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Chapter Text

Shen Yuan startles awake, unsure of what has woken him. Luo Binghe isn’t spending the night, as he sometimes tends to when he is just too exhausted to possibly wield Xin Mo with any sort of control. Luo Binghe is a light sleeper, and is generally prone towards proper bed etiquette, keeping neatly to his side and not kicking or clawing, but sometimes makes these pathetic whimpering noises. Shen Yuan wondered at them at first, in sleepy bewilderment, before it occurred to him. Luo Binghe is prone to nightmares, and as his bed partner, fully aware of the rumors that circulate that Luo Binghe is a dream master, Shen Yuan is mostly appreciative that Luo Binghe has the control to not drag him along down. Shen Yuan has both the good grace and the good sense to never, ever mention it.

Shen Yuan could have shrugged off his unease, gone back to bed and snuggled down for the night, but his instincts are screaming at him and he hasn't made it this far in life by ignoring them. He pauses only briefly to grab both an outer robe and his whip before entering the hallway. Nothing is obviously amiss at first, but then. He can’t explain it. It’s like something whispering at the very edge of hearing. It’s like shivers going down his spine in the heat of day. It’s like tasting the metallic scent of blood before ever seeing it. 

 And then, it happens. Bright, distinctive blue flames shoot up the walls, dancing, almost skipping in glee. The sudden light has him recoiling before he even thinks to feel the heat of the flames. Inside the flames, the faint figures of wolves dance and spin. And though everything is alight, from the tapestries so ancient they’ve outlasted whole human civilizations to pieces of furniture, nothing burns. 

Shen Yuan wants to laugh. He can almost feel it, hysterical laughter bubbling up at the back of his throat. What else would Luo Binghe have used it for? Did he truly expect to teach Luo Binghe skills that he himself had learned, and expect it to not be used against him? No, he was never so foolish. He expected it, and taught him anyway. It is his own fault. There is no one to blame but himself. Shen Yuan, holding his whip, makes his way to the front entrance of the underground palace.

He pushes his way forward into the cool night air, unaware of just how hot it was inside until the temperature difference became stark, and the cool air stings against his burned skin. He half expects Luo Binghe to be waiting for him at the entrance, proud and gloating, but Luo Binghe is nowhere to be seen. He's here, certainly. Heavenly Demon  flames require the use of qi and there is no way to do it over vast distances. Luo Binghe must know that Shen Yuan knows. That was clearly the whole point of this exercise — Luo Binghe wanted Shen Yuan to beg, and when he didn’t, Luo Binghe essentially did his equivalent of getting down on his hands and knees to ask Shen Yuan. He refused him. Shen Yuan made him feel humiliated, so Shen Yuan must be punished, and this punishment must lead to what Luo Binghe wanted in the first place.

 The hill underneath Shen Yuan’s feet rumbles. Naturally, an underground palace is mostly made out of earth and stone, which ordinarily do not burn. But heavenly flame is not subject to such constraints, and it will burn stone to ash just as easily as it will wood and paper. The hill itself is unstable without such foundations, and soon it will create a sinkhole, collapsing into itself. Shen Yuan doesn’t need a strong imagination to see how it will go, because he has witnessed it before. He has caused it before.

Shen Yuan walks down the mountain, towards the remains of what used to be a village. He hasn’t really visited it since the night it was destroyed. Didn’t see any reason to. But now, for lack of anything better to do, he heads down that way.

It’s not a particularly arduous walk, and he feels about halfway down the mountain rumbling under his feet, resettling and reshuffling to accommodate the loss of its heart. The creation of the sinkhole is not as dramatic as he thought it would be. He thought that the whole mountain would come down. The underground palace has been part of it for thousands of years, so it would’ve made sense for the loss of something that was such an intrinsic part to cause catastrophic change. The mountain does not tumble down around his ears and he makes it without further incident to where the village used to be.

The farmland has long since disappeared into the native greenery, but some of the structures still stand, the half remains of houses and stables. They are more rotted and decayed than Shen Yuan had thought they would be. Nature has already reclaimed a good chunk of them, green vines growing along the structures, and very obviously some creatures have made the more intact ones into lairs.

 The decay is much further along than it should be after a mere — Shen Yuan pauses. How long has it been? A few months certainly. No, more than that. A year. No, more than that even. Shen Yuan has spent the last three new years with Luo Binghe, at his fantastic banquet in his fantastic palace. He did not go for the first few years after he had met Luo Binghe. It has been almost five years now. Considering Shen Yuan’s lifespan, which has been far longer than even he cares to think about some days, it’s basically nothing, but for some reason the thought moves him. 

Shen Yuan frowns. Why should he care if they’re dead? He doesn’t care that much anyway, and they were frankly, nuisances. He didn’t get much out of their bargain. Vegetables. And frequently the bottom of the barrel, picked over. Fending off a whole mountain from demonic creatures was no small task, and he did it all by himself, for vegetables.  

   Out of the darkness, Luo Binghe materializes. He’s dressed simply, in his finest peasant’s clothes, with his hair pulled back in its customary ponytail. He looks like he could be any rogue cultivator, but Shen Yuan thinks that in this moment, he doesn’t look like any rogue cultivator at all. He’s the striking image of his mother, who was a huge bitch, and who Shen Yuan has always hated. Heturned out to be right, as she did lure Tianlang-jun in and locked him under a mountain, where he, to this day, still rots. 

Shen Yuan is faster than Luo Binghe. His fist slams across Luo Binghe’s jaw, the satisfying crack of knuckles against bone. Luo Binghe’s head whips to the side with the force of the blow, and he stumbles a miniscule amount.

Shen Yuan steps back, crossing his arms. Luo Binghe rights his face. Satisfyingly, a purple bruise has blossomed across his cheek bone. Unsatisfyingly, it disappears with the lightning fast healing factor of a Heavenly Demon . 

 “I’m relieved to see that you’re safe,” Luo Binghe says, evenly, perhaps even warmly. Definitely with a smirk. 

 “Are you?” Shen Yuan says.

“Of course,” Luo Binghe replies, with the tone of ‘should it not be obvious?’ 

“Then perhaps you should not have put me in danger in the first place, to cause such uncertainty.”

