see it for himself. It turned out to be absolutely true, in a rare show.
But the drug has fallen out of favor. It's not that any of the ingredients are particularly hard to source; most of them are actually fairly common. It's not that it's particularly hard to make either, and those with a fairly basic knowledge of alchemy can manage.
No. The problem with dead man's last is the emphasis on last. Sure, it can give you amazing strength, dull the pain, help you carry on when you thought you couldn't possibly take one more step forward. But the body was not meant to do such things, and in exchange, the drug burns through it. The rumor about corpses springing up wasn't quite right — it's that the drug made them look like corpses as they walked.
The high wasn't really worth it for your average street user, for such disgusting consequences. And it turns out it wasn't that favorable with the soldiers either.
You can't buy deadman's last, of course. Shen Yuan supposes he could make some, but what he had in the storeroom should be perfectly serviceable.
He's debating the wisdom of sticking in a finger, and seeing what happens when the last blood drop finally begins to move.
Shen Yuan puts the bag down, to peer closer at it. The blood drop on the far left he just put in a little bit of a common energy supplement, hardly dangerous at all. The one in the middle, a potion typically used to deworm fantastical beasts, when such menageries were common. He's not surprised that it seemed to barely slow down his own blood worms, though he is surprised it seems to have an effect at all.
The blood drop with the deadman's last bubbles and froths like it's boiling. And then, anti-climatically, it does nothing at all, becoming totally inert.
Well, what did he expect? The Heavenly Demon's blood gives protection from poisons, and what are street drugs if not poison?
He sits back, considering. Anything he can try, has already been done, and probably been done to greater effect.
But what's the harm in a mere intellectual exercise?
So suppose that he is the product of gu worms. It seems correct, from what he can remember. You put one-hundred chong in a jar, and whatever is in his body was the strongest. It would help if he knew what originally went into the jar, but he can't know that, so it's irrelevant to dwell.
What would make a gu worm stronger? Maybe putting it back in the jar?
Shen Yuan looks at his hand, considering the blue veins running through his wrist. Well, what's the worst that could happen?
He spends a day or two collecting his creatures. Heavenly Demon blood is the most powerful worm he knows, so he tries to collect the most powerful worms he can think of. He aims for a solid 100, but a few crawl away and he calls it good enough.
He puts all his creatures in a jar, and tops it off with a good spray of blood, sealing it tight.
The jar rocks for a moment or two, and then goes mostly still, changing to more of a vibration.
Shen Yuan doesn't actually know how long he's supposed to let them fight it out for. He knows the theory, but he's never actually had to make a gu worm himself — he already has some.
With a shrug, he decides that the victor will still be victorious if he lets it sit in a pot for a few hours, and goes to read a book. It's one Luo Binghe bought him, so garishly trashy that Shen Yuan is almost ashamed to hold it in his hands. Doubtless, that was the idea, and Shen Yuan is determined to finish it. He is not sure what sort of point that will prove, but it will certainly prove one, and that's enough.
He flips through the book, mostly focused on what point Luo Binghe is trying to prove, figuring out which one is best. Do all books have literary worth? No. Are there books that are just objectively bad? Yes.
About halfway through the book, he considers that the point might be that he'll just simply read any garbage, and he throws the book away in distaste. He'll do it. He'll tell Luo Binghe that he's finally managed to find garbage that even Shen Yuan won't read.
Shen Yuan goes back to check on his worm experimentation. The jar is completely still, and Shen Yuan assumes that means that whatever epic battle had been contained inside has reached its final conclusion.
He breaks the seal on the jar, and peers inside. Though he had absolutely put solid worms and bugs and scorpions inside, the sludge inside the jar is decidedly liquid. He calls on his blood worms, and the sludge shivers. So at least he knows who one.
Shen Yuan considers his experimental sludge. It should, theoretically, just be a more powerful blood parasite, right? He calls on it again, and this time it moves more. Still under his command. Should be fine.
Before he thinks better of it, he throws his head back and pours some of the sludge down his throat. It's not the worst thing he's ever eaten, but it is a close second, bitter and pungent and slimy on the way down.