Luo Binghe is smiling. “I knew you would be fine.”

 Shen Yuan stares at Luo Binghe. His rage, he thinks, should be incandescent. It should burn brighter than ten thousand suns, and hotter than the heat of ten thousand forges. Shen Yuan should not be standing here with Luo Binghe, chatting amicably. He should be venting his rage with his fists, and perhaps even his whip. He should be showing this overgrown child what happens when you mess with someone who is much more powerful than yourself — you get your ass beat, then handed to you, and then he goes and lives in your house while your corpse is still warm. 

Instead, Luo Binghe cocks his head to the side, a slight smile playing on his lips, and says, “Are you ready to go home?”

Shen Yuan simply says, “yeah.” Because he has lost whatever brain cells he might have been born with. Probably because he has spent too much time with Luo Binghe and caught his stupid. With that, he accompanies Luo Binghe through the Xin Mo portal to his palace. 

 Shen Yuan thinks it might be accurate to say that he moved into Luo Binghe’s… house under great duress. It's a palace, it's a demonic underground palace, and he heard it actually used to belong to an entirely different demonic family. Shen Yuan wonders briefly if Luo Binghe is aware he has an entire ancestral home out there, just a bit moldering, waiting to be filled with all his little things. He heard it survived the fall of Tianlang-jun, and why shouldn't it? It’s meant to be a fortress. The wards are supposed to be the best in the world, the gift of Luo Binghe's great-grandmother, keyed to her line and their maritally bound companions. Shen Yuan admires her petty spirit and the myriad of ways she got back at her cheating shit husband. Truly, she is an inspiration to us all. Shen Yuan likes to think about how she’s probably rolling in her grave at this shitty way her progeny acts.

Luo Binghe's underground palace is a veritable labyrinth, twisting and winding corridors, confusing and bizarre decor. It even comes prepackaged with monsters – oh no, wait, those are his wives.

You might excuse him for not really being able to tell the difference. Luo Binghe, and what Shen Yuan already knew to be a calculated insult, but might also have been an attempted death sentence, has installed him in the harem quarters.

"These rooms are much nicer," Luo Binghe had said with a smile.

"I'm sure your guest rooms are equally as nice," Shen Yuan says, "I'm sure you wouldn't do your guests a disservice like that."

"The security is far greater in this wing of the palace," Luo Binghe replies.

"I'm not really too concerned about security," Shen Yuan argues.

"I just want you to feel like family," Luo Binghe argues. His face is earnest and serious in a way Shen Yuan knows hides just an absolute truckload of horseshit.

"I'd absolutely loathe to be that presumptuous," Shen Yuan says.

That's when Luo Binghe comes in really close, to whisper in his ear, "these rooms connect to mine."

Shen Yuan doesn't really see that being to his particular benefit, but it clearly is to Luo Binghe's, and furthermore he looks really pleased, with a weird half smirk smile on his face.

Shen Yuan toys with the idea of saying ‘why the fuck would I want that,’ but he would need all his digits to count the number of times he’s slept with Luo Binghe, and possibly would need to borrow of of Luo Binghe’s fingers besides. There’s a really resounding and obvious answer to that question he doesn’t want thrown in his face. Instead, he nods in understanding and returns the smile. In hindsight, he should have fought much harder. In hindsight, he should have done a lot of things differently, but he didn't and now he's here. Maybe, he should have killed Luo Binghe when he had the chance. Maybe he should have stayed in his burning house out of sheer spite and gone down with it. Maybe he should burn down Luo Binghe’s house. 

Instead, he's sitting at a table, and while the food in the palace is, frankly, amazing, he is possibly having the most uncomfortable and passive aggressive dinner of his entire life. What Shen Yuan failed to consider is that there are several hundred people living here, so either Luo Binghe hosts a banquet every night, which Shen Yuan isn’t going to put past him, or they have a different system of food delivery. As it turns out, the food delivery system is entirely stratified, with those currently in Luo Binghe's favor invited to dinner with him, and the rest of the plebs either having to show their sorry, unfavored faces in the main mess or have meals delivered to their rooms. Even having a meal delivered to your room is a gamble. Aside from how you have to order it ahead of time, it was basically an admittance that you weren’t in anyone’s graces and you were much much more likely to be poisoned than in the cantina. Poisoning is apparently a rampant problem.

 Shen Yuan has apparently been deeply favored every night since he arrived. He sits at Luo Binghe's right-hand side, having Luo Binghe transfer choice bits of the dishes into his bowl almost casually. As if doing this in front of an entirely rotating cast of women who have a vested interest in being Luo Binghe’s favorite was a complete accident.

Shen Yuan is reasonably confident he can take any single one of those women one-on-one, but there happens to be well, several hundred of them, and at that point it's just an army. An army of women armed with poisons, who know the lay of the land and the servants better than him. It's really not looking good for him. 

 Maybe a dumber man would’ve fought bravely in the face of adversity, braving the storm, learning the strange intricacies of living in a harem. But Shen Yuan, quite frankly, isn’t going to live that long if this keeps up. Not a single one of Luo Binghe’s wives are slackers, and they are, in fact, incredibly fierce. He was somewhat joking when he called them an army, but having been on the bad side of their wrath for about three weeks, it’s no longer a joke. Heavenly Demon s are incredibly durable, very good at regeneration, and immune to a great number of poisons. But Shen Yuan is worried that at the rate this is going, they’re going to stumble upon at least one of the incredibly rare poisons that can hurt him. It’s simply a statistical fact.

If Luo Binghe is going to favor him so publicly, he’s at a loss at why the passage between their rooms has to be secret. It wouldn’t have been more clear if Luo Binghe painted a sign on Shen Yuan’s back: we’re fucking!!!

And yet, one of the panels in Shen Yuan’s room will snick open, and Luo Binghe will ghost into the room, as casually possessive as if the room were his own. And in a manner of speaking, Shen Yuan supposes it is. 

“A-Yuan,” Luo Binghe greets him, though it’s really more of a sigh. There is no pre-amble. Luo Binghe is already shrugging off his outer layer. It’s a heavy thing, black silk picked out with gold embroidery, court clothes, for impressing whoever wanders into his throne room. Though it’s worth more than most families make in a year, he lets it tumble to the floor without thought. 

“Long day?” Shen Yuan asks rhetorically, as Luo Binghe approaches.

“Incredibly,” Luo Binghe says. Shen Yuan sets the book he’d been reading aside as Luo Binghe draws closer. A few nights ago, Luo Binghe ripped one out of his hands, flinging it against the wall, managing to crack the spine. Shen Yuan didn’t truly care that much, but this book isn’t his– he’s borrowing it from Liu Mingyan, and he doesn’t want to have to explain himself. 

Shen Yuan is lounging in the middle of his incredibly spacious bed, and he is not wearing fine court clothes. Luo Binghe asked him, earlier in his arrival, if he’d like to attend court, and Shen Yuan declined on the grounds that it sounded boring as hell. He’s been reconsidering since, curious as to how the man he knows as immature and impulsive has managed to command an impressive empire, and has considered it deeply while lounging on a daybed in a clean, well-kept room that’s sole purpose seems to be for lounging and eating grapes. 

Shen Yuan is instead wearing a plain pair of sleeping robes, one of the many outfits that have come with his new quarters. To give Luo Binghe’s credit, everything in the closet fits, and several of the clothes have even been to his taste. But of course, like everything Luo Binghe does, there was some sort of catch, and this came in the form of several outfits Shen Yuan could only describe as ‘racy.’ 

If Luo Binghe was expecting outrage, he would have been disappointed at the eyeroll and huff he instead received. Ah, Binghe, Binghe, Binghe. You could have just asked, ah?

Luo Binghe climbs his way onto the bed. It should, by all rights, look ridiculous. How could a grown man clamber on a bed and look anything but? But Luo Binghe looks graceful instead, slinking, and Shen Yuan follows him with his eyes all the way until Luo Binghe is on top of him, legs bracketing his hips, hands on either side of his head. 

Luo Binghe presses his face into the side of Shen Yuan’s neck, inhaling deeply. Shen Yuan reaches up to stroke his back, running his hands through Luo Binghe’s hair, trying to disentangle the ornaments by sight. He knows he’s tugging, but Luo Binghe barely even winces.

“Am I supposed to offer to make it better?” Shen Yuan teases, shamelessly running his hands through Luo Binghe’s freed hair. 

“You’re not going to?” Luo Binghe says, Shen Yuan’s sleeping robe is already open. At least he didn't rip it this time. “You’re so terribly cruel to me. Seeing me suffer, knowing only you can quench the flames you’ve lit.”

Shen Yuan snickers. “Oh, my lord,” Shen Yuan says in a breathy falsetto, undulating his hips up, “I didn’t mean to make you suffer so. Let me make up for my selfishness!”

Shen Yuan works to slide off the rest of Luo Binghe’s court clothes. But as he works to remove the final layer, something silky, not thick, but not lacking weight, lands on his chest. 

It’s familiar, but it takes Shen Yuan a moment to place it all the same. Ah! They’re his ropes! A lifetime ago, Tianlang-jun had gifted them to him, and Shen Yuan used them to truss Luo Binghe up and dump him on his front porch. Shen Yuan is shocked to find them in one cohesive piece, not scattered across the land for the audacity of their use. 

Luo Binghe had been apparently waiting for the recognition to drop. “A-Yuan,” he says, running his fingers across Shen Yuan’s stomach in light butterfly swirls, knowing it drives him wild, “I want to try something.”

“Is that right?”

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Luo Binghe says, grinding down so Shen Yuan can feel his thick length pressing into his stomach, “I’ve been thinking about how the ropes would look against your skin, how you would look, helpless underneath me.” He shifts, and Shen Yuan can feel the weight of him. Luo Binghe is solid, slim, but packed with muscle. But Shen Yuan doesn’t feel threatened by the weight of him. “You look so precious when you think I’m bullying you. What would you do if you couldn’t stop me? If you just had to take it?”

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about?” Shen Yuan asks. He feels the way Luo Binghe’s weight sits against him, against his hips, against his shoulders. Then he pivots his hips, flipping Luo Binghe effortlessly onto his back, using his own weight to pin him until he captures Luo Binghe’s wrists in his hands. “I don’t think I believe you.”

“Oh?” Luo Binghe says, flexing his wrists in Shen Yuan’s hands. That hold, too, can be broken with the proper application of weight. But Shen Yuan is much, much stronger than Luo Binghe, and he uses his strength to casually push him into the bed, stilling Luo Binghe’s bucking hips with his own. “Then what do you believe?”

“I think,” Shen Yuan says, activating his blood worms. He doesn’t have a free hand, and instead uses them to stroke along Luo Binghe’s sides, making him shiver. “I think that you want to be at my mercy. I think that you don’t want to have to think one more thought tonight, and you know I can fuck them out of you.”

Luo Binghe tries to break Shen Yuan’s grip on his wrist, and maybe if he had better leverage, he would have succeeded. But his brute strength isn’t enough. Luo Binghe’s eyes are dark and wide and huge, glittering with light. 

“I think,” Shen Yuan continues, and he sends his blood parasites to play with the inside of Luo Binghe’s cock, building pressure and releasing it in the way he likes, and Luo Binghe’s breath stutters, “I think that it doesn’t matter what you want, I can take from you what I like, and you can’t stop me.” And you like that, Shen Yuan thinks as Luo Binghe shivers underneath him. 

Shen Yuan finally releases Luo Binghe’s wrists, but Luo Binghe doesn’t move them. He can’t, Shen Yuan’s blood parasites make him as limp as a rag doll, and Shen Yuan takes his time dipping his fingers in the lines his muscles create under the skin, mapping out where he’s going to place ropes and knots. 

“Ah, A-Yuan, I’ve corrupted you,” Luo Binghe breathes as the silk glides around his skin. The red of it is striking against his skin, bright and vibrant against pale jade, “what happened to my romantic, dreaming of candle-lit fucks?”

“I can dim the lights,” Shen Yuan replies, securing the first knot, “I’d hate to ruin your impression of me.”

“But not enough to give me what I actually want,” Luo Binghe sighs. “A-Yuan, couldn’t you have just made my night easy, let yourself be tied up in pretty little knots?”