He can feel his own blood worms resettling into his bloodstream, reintegrating. It's not exactly a pleasant feeling, more or less instead like he's vibrating from the inside out. He flexes his fingers, trying to shake the feeling off. Well, such is the price of power.
He's trying to think of what superpowered blood worms would do — he's hoping that it will give him mind control powers, like the kudzu plant. Nasty thing it is, implanting in its host and piloting the body. Nobody knows if the soul is still in there— the kudzu will never say.
Maybe with a little foresight, Shen Yuan would've grabbed a small, fluffy creature to experiment on, but hindsight being perfect and all that. There's no reason he can't grab one now. Grumbling, Shen Yuan heads for his own front door. There are times that he wishes that he always had a portal sword strapped to his waist. Walking… walking… walking. So much easier just open a rent in space time and just appear where you're going. Maybe along with your sanity, Xin Mo takes any conception of manners, but it would be worth it, Shen Yuan thinks, already tired by his walk to the front door.
No, that's not right. He frowns. He shouldn't be tired!
The world pitches sharply to the left, tapestries swimming in his view. His right arm aches, spreading down to his hip, and on to his thigh. Oh no, that's not right. He's fallen on his side. He tries to push himself up, but his limbs are several times too slow, and seem to jerk more than respond.
And then his veins catch on fire, and he screams.
Long repressed memories begin to bubble to the surface, a face he hasn't seen in hundreds of years in front of his eyes.
"It won't hurt," a voice he hasn't heard in 100 years, belonging to someone long, long dead assures him. "It's more than you deserve, at any rate. I think you should count yourself lucky."
Hands shove down on his shoulders, keeping him pinned. He had never understood that, since he had already been strapped to the table. Where was he going to go? What were his shoulders going to do that his wrists, and ankles, and torso, and neck being strapped down wouldn't stop?
He blinks his bleary eyes open, looking up at his captor. He had never liked Po Chi, but Po Chi had always liked him. Had liked him too much, had liked him so much it had made Shen Yuan uncomfortable.
Po Chi has become several times more beautiful than Shen Yuan remembers. In his memories, he's an ugly, thin faced man with cruel, hard eyes and an air of poorly restrained benevolence that he always thought he was better at concealing than he was.
But the face in front of his eyes is the most beautiful he's ever seen, big black pools of ink set in pale, delicate features. Maybe Po Chi’s wanton cruelty has warped his memories.
But he doesn't think so.
"A-Yuan,” a beautiful, velvet voice is calling, "what the fuck have you done?"
Shen Yuan reaches a hand up to touch the face. If it's going to be his last moments, he wants to do something important. Like touch beautiful faces. It is his right.
"You're sparking with spiritual qi," the beautiful voice says in alarm. “A-Yuan, tell me what you’ve done!”
But Shen Yuan can't tell him what he's done, because he doesn't know what happened to him in the first place. He just wanted stronger blood worms. Luo Binghe was right: all this power and all he knows are petty tricks. Wouldn’t it be better, if his blood was stronger? How could it possibly be worse?
He begins to feel lightheaded, boneless, like a ragdoll. His head blows to the side, and there's a great big lake of red, some of it starting to seep into his clothes. That's probably blood. Judging from how he feels, it's probably his blood. That's not good.
"Try to stay conscious, it's supposed to be harder to revive people once they’ve lost consciousness," the beautiful face tells him.
"I need my blood," Shen Yuan tells the beautiful face. He's not very good at anatomy, but he's pretty certain that’s true.
He feels his body being moved out of the pool of his own blood. That's very considerate. He just knew someone so beautiful had to be that kind.
Something warm is pressed against his lips, and something metallic and tangy flows down his throat. That's bad, a small part of his brain tells him. That's very bad. That's something you don't want to happen.
But it doesn't feel bad. It feels like whatever he's drinking is putting out the fire that’s flowing through his veins. It feels like he's not going to die anymore.
Luo Binghe looks down on him, face ice cold, hard to read. The warm thing pressed against Shen Yuan's mouth is his wrist, and Shen Yuan settles himself on Luo Binghe's lap, then tries to push the wrist away. Luo Binghe holds it firm. Shen Yuan tries to shove at his chest but recoils when he finds the cloth sticky and wet. He pulls his hand away, and it comes back red and tacky.