“Is this not what you want?” Shen Yuan says. He stops what he’s doing, sitting back on his heels. “Say it. Say this isn’t what you want. Say it, and I’ll stop.”

Shen Yuan meets Luo Binghe’s eyes. He meets them for a beat, another. “Well?” he questions softly. Luo BInghe closes his eyes, then half opens them again, peering out from under his eyelashes. “Whatever happened to taking what you want, damned what I thought about it?”

Shen Yuan leans back over, continuing his careful manipulations of Luo Binghe’s body to secure the ropes. “Maybe what I want is for you to admit you want it.”

Shen Yuan finishes, sitting back on his heels, but this time to admire his handiwork. Ropes criss-cross Luo Binghe’s chest, securing his arms behind him. On his back, it forces his chest forward and his back into an arch, but likely isn’t yet uncomfortable for someone of Luo Binghe’s flexibility. Luo Binghe, without any enhancements, is a work of art. Broad shoulders curving into a well-sculpted chest, down defined abs to strong legs. An artist could not hope to paint such beauty, they wouldn’t have the imagination for it. How could anyone conceive of someone this beautiful as being real? Shen Yuan runs his fingers along Luo Binghe’s body to confirm what his eyes tell him and he still cannot believe it. 

“When have I ever been so coy?” Luo Binghe breathes, “I always take what I want, it’s you who sits and covets.”

“Is that right?” Shen Yuan says mildly. He bends down, licking at the tip of Luo Binghe’s cock. It tastes like salt and musk, and he swirls his tongue around it, using his hand to wrap around the base. 

“I could tell you wanted me from the beginning,” Luo Binghe breathes. Shen Yuan discreetly starts to slick his hand, but then stops, a better idea coming to mind. “You wanted me from the moment you saw me.”

Shen Yuan flips him onto his stomach, canting Luo Binghe’s hips up and spreading him wide. With no preamble, Shen Yuan licks forward, to a surprised moan. Judging from the noises Luo Binghe makes, and the way his thighs tremble, he likes it an awful lot. He likes it even more when Shen Yuan sets his blood parasites back to work inside his dick.

“Didn’t you come to seek me out?” he reminds Luo Binghe, slipping his fingers into his slick hole as he strokes his hand down a thigh. Luo Binghe runs hot, and the inside of him is no exception. “Were you not there for me?”

Luo Binghe snorts, “I hardly think that’s an–”

Shen Yuan slides in, using his blood parasites to open Luo Binghe’s body around him. Luo Binghe takes him beautifully, as he always has. 

Shen Yuan can see Luo Binghe’s face, pressed against the sheets with no arms to prop himself up. His mouth is half-open, eyes half-close, panting lightly. He has that charming little flush he gets during sex sitting high on his cheekbones. Gorgeous. 

Shen Yuan reaches down and gets a solid grip in Luo Binghe’s hair, and Luo Binghe groans. Shen Yuan has never met anyone who likes having their hair pulled as much as Luo Binghe, he thinks as he fucks into him. 

“What were you saying?” Shen Yuan breathes, before biting down on Luo Binghe’s shoulder. Normally, Luo Binghe’s healing factor rarely lets such marks linger. But the ropes let him leave the tiny, perfect indents of his teeth behind. Shen Yuan likes the look of it so much he does it again. 

Luo Binghe doesn’t respond, but Shen Yuan didn’t expect him to, and a moment later, Luo Binghe is hitching his breath in that particular way he has, and his lips part and his eyebrows scrunch, like every time he comes is a surprise to him. 

Shen Yuan follows a moment after, taking a moment only to collect himself before pulling out. He gentle maneuvers Luo Binghe onto his side, before picking at the knots, carefully disentangling them. 

“Done already?” Luo Binghe quips, peering through a half-slit eye. “I know you can go more than once.”

“I want to ride you,” Shen Yuan explains, “but it’d be killer on your back to do it while your arms are tied behind it.”

Luo Binghe huffs a laugh. “Your wish is my command.”

Luo Binghe, even though his bedroom is just a corridor away, sleeps in Shen Yuan’s room that night, and almost every night he visits. Which is also almost every night. 

Some nights he doesn’t, though, and Shen Yuan accidentally stays up into the wee hours of the morning, in defense. Falling asleep just means Luo Binghe sticks his little cold gremlin hands and feet on his body to wake him up, which is never a pleasant way to arrive to consciousness. 

Luo Binghe rarely lingers, though, often gone in the morning before Shen Yuan awakes. Shen Yuan had half expected Luo Binghe to be the indolent type, lounging around in bed and in the bath, needing expensive scented oils rubbed into his muscles, but in reality seems to move more like a dervish, ping-ponging from one thing to the next with barely space to stop in between.

It is Shen Yuan who is indolent. He spends his time reading, or playing with the mini-Bings that populate the harem, their mothers permitting. Unsurprisingly, the mothers seem wary and protective of their young, and only a few are brave enough to let Shen Yuan approach. 

But it’s not all fun and games. Harem life swerves between indolence and high stress with almost no warning. Once, Shen Yuan was admiring some flowers in the garden. He’s not particularly given to admiring flowers, but these ones were squirming, their stalks waving like little tentacles, little red blossoms fluttering on the end like suction cups. A solid shove into the plant helps him find out that the stalks can act like tentacles, too, and it takes him several hours to disentangle from their loving embrace. 

He tells Luo Binghe about it that night, as Luo Binghe’s head lays on his chest, to absolutely no sympathy and several snickers. 

“That sounds so difficult,” Luo Binghe says, completely devoid of sympathy. “Your days just sound like one trial after another.”

“I just don’t want to be harassed,” Shen Yuan complains, “is that too much to ask for?”

“Do I need to take you with me to court?” Luo Binghe says, “keep an eye on you throughout the day?”

Shen Yuan stops stroking Luo Binghe’s hair, rubbing a few strands between his fingers. “I would like that.”

Luo Binghe shifts. “My wives that accompany me to court typically spend their time sprawled across my lap, feeding me fruit. Is that truly what you want?”

Shen Yuan flicks his forehead. “I’m not your wife, so there’s really no need for that. There’s no standing room near your throne? And it looked like such a big room.”

Luo Binghe is ponderously silent. “Tomorrow,” he says. 

And when tomorrow dawns– or at least, Shen Yuan assumes it dawns, an underground palace can’t really have windows– Luo Binghe is already gone, of course. Shen Yuan dresses himself. He doesn’t have fine court robes, but long gone are the days of looking like a disgusting slob. Embarrassing! Living in a cave was really no excuse, he needs to do better! 

He shrugs on a black robe lined in red, and makes efforts at his own hair, twisting into something a little more complicated than usual. 

A knock at the real door and not the one that Luo Binghe uses for their illicit midnight meetings has him turning, and just like with the secret door, Luo Binghe breezes in without warning. 

“Are you ready?’ Luo Binghe says brusquely, tugging at his sleeves. “Today is set to be busy, many petitioners to be heard.”

“I guess,” Shen Yuan says, and Luo Binghe turns sharply on his heel. “How do the petitioners know when to come?”

Luo Binghe looks at his askance. “I don’t understand your question.”

“You spend so much time away from the palace,” Shen Yuan explains, “how do they know when you’ll be in?”

“If I’m here, I hold court, and if I’m not, they wait,” Luo Binghe says simply. “The emperor dictates time, not the other way around.”

“Yes, of course,” Shen Yuan mutters. Luo Binghe ignores him, shoving open a door. It opens behind the massive marble throne, and Luo Binghe walks with no hesitation to sit on it. Shen Yuan scurries in behind him, stopping at Luo Binghe’s left side. A tall demon with white hair looks at him dispassionately, then back out at the room. He must be Mobei-jun.

Luo Binghe’s throne room is not small, as an understatement. It is probably one of the largest rooms that Shen Yuan has ever been in, and it is packed full near to bursting, with humans and demons alike. Some of those in the audience hall stare right back at Shen Yuan, but most are fixated on the demonic emperor, lounging in his marble throne.

“You,” he says, pointing to a woman dressed in the vibrant colors of the plains tribes. “What is your petition?”

Though it seems nearly impossible, the room is near silent as the petition is heard. “Our livestock,” the woman says, “they fell ill this year, we have nothing to eat, and we cannot trade with no meat—”

“What sort of illness?” Luo Binghe interrupts. The woman blinks. 

“I’m. This lowly one apologizes, your—“

“What sort of symptoms did your livestock show?” Luo Binghe repeats himself. 

“They. They just got sick, your majesty.”

“Did they behave in any unusual ways?”

The woman hesitates. “They had trouble moving, but your majesty—“

“Send a physician out,” Luo Binghe tells an attendant at the side of the room, clearly demonic. “I want to know what plague has befallen the livestock. If it’s infected any humans, kill them. Burn all the infected corpses. Provide the survivors with grain. Find who the village trades meat with, and check them for disease.” 

The woman looks gobsmacked, and continues to look so, even as she’s dragged from the room. Luo Binghe must suspect it’s Bovine Revenge. It makes the cows sick, sure, but humans that consume the tainted meat become raving lunatics, literally frothing at the mouth with an insane amount of strength. Hard to stop an infection once it’s spread. 

Luo Binghe handles his petitions with a quiet competence, making a decision and expecting it executed. It’s stunning in its brilliance, even though Shen Yuan’s feet begin to ache, and he kind of wishes he could sit down. He eyes Luo Binghe’s lap speculatively, wondering if Luo Binghe’s offer still stands. 

He decides against it, in the end, but only very narrowly.

“So how was your day in court?” Luo Binghe asks him when the last petitioner leaves, twisting on his throne. 

Shen Yuan considers. “Fascinating,” he admits. “But for tomorrow, I think you might give me a better account of your current affairs.”

“Are you attempting to promote yourself to advisor?”

“Is that not why you wanted me here?” Shen Yuan says, crossing his arms. He’s not stupid. 

Luo BInghe grins. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

Shen Yuan, from then on, attends Luo Binghe in court. For a while, it’s Mobei-Jun on Luo Binghe’s right and Shen Yuan on Luo Binghe’s left. 

Shen Yuan supposed that Mobei-jun’s purpose was to be intimidating, because the man was as dumb as a rock. Mobei-jun did exactly what Luo Binghe told him to do, no more, no less. Shen Yuan can certainly see the appeal when the warlords swagger up, all masculine big-dick energy, with at least five other muscle bound idiots behind them. It just makes good sense to match their energy by having a muscle-bound idiot of your own.

It’s Shen Yuan’s job to provide insight.

“The Red Valley is known for strawberry production, not for the massacre of their enemies.” Shen Yuan whispers in Luo Binghe’s ear. Just so he knew. He wanted Luo Binghe to know that the man adorned with several skulls was a clown, had put on a costume, and was playing a circus. 

Luo Binghe hums, as if Shen Yuan had said something particularly profound. He folds his hands in front of his face, and peers at whatever unfortunate warlord with glittering black eyes.

It was all part of the theater. It gave Luo Binghe a more intimidating, considering air. It made him look better, to have real-time information provided to him, not having to go hunt it down. It gave him another few seconds to consider while pretending to listen to Shen Yuan. This mysterious advisor – inhumanly beautiful, who seemed to know everything— gathers a reputation of his own.

Some say Shen Yuan must have been a relative of the famous seer, Madam Meiyin. Some say he was her protégé but they parted ways after quarreling over Luo Binghe. Some people say a lot of things, and Luo Binghe takes great delight in regaling Shen Yuan with increasingly outlandish rumors, about half of which Shen Yuan was near certain Luo Binghe just made up. Succubus his ass! He didn’t sleep with people to suck knowledge out of their brains. What the fuck??

Shen Yuan, of course, enacts his revenge.

“Do you think he taped his fur cape onto his shoulders,” Shen Yuan whispers into Luo Binghe’s ear. “His chest is so well oiled I’m shocked it doesn’t just slip off.”

Luo Binghe folds his hands in front of his face thoughtfully. The warlord in front of them is starting to visibly look nervous.