"I do have to ask," Luo Binghe says, voice eerily level, "what you thought you were doing."
Shen Yuan gently pushes Luo Binghe's wrist away, and this time Luo Binghe lets him. He tries to say something, but all that comes out is a squeak, not exactly a great show.
“Experimenting,” he manages to rasp.
“Experimenting,” Luo Binghe repeats flatly.
“Yeah,” Shen Yuan says, closing his eyes. He really is very tired, and leans against Luo Binghe.
"What do you think would have happened if I hadn't come when I had?" Luo Binghe says quietly. Shen Yuan shrugs.
"I probably would have died," he admits. "Thanks for coming, I guess."
The grip on him tightens. "You need constant supervision."
Shen Yuan pats his chest consolingly, "It turned out alright. It’s fine.”
Luo Binghe stands and lifts Shen Yuan, carrying him bridal style. “Hold on tight, spider monkey.” He strides purposefully through the palace, steps ringing across the stone with how hard he’s stomping. Shen Yuan can’t imagine where they might be going. He hopes it’s to, bed he’s really–
“You need a bath,” Luo Binghe declares, and unceremoniously dumps Shen Yuan into his bathing pool.
Shen Yuan sputters to the surface, choking and gasping, to see Luo Binghe, naked as the day he was born, lowering himself slowly into the bathing pool.
"What are you doing?" Shen Yuan gasps.
"Taking care of you," Luo Binghe replies, already reaching for Shen Yuan's sodden clothes. "Clearly, someone has to."
Shen Yuan lets him. He lets him scrub the blood out of his hair, hands occasionally a little too rough. He lets him scrape the blood off of his body. He lets Luo Binghe pull him onto his lap, as much as you can when you're in water, and hold him.
"I was doing it because —"
"I know," Luo Binghe says. He sounds so tired that Shen Yuan doesn't push it further.
Shen Yuan doesn’t know in what world Luo Binghe thinks he’s being subtle.
“I have the strangest impression you think I should move in with you,” Shen Yuan remarks, slogging through the mud. His boots squelch with each step.
“You do?” Luo Binghe says, with a false shocked voice, high and thready. “Really, I’ve only been suggesting it for the past year.”
Shen Yuan frowns. It’s hardly been a year, three weeks, tops. But then, Luo Binghe is occasionally prone to exaggeration. “I see absolutely no good reason why I should.”
Luo Binghe snorts loudly, then spears the swamp snake that responded to his location with his sword in one smooth movement. “You don’t? Not a single one?”
“No,” Shen Yuan says, snapping his whip at a terribly overly large crocodile, “I already see you most of my waking moments, what good reason could I have to make it all of them?”
“You are aware I have been inside the place you live, correct?”
“What does that mean?” Shen Yuan snaps. But his outrage is all fake, he knows exactly what Luo Binghe means. He knows that Luo Binghe knows that he knows. Luo Binghe might’ve come in and cleaned up his palace, but that was. That was… definitely more than three weeks ago. Maybe even five months ago. Now that he thinks about it, he thinks that might’ve been over a solid year ago. And he is not too proud to admit in the privacy of his head that it is absolutely disgusting. But! He absolutely deserves credit for wearing clean clothes every day. And! His room is the cleanest it’s ever been! The sheets are constantly washed, and not crusted with the unmentionable. The fact that this is the room that Luo Binghe most frequently finds himself in besides the library has no bearing on anything whatsoever.
“Your way of life is disgusting for pack rats,” Luo Binghe says entirely pleasantly. “My palace has the finest amenities, such as sinks and indoor plumbing. My palace is also staffed so that such things as ‘cleaning’ and ‘laundry’ and ‘ensuring I don’t live in a dump’ are attended to daily.”
When Luo Binghe enumerates the finer points, it doesn’t sound that bad of a deal, especially if Luo Binghe is going to continue to show up on his doorstep. It certainly appeals to something deeply lazy within Shen Yuan. But…
“And what do you get in return?” Shen Yuan drawls.
Luo Binghe huffs out a laugh. “Is it not enough to see a friend looked after, when I have the means to do so?”
Shen Yuan bites down on the are we friends? swallowing it down to churn unpleasantly in his stomach. It’s a stupid question. Luo Binghe doesn’t have friends. Luo Binghe has wives to serve him, children to adore him, and enemies to oppose him. Sometimes, Luo Binghe has allies, but allies are conditional on their usefulness and allegiance. Mobei-jun may be Luo Binghe’s right-hand man but he’s also little more than an instrument for Luo Binghe’s will—a puppet with perhaps a touch more agency.
“A-Yuan,” Luo Binghe sighs. “It pains me to see you live like you are, eating raw chunks of flesh from whatever creature happened across your path that day. Would it truly be so bad? To live with me?”
Luo Binghe, master of manipulation that he is, doesn’t seem to realize that the majority of Shen Yuan’s unease lies not in that he is attached to being a hermit, but that he can neither fathom what Luo Binghe gets out of it nor see Luo Binghe being kind enough to make such an offer while getting nothing out of it. If Luo Binghe was smart, he’d make some shit up. If Luo Binghe just says ‘I would find it more convenient to have you close,’ Shen Yuan will totally believe that and would be moving in a heartbeat.
Instead, Shen Yuan hums. Luo Binghe frowns at him, and his aura turns distinctly displeased, and then Shen Yuan realizes. It is, of course, to Luo Binghe’s material benefit to have Shen Yuan move in, but above all, Luo Binghe wants him to beg for the privilege. It cannot be Shen Yuan’s favor to him— it is Luo Binghe’s favor to Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan’s refusal to drop to his knees and kiss his ass has struck a mighty blow against Luo Binghe’s incredibly large ego.
“Whatever,” Shen Yuan says. “Is there a real reason that we’re in the ass end of snake territory?”
“As I have told you —”
Shen Yuan waves a dismissive hand. “Yes. Got it. Not paying taxes. Ate your emissaries. Having a rogue vassal state looks bad, undermines your power, has been going on for years but you just didn’t have the brain cells to deal with it. Yes, yes.”
Luo Binghe rolls his eyes, but waits patiently.
“So what changed? Why now?”
“Now,” Luo Binghe says, “I have the time. Unfortunately, I simply cannot immediately attend to every matter that comes to my attention.”
Shen Yuan suspects that, like most things having to do with Luo Binghe, this might be the partial truth, and there are at least ten other motives, at least three of which are buried deep within Luo Binghe’s psyche, and of which Luo Binghe isn’t aware of yet.
Shen Yuan suspects he knows the cause of at least one of them.
As Shizun, it is Shen Yuan’s job to make sure Luo Binghe isn’t a total embarrassment, and to make sure that if he name-drops, Shen Yuan isn’t required to go hole up in a mountain cave for one hundred years to try and outlive the shame. Naturally, it is Shen Yuan’s job to try and correct the decades of ineptitude that have made Luo Binghe act like he wants nothing more than to break an ankle every time he fights. It’s a miracle that he hasn’t, though Shen Yuan is making the very large assumption that he hasn’t. Luo Binghe, for Shen Yuan’s pride, will learn to not fight like an idiot whether he wants to learn or not.
Even getting Luo Binghe to agree to spar had been an uphill battle. “If I wanted to learn to fight like a flittering hummingbird,” Luo Binghe says dismissively, “I would have asked one of my wives.”
“Right,” Shen Yuan nods. “Much better to fight like a plundering boulder, crushing everything in your path without control.”
Shen Yuan doesn’t think he actually succeeds in making it clear to Luo Binghe that his form is a cry for help from a sinking ship. He does think he manages to irritate Luo Binghe enough into wanting to beat the snot out of him to get him to shut up.
The palace, completely unsurprisingly, has training rooms. In some places, the walls and floors have padding. Shen Yuan wasn’t a little bitch, and neither was Luo Binghe, so they practice where the floor was entirely made out of stone. The only concession to safety is the weird glowing rocks providing the light instead of flames but that’s mostly for the safety of the house and not for the safety of the combatants.