“Do you think he does it on purpose or it just drips down from his greasy hair?” Shen Yuan whispers again, in the middle of the warlord trying to casually share that he’s amassed a huge pile of weapons, and may or may not wish to march on Luo Binghe’s palace depending on how much grain Luo Binghe is willing to give him 

Luo Binghe props his head up on a hand, lounging on his throne like it was made of soft cushion and not ass-flattening marble.

"I hear that some animal species use a layer of fat to keep warm in the winter," Shen Yuan whispers about ten minutes later. "Do you think it's like that? Do you think he's trying to be like a whale? Poor application, but he’s got the spirit.”

“Threatening your Emperor is hardly the way to get what you want,” Luo Binghe remarks. “My advisor has been suggesting that I return your corpse to your people in pieces, to see if they’re truly as hungry as you say– hungry enough to eat you. But I have more mercy than that. If you provide me with the weapons you claim to have amassed, I will provide you with food for the winter.”

 Luo Binghe later remarks, “It’s like you can’t stand not having my attention.”

“And yet you still invite me to court,” Shen Yuan says. “I think you enjoy my commentary.”

“Is that what you think?” Luo Binghe says.

That’s exactly what Shen Yuan thinks. Shen Yuan also thinks that Luo Binghe loses his mind when Shen Yuan rides him on that stupid throne, even as Luo Binghe sits and smirks and called him ‘jealous.’

“Jealous of who?” Shen Yuan snaps, as Luo Binghe’s hands tickle up his sides. “Jealous why?” Lots of women live in Luo Binghe’s home. Shen Yuan knows that. He lives with them! Shen Yuan knows he’s married to hundreds of women, so what’s one more? Two? Twenty? A hundred? He’s not jealous! 

“Forgive me,” Luo Binghe says, nosing at Shen Yuan’s neck. “I must have misspoken.” 

And Shen Yuan truly isn’t jealous. But the fact is, that once Shen Yuan had taken to accompanying Luo BInghe to court, the attacks on himself from within the harem had ramped up ten-fold. 

He tosses aside his book, doubtful that it’s still safe considering the knife that had launched iself at his face when he opened it, and taps around at his wall. He finds the passage that Luo Binghe uses to visit him in the dead of night, the one that apparently was the largest perk about his room, and follows it down. They really need to have a talk. If Shen Yuan wasn't immune to poisons, he'd have been dead five times over already. He doesn't consider himself particularly incautious either, but he thinks the poison on the inside of his clothes was much. Very much. Very much something.

And he wasn’t expecting the children to be tiny assassins of death either. He can imagine that growing up in a harem that size is anything resembling healthy fun, but the two-year-old with a knife was a shocker. A knife! It came very close to some very important parts of his body!

Furthermore, while he can see why Luo Binghe's wives would consider him a threat, he is not a very great one. He can't have children, so he is no more threatening than any other wife. 

Wait.

He’s not a fucking wife at all. 

Even more incensed, Shen Yuan stomps down the hallway a little harder. Fuck that guy! What game does he think he’s playing? He burns Shen Yuan’s very nice house down with his priceless collection of books, and moves him here to what— be passive/active aggressive to death? Is this is some sort of murder plot with plausible deniability? Since when does Luo Binghe need plausible deniability? He should just fucking kill him if that’s what he wants.

 He follows the pathway down to the other end, a little tempted to blast the door off its stupid hinges, but instead he quietly kicks it open. It’s very poorly protected by a blood seal that Shen Yuan rips through like tissue paper. 

You wouldn’t have to tell him this is Luo Binghe’s room. It’s not the decorations. In fact, it’s almost spartan, saved from being so only by the opulence of the objects that did manage to make it into the room. There are no personal effects either, nothing that upon first glance, Shen Yuan would have known that they were Luo Binghe’s. It’s more the air of it. It’s not exactly soothing, but neither is it unsettling. Almost unused. Just a space to rest, and probably infrequently at that.

He moves into the rooms, padding as silently as he can. It is, of course, an expansive set of chambers, and as he moves further in he finds that he can identify some of the objects as rare treasures. Some he assumes are rare treasures just because they’re so hideously ugly he can’t imagine any other reason for owning them. He takes the opportunity to be an incredibly nosy bastard, as is his right. Fair is fair, and Luo Binghe certainly poked around his house. Luo Binghe even slept in his room, for gods’ sake!

Unfortunately, if one were to judge by the content of their bed chambers, one would find Luo Binghe an incredibly uninteresting man. There are paintings on the walls, but they aren’t  interesting paintings, instead tending toward forest scenes, with cranes and bamboo in ponds and waterfalls and other boring peaceful shit. He stumbles across a few instruments and isn’t particularly surprised that Luo Binghe can play, even though he’s personally never witnessed it. There are chess boards, because of course there are. Can’t fancy yourself some sort of genius without a chessboard. For all the years that Luo Binghe has lived, for all the places that he has conquered, and for all the relationships he’s had, Shen Yuan is almost convinced it should’ve left some sort of indelible physical mark. But this could’ve been the rooms of any freakishly rich young master. 

 He finds Luo Binghe in a study. It’s not small but it’s full to the near brim with books and scrolls. Only careful organization has prevented it from looking like an absolute disaster, packed full as it is. With his experienced eye, Shen Yuan can tell most of these books are likely rare, and absolutely none of them fiction.

In the center of the room, in a chair that does not encourage lounging, sits Luo Binghe. He is dressed the most informally Shen Yuan has ever seen him, excluding when he's naked. He is wearing a simple cotton shirt and pants that don’t even have embroidery . It’s almost, dare he say it, casual looking.  Like something he can imagine someone might actually wear for comfort. The iconic blue of the Heavenly Demon flame Shen Yuan taught him burns merrily over in a corner brazier, illuminating the thick tome Luo Binghe holds in his hands.

The tome looks astonishingly familiar, and if Shen Yuan had to guess, he'd say that it was probably the copy he had in his own library before it was ruthlessly destroyed. 

Luo Binghe, paranoid bastard that he is, has an advanced sense of gaze detection. Shen Yuan doesn’t get to soak in the scene for as long as he might have liked. Luo Binghe's head snaps up and he slams the book closed.

"What are you doing here?" he snaps. He smoothly rises to his feet, anger and irritation writ in every line of his body. Shen Yuan gets the sense that the tunnel was supposed to be a one-way booty call. Well, that fucking sucks for him!

“We need to talk,” Shen Yuan says, “because your wives are trying to kill me.”

“Afraid of a few women?” Luo Binghe jeers, setting the book down and stalking out of his study. 

“They’re trying to kill me!” Shen Yuan reiterates. 

“You have god-like powers of regeneration,” Luo Binghe says dismissively. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“They see me as a threat!” Shen Yuan complains, and Luo Binghe laughs. 

“Oh, they do, don’t they?” Luo Binghe ponders. “You do seem to be getting the most favor, don’t you?”

“Do something about it!”

“Don’t worry. It will pass.”

“You don’t have control over your household?” Shen Yuan snarls. “Control over the realms, but not your own household?

Luo Binghe chuckles. “Oh, I do.”

“Then why can’t you—“

“You don’t understand harem politics, do you?” Luo Binghe says. “My control is expressed because they vie for my attention. My attention is power. Asking any of them to, what, stop picking on you? That would mean you have my attention and favor. That would make the target on your back bigger.”

“Then show you don’t care about me!”

“I already do,” Luo Binghe says, “I’m not pretending to care.”

“Oh, of course,” Shen Yuan says, rolling his eyes, “You just ask me for advice and trot me out on adventures to save your ass and move me into your house so you can feed me, and I’m sure the having sex bit means nothing. Now why would I think that you care, considering everything?”

“Do you think of that as ‘care?’” Luo Binghe says, amused. 

“Is it not?”

“Oh, of course,” Luo Binghe says, smoothly. “I care about you deeply.” Luo Binghe grasps Shen Yuan’s hands in his, like he’s making an earnest entreaty. He grips hard, and the fine bones of Shen Yuan’s hands creak. “I’m sure our love with be the thing of legends, I do feed you, after all, and have sex with you. Isn’t that worthy of immortalizing?” 

Shen Yuan rips his hands out of Luo Binghe’s, but he lets them go easily. “I’m not some sort of naive maiden.” There’s a long, heavy pause loaded with meaning. Luo Binghe’s face is pitying, a small smile playing on his lips. “Oh, fuck you.”

“A-Yuan,” Luo Binghe says, faux-gently with that horrible pitying smile. The gentleness is fake, but the pity is not. Luo Binghe doesn’t need to say any more, Shen Yuan can read it all in his face.

“I wasn’t foolish enough to think someone like you was capable of love,” Shen Yuan says, voice entirely calm. He is not surprised. In novels and such, when such things happen to the intrepid heroine, or the charming hero, a chasm, a pit, and abyss opens up to swallow them whole. It’s either anger, or despair, or heartbreak. But Shen Yuan feels none of those things— he doesn’t feel anything at all. His heart does not race. His palms do not sweat. There is no sick feeling in his stomach. This was not unexpected, after all. “I didn’t think you were so foolish as to reveal that I wasn’t not in your regard.”

 “So you did think I cared,” Luo Binghe says abstractly. “But truly, what do I have to lose?”

“You seem to have forgotten, half-breed, that I am much, much stronger than you,”  Shen Yuan spits. “I can wipe the floor with you without breaking a sweat.” 

 Luo Binghe freezes, his entire body a rictus of anger. Shen Yuan used to endeavor to not make Luo Binghe angry. He can’t fathom why he even bothered. Luo Binghe isn’t as strong as him, and even though Shen Yuan has taught him his techniques, he’s had hundreds of years more to practice, to perfect them. And, not to be forgotten, Shen Yuan doesn’t fight like he’s trying to break his own goddamn ankles.

 “You really think so?” Luo Binghe says. “All this, threatening me in my own home, knowing full well how this ends, because I hurt your feelings?” Luo Binghe’s smile is mocking. “If I had bothered to marry you, how long would you have preserved, hmm?”

 “At the mercy of the army of women you keep?” Shen Yuan spits. “Not long at all. Did you  forget the very reason why I came here?” 

 “How long would you have tolerated them?” Luo Binghe wonders aloud, physically circling Shen Yuan like a predatory cat.  “How long would you have thought to yourself  ‘they attacked me because they see his favor, they attacked me because they see he cares, they attacked me out of jealousy,’ and this would’ve brought comfort to you?” 

 “And you’re telling me you would have?”

Luo Binghe shrugs. “Why would I marry you? You’ve already put out, you’ve already taught me the secrets of your clan, what more could I want?”

 The way Luo Binghe says this, Shen Yuan is well aware it’s meant to hurt. And maybe it does, a little, but Shen Yuan has just been terribly reminded, maybe by the way Luo Binghe moves, maybe by the glitter in his eyes, maybe by the fall of his hair, of Tianlang-jun. 

 Tianlang-jun was the marrying type. Tianlang-jun was a romantic of the highest caliber. If Luo Binghe thought he was pathetic, he had no idea what surprises lay in his bloodline. Shen Yuan laughs, and the sound is so genuine it seems to scare Luo Binghe, who startles into a wide-eyed look before recovering himself quickly. 

 And then Shen Yuan remembers— he’s getting upset over nobody. Over a child. Why did he think Luo Binghe cared? He knew what Luo Binghe was like, when did he forget? Luo Binghe has made no bones about where they stand and what he thinks of Shen Yuan. It’s his own idiotic fault and he should never have expected anything better, or anything different.  Unthinkingly, he has cast himself into the role of some sort of idiot maiden. ‘Oh, I can fix him! He’ll love me!’ Hah! He let his hormones get the better of him, but that veil has been rapidly lifted.

 Shen Yuan shakes his head.  His original plan of avoiding Luo Binghe clearly had merit, and he was very smart up until Luo Binghe infected him with stupid. It’s not too late for him!  He just needs to remove himself from the source of the plague and he’ll recover in time. He’s not really the sort given to pining or shit like that.  He’ll find a new subterranean liar, attached underground palace optional, and create a whole new collection of erotic books. Then Luo Binghe will become a distant bad memory that he’ll occasionally rub one out to, but no one needs to know that. That’s between him and his new collection of erotica.