In the spirit of being a friendly match, neither of them carry weapons. To use Shen Yuan’s whip or Xin Mo would have very easily turned this from friendly to deadly with almost no effort on either of their parts.
Well. Both of them said they weren’t going to carry weapons. Shen Yuan has several knives tucked under his robes because, frankly, it was just practical. He’d seen Luo Binghe pull knives out of unlikely places before and Shen Yuan assumes he is doing much the same. In the novels, that would have made them both the trickster character. He lets Luo Binghe have that dubious honor. Shen Yuan was much more straightlaced.
If Shen Yuan has to pick, he supposes himself the lancer— the left-hand man. No less capable than the protagonist, but slightly differently skilled, and almost always a foil. The smart one where the protagonist was stupid. Kind where they were cruel. Luo Binghe was, of course, the protagonist. Luo Binghe possesses the singular ability of being so incredibly self-centered that he could be the protagonist in other people’s lives.
Luo Binghe stands at the other end of the room, posture loose and relaxed. He is, unfortunately, an experienced fighter, and has had to compensate somewhat for his glaring failures and lacking technique. Shen Yuan wonders what his game plan should be: if he should start out easy, and then drag out the fight, make it look like they’re of equal skill, that SY just had better stamina? Should he lose a few and then pretend to get angry? Should he—
Luo Binghe moves so fast across the room it’s almost like teleportation. Shen Yuan moves without thinking. In an instant, Luo Binghe is blinking up at him from the stone floor, big black eyes wide in probably only the second time Shen Yuan had seen genuine shock in them. It isn’t there for long. Luo Binghe shoots to his feet, and again he is flat on the floor. And again and again.
While it brings Shen Yuan no small measure of joy to see Luo Binghe clearly frustrated beneath him, springing to his feet to get in just one good hit, he decides to spice it up a little and sends Luo Binghe skidding across the floor for a change. Almost immediately, Luo Binghe springs back to his feet.
This time, he doesn't charge. He paced around where he obviously thinks Shen Yuan’s strike zone ended. He’s incorrect. Shen Yuan’s reach is much farther even without his whip. Shen Yuan lets him have this false sense of security.
Luo Binghe typically relies on heavy hits, although he doesn’t lack in speed. If Shen Yuan has to guess, it’s probably because he learned that style on the fly and built it up using Xin Mo, not because it was truly what suited him best. His heritage as a Heavenly Demon allows him to bring the hammer of his power down and sustain the damage. Despite his speed and his build, Luo Binghe had finagled himself into something of a tank, even though Shen Yuan thinks he could benefit far more from a more agile fighting style.
Luo Binghe, bless him, seems to figure that out. On his next charge in, he skims on his usual heavy blows, instead tries for lighter, more glancing hits. Shen Yuan has to change tactics too— using Luo Binghe’s own momentum against him was much easier when he is out of step with himself to inflict the maximum amount of damage. Shen Yuan is forced to block, and parry and dodge. The resulting fight begins to look more like a dance, pushing and pulling each other across the floor.
Shen Yuan would love to say that he planned it this way, that he is forcing Luo Binghe to contend with his truly abysmal footwork. It was at least partly true, but mostly not. Luo Binghe is an incredible martial artist but Shen Yuan isn’t a slouch either. He put him through his paces, and while Luo Binghe stumbled, he recovers fairly quickly.
Shen Yuan uses his hip to nudge Luo Binghe off balance, and Luo Binghe doesn’t ram his face into the floor by the grace of his own reflexes and Shen Yuan’s own grace, letting Luo Binghe catch himself. Every time Luo Binghe gets knocked off balance, he takes a split second longer to recover, Shen Yuan notices. Of course Shen Yuan notices. Now he just needs to 1) not knock Luo Binghe on his ass and let him fall 2) last long enough that Luo Binghe does fall on his own ass. He thinks he gets the second part covered, but the first is turning out to be a little bit harder in conjunction with the second.
Then it happens! Luo Binghe sweeps his foot back, and then pushes off his front to shift his weight for a kick, but his back foot wasn’t in the right position and he teeters. He tries to compensate, but they had been fighting for two hours by then at the very least, and he doesn’t quite manage it, instead tumbling to the floor in a heap of black silks.
He recovers— of course he recovers— and immediately leaps back to his feet.
Shen Yuan, has gloriously, amazingly, miraculously finally makes his fucking point.
“Bad footwork can be deadly,” Shen Yuan says, feeling incredibly smug, but not allowing it to show through his voice. The lack of smugness will just make it sting more, he knows.
“How do you suggest I go forward, Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks, sickly sweet. He’s out of breath, flushed from exertion, and artfully mused with a frustrated tick to his brow. It’s unfair how attractive he looks while being gross and sweaty. “This disciple awaits your command.”
“The only solution is practice,” Shen Yuan replies.
He has been kicking Luo Binghe’s ass around several different training grounds twice a week since. Luo Binghe’s ego has obviously taken a fantastic hit that, for a while, he was medicating with borderline rough sex. The effectiveness of that is wearing off somewhat and Luo Binghe needs an unambiguous win.
So. Snake territory. Shen Yuan is probably going to end up emotionally scarred by the end of this, because he thinks that the leader of the snake clan is a demoness, and Luo Binghe likes to be a fucking freak about wooing women.
They careen through the snake clan’s territory, Luo Binghe cutting down obviously sentient snake demons without a second thought. Shen Yuan has a sinking feeling. Generally, diplomatic missions don’t go so well when step one is ‘killing the general populace.’
They make it to the central building, which also happens to be the only building, which also happens to be gaudy as hell. Shen Yuan thinks snake demons, out of all of them, would be the most inclined to live underground. But no! Instead they have this horrible monstrosity built on top swampland, and not even that well. Shen Yuan is sure it’s not his imagination that hasn’t seen the building leaning ever so slightly to the right.
Luo Binghe enters without hesitance, not even pausing to wipe the gore and muck off his sword and clothes. The filth on him is far less than what is on Shen Yuan, and Shen Yuan has no rational explanation for how this might have occurred. But it happens often enough that he is starting to think it might be a universal constant.
The palace is disgusting in its wealth. Luo Binghe also has a disgusting amount of money, but he at least has the decency to not buy ugly things with it. The snake lair is filled with things that Shen Yuan would expect of creatures that are known for poor eyesight. He doesn’t try his best not to sneer, considering the way Luo Binghe is storming towards the most opulent doors they can see.
Luo Binghe shoves open the ornate doors, storming into what can only be the throne room. The creature that sits on the throne is all snake, except for the part where she has absolutely massive tits. Shen Yuan is pretty sure snakes do not need tits. He’s decently sure none of the other snake people they have encountered have tits, but he also hasn’t been paying that much attention as he was slicing and dicing his way through them.
Yet the snake queen lounges on her throne, massive red tail coiled around the bones underneath it. Shen Yuan also might have thought that snakes didn’t sit, yet she’s doing a fantastic approximation of it, her human-like upper body giving all appearances of sitting on her throne.
The Snake Queen smiles, blood-red lips pulling back to expose two deadly-sharp fangs set across a row of pearly human teeth. Her slit eyed pupils flare and shutter as she looks at the two of them, assessing. She heaves a breath in, and her tits start to jiggle tremendously in a way Shen Yuan has never seen bare boobs do before.
“And what are you two,” a tongue flicks out to scent the air, “ handsome travelers doing in my lands? You’ve caused quite the…commotion.”
That, perhaps, is an understatement. Between the two of them, they’ve probably slaughtered upwards of three score snake demons since entering the territory. It couldn’t be helped! Luo Binghe has been feeling particularly blood-thirsty today and Shen Yuan doesn’t want to have to duke it out with him, especially considering how handsy Luo Binghe tends to get, like sparring is just an elaborate foreplay ritual. Some demonic tribes do consider fighting an essential component of mating dances, but the point is usually to prove dominance and Shen Yuan consistently kicks Luo Binghe’s ass all across whatever arena they happen to be using.
Provoking innocent snake demons and slaughtering them seemed a much better plan than letting Luo Binghe feel his ass up again.
“ We apologize profusely, my lady, for the commotion,” Luo Binghe says. He does not make a show of courtesy or respect, because he is Junshang and she is his vassal. He instead stands with a loose confidence, hand hovering ever-so-close to Xin Mo. “But my court has yet to receive tribute from your lands, and all my emissaries have come back in various states of dismemberment.”
Luo Binghe’s smile is pleasant. “All this, I believe, has been a move to anger me. I must wonder why such a small, weak state would choose to do such a thing? My wrath has been known to be punishing, and my rule is fair, never demanding anything from my vassals that they cannot provide.”
“Ah,” the snake queen says, eyes flickering in interest. “Junshang, this lowly one should have known it was you. Your beauty and power are legendary across the lands.” Luo Binghe’s pleasant smile neither wavers nor grows at the compliment. “But it is true I have a complaint.”
“I strive to be fair and just in all my dealings,” Luo Binghe promises. “Tell me, and I shall take it into consideration.”
“Lord Luo’s harem is famous, filled with beauties from across the land,” the snake queen starts. Shen Yuan has a bad feeling about this. What the fuck does the harem have to do with anything? Nothing good! “But Lord Luo’s harem only includes those that walk upon two legs, while his ancestral lands are those of the bestial demons! Your line has, in the past, intermingled with our tribe. One of your cousins owes his lineage to one of our men!”
Ah, there it is. Luo Binghe, always on the prowl for sex, and also intelligent, seems to pick up on her meaning. He looks considering, assessing. “Those that enter my harem must relinquish their titles,” Luo Binghe replies, “as is the done thing. How could I request the queen give up her throne?”
The snake queen jiggles in apprehension. “How am I to pay tribute to a court in which I am not represented? How might I pay tribute to an Emperor that does not consider me?”
Shen Yuan wants to roll his eyes so bad he thinks he might strain something by the force of holding it in. He’s seen this a thousand times before. Well, at least twenty-three, which isn’t a small number. He’s come to realize that Luo Binghe is only selective in his harem members in that they have to be exceptional in some regard— Sha Hualing is an exceptionally huge bitch, Ning Yingying is exceptionally stupid, Liu Mingyan is exceptionally beautiful. Beyond that, he seems to be collecting them like seashells. He should consider finding a hobby that is both less expensive and less dastardly.
“The last thing I want is for such a beautiful creature to not consider themselves part of my regard,” Luo Binghe says, silky smooth. “How may I rectify the situation for you?”
The snake Queen leans forward, reptilian tongue licking out at her lips. The effect is freakish in a human face, seeing it in person, and Shen Yuan makes a mental note to throw out some choice texts when he returns home. “If the Emperor would only show that he has some regard for our race and our little kingdom, this vassal would immediately resume sending tribute with great haste.”
“Then what can I do, to restore your regard for your Emperor?” Shen Yuan has spent enough time with Luo Binghe to know that the tone is more than slightly wry. But he also knows that to most, it mostly sounds seductive.
“I have heard that your harem has produced only the most beautiful and powerful of offspring,” the snake queen says, doing the tongue thing again. It’s starting to give Shen Yuan the chills. “Give me one such child.”
Luo Binghe, rather than looking angry, looks considerate. Shen Yuan realizes like a punch to the gut that Luo Binghe is going to fuck the snake woman.
It hits Shen Yuan like a bag of rocks to the face that he’s going to do it right here.
“Ah, Binghe,” Shen Yuan says, putting his hands out, “can I speak with you for a moment?”
Shen Yuan tugs Luo Binghe away, who doesn’t openly resist, but doesn’t seem particularly happy either, over to a corner.
“Are you really just going to give in?” Shen Yuan hisses. Luo Binghe shrugs.
“It’s the best way forward,” Luo Binghe says.
“The best way—” Shen Yuan says, voice strangled. Luo Binghe gives a wolfish grin.
“Maybe I’m curious. Did you consider that?”
“You’re incorrigible,” Shen Yuan says, and then he remembers what he was about to say in the first place. “That cousin of yours that she mentioned?” Shen Yuan says, “He was pathetic.”
Luo Binghe sneers. “I can’t imagine.”
“No,” Shen Yuan says, “his form, it was neither snake nor human. He was,” Shen Yuan gestures with his hands, “basically a tube of flesh, something in between human and snake, not strong enough to compress his form either way. Someone more powerful had to maintain it for him.”
Luo Binghe looks intrigued. “Truly?”
“Truly,” Shen Yuan confirms.
Luo Binghe looks as if he is reconsidering, glancing at the snake queen. But whatever he decides, it doesn’t take long.
“Well?” the snake queen demands. “What is your answer?”
“I will provide you with such a child,” Luo Binghe says magnanimously. He’s already shrugging out of his robes and the snake queen is wiggling over.
Shen Yuan turns to make for the door, but he is stopped by a hand on his shoulder before he can even make a step.
“Shen Yuan, my companion, will be the arbiter,” Luo Binghe says, “to determine that I have done my just duty.”
Shen Yuan gapes. Is this man serious? He can’t be fucking serious. Luo Binghe smirks openly, confident that the snake queen’s eyesight meant she couldn’t see it. The fucker is serious! Shen Yuan walks over to the corner, sitting down with his back against the wall, crossing his legs in front of him. Gods above, but why does Luo Binghe insist on Shen Yuan being in the same room? Is it his kink? Ugh.
Shen Yuan does his absolute level best to not witness the proceedings, but sometimes curiosity takes the better of him, and he can’t help it. It’s…it’s fascinating. Repulsive. It’s disgusting. He’s horrified, but he somehow can’t look away. It seems to last forever.
By the time Luo Binghe is shrugging back on his clothes, Shen Yuan is already well aware he’s going to be having nightmares for at least the next decade.
Luo Binghe gestures for Shen Yuan to stand, and Shen Yuan does. The snake queen is lovingly petting an egg, and Shen Yuan does not want to think about where it’s been and what he’s seen happen to it, too enraptured to remark on their departure.
“Have you thought further on my offer?” Luo Binghe says.
Shen Yuan freezes. What offer? Did Luo Binghe offer him a kid too, and he just didn’t notice? Then he remembers their prior conversation, back in the swamp. “Not really. I’m perfectly content living where I am.”
“That’s actually rather hurtful,” Luo Binghe replies, “that you think living as you are is in any way comparable to my hospitality.”
“Is that what I said?” Shen Yuan says. “I’m pretty sure that’s not actually what I said.”
“Then what did you mean?” Luo Binghe remarks. “If it’s not the amenities you find distasteful, is it the company?”
Uh oh. Danger danger danger! Why does Shen Yuan feel like he’s a shit boyfriend not living up to promises? Luo Binghe is the shit boyfriend!!! Him!!!
“It’s really more because I’m the solitary type,” Shen Yuan says, half wondering why they’re not using Xin Mo. He’s pretty sure they carved their way here to make a statement, but the statement has been made, the EGG has been FERTILIZED, and they’re leaving. There are no more messages to paint on the wall in blood. “A lone wolf, you might say.”
“Is that so?” Luo Binghe replies. “So it’s not the company, but it is the company.”
“Well, yes,” Shen Yuan says helplessly. “I like to live alone.”
“I’m uncomfortable with someone who has gone this long this close to me without any sort of tie of loyalty,” Luo Binghe says.
“What are you talking about,” Shen Yuan says lightly, trying to fast-think his way out of this one. This better not end in a fucking blood bond, which is the worst case scenario, but there are several ways that this can go incredibly poorly for him. “I’m your teacher.”
Luo Binghe shakes his head. “Normally, at this point I’d marry you. That should be good enough.”
Shen Yuan bursts into laughter before common sense can swoop in and save his ass. It’s just so funny! He’s seen Luo Binghe marry, what, over twenty women by now. Why would he want in on it? Once you vanish into the harem, it’s like a black pit. You never come out except when Luo Binghe thinks you could be useful, and that’s usually limited to window dressing. It’s not exactly a high honor when it’s happened to, oh, six hundred people.
Luckily, Luo Binghe doesn’t seem that offended. He smiles wryly. “I know, I know. I’ll think of something more palatable.”