 “I don’t really have much,” Shen Yuan says mildly, “given that someone burnt the shit out of all my stuff.” Okay, that wasn’t really all that mild. “But the clothes in the room I’ve been given seem to all be tailored to me, and if my Lord is so generous, I would think to take them with me.”

 “To where?” Luo Binghe says, dismissive, “you have nowhere to go.”

“As you’ve just made abundantly clear, you don’t really care where I go,” Shen Yuan says, “Or that I’m here. So I might as well go somewhere where I’m not consistently being attacked.”  

“Oh, so that’s it. I’ve made you upset, and you’re going to run away from home, even though you have no plan and nowhere to go.”  Luo Binghe is sneering. Clearly, he thinks Shen Yuan is being childish, but Shen Yuan is far past the point of giving a damn about Luo Binghe and what he considers childish.

Shen Yuan considers replying, but there’s really nothing he can say that will make him personally look good. When he replays this memory, he wants to remember himself as the cool badass, and he thinks the best way to accomplish this is to leave and not look back.

So that’s what he does.

Or, that’s what he attempts to do.

Luo Binghe grabs his shoulder. “You are not to leave.” His words are those of a harem master who is used to being obeyed, of the Heavenly Emperor used to having his whims regarded as law. “I brought you here for a reason.”

“You can’t keep me here,” Shen Yuan says matter-of-factly. He knows that Luo Binghe hasn’t challenged him in physical combat because he knows it, too. Xin Mo is impressive, certainly, but Shen Yuan’s weapon was specifically formulated to hunt demons and deals incredible amounts of damage. Luo Binghe might be a heavy hitter but Shen Yuan’s regenerative abilities are faster. Shen Yuan, in general, is better. He doesn’t have to kill Luo Binghe. He just has to get away.

 The iron grip of Luo Binghe’s hand relaxes. Shen Yuan is so pinprick aware that he can feel the small bruises heal. Luo Binghe’s hand doesn’t leave his shoulder— it just changes in tone, its brother coming to rest on Shen Yuan’s other shoulder, before they both slide down Shen Yuan’s chest as Luo Binghe’s own presses against his back. 

“Knock it off,” Shen Yuan says irritably, shrugging out of his hold and stalking toward the door. Fucking sex-crazed idiot. Does he think this can be fixed with sex? Does he think Shen Yuan’s in the mood to have anything to do with his disgusting ass?? Luo Binghe grabs him again, this time more forcefully, using Shen Yuan shock as an advantage to shove him against the wall. Luo Binghe looms over him, using his totally unfair and completely unfortunate height advantage. His hand, this time is even more suggestive, going straight for his ass. Shen Yuan lifts a knee to go for his groin but Luo Binghe maneuvers so that he’s too close to get the proper leverage to send Luo Binghe’s balls back into his throat. 

“Why are you pretending to resist?” Luo Binghe says, bringing his face close to Shen Yuan’s ear, “Your body betrays you. You want—”

 Shen Yuan never finds out what Luo Binghe thinks he wants, because he activates every blood worm he has in Luo Binghe’s body to leave him writhing on the floor. He looks at the library, full of HIS books, and around at Luo Binghe’s ugly sterile rooms. Luo Binghe grunts on the floor, lifting a hand in the shape of a claw, fingers contorting. 

There are too many books to carry. Shen Yuan flicks his fingers, and blue light dances off them, flickering to paper. It takes no time at all for them to simmer into ash. 

Luo Binghe doesn’t store much of what he owns in his room, but that doesn’t make it any less satisfying to melt carefully wrought jewelry in his hands, slash fine silks, and in a fit of truly inspired anger, burn the damn bed. 

 When Shen Yuan gets back to his room, he thinks very hard about following through on his threat to leave. Honestly, it seems like the best option. Sure, he doesn’t have a place to sleep. Or any money. Or many clothes. But it’s the principle of the thing! For his safety!

 In the end, Shen Yuan decides the only rational thing to do is to sleep on it, so he climbs into his incredibly ultra soft luxury bed with silk sheets and goose feather pillow and thinks very very deeply on it in comfort.

 In the morning, he doesn’t have any more time to think on it because Luo Binghe requires him for a crisis. He is always required for crises. Shen Yuan wishes he could say he didn't see Luo Binghe for weeks after that, but the truth is, he sees Luo Binghe every day. He doesn't get to stop being the personal librarian just because he doesn't want to see the bastard. The only notable difference is that Shen Yuan is no longer invited for dinner. Luo Binghe otherwise treats him as he always does and Shen Yuan decides to give him the silent treatment as the only rational and reasonable recourse provided to him.

It would make him feel better if it seemed to actually unnerve Luo Binghe, or if Luo Binghe seemed to notice, but as it is, all it does is provide him some measure of relief. He contents himself with this, childish as it may be, while snuggling into his incredibly comfortable bed. He is so useful Luo Binghe can’t get rid of him. 

By the time Shen Yuan hears that an ancient God who had been slumbering in a mountain range is awakening, he's already tired.

It's not even really a god— it's a primordial spirit. But it's old. It's powerful. It's killing people because it's up and cranky and also because that's… just what it does. Shen Yuan is older than consciousness, and if people were living in his house, he would also murder them all with full intention. But for the primordial being, it’s more like accidentally crushing ants. You don’t even notice until after placing your foot down that you’ve caught one or two or twenty. 

He is completely unsurprised that Luo Binghe feels he has to go Solve the ProblemTM. This might be because it is not exactly a small problem, and it is killing scores of people. Most of the time, Luo Binghe seems to treat being Emperor some sort of sexual role-play, and a lot of times it seems like being Emperor is just an excuse to take on another wife. Sometimes, he has to, like, solve problems. Or go to war. Or deal with diplomats. It's very irritating.

He is equally unsurprised that his presence is absolutely required to go solve the problem. He is unsurprised that it is simply the two of them. He is, after all, expendable. A nice meat shield to absorb blows for Luo Binghe. And he's ultra-durable too! Can’t get a better deal.

 Luo Binghe opens a portal using Xin Mo right there in the foyer, his arm falls possessively and casually around Shen Yuan's waist. Shen Yuan wants to slap him for the audacity, but as Luo Binghe's hand rubs against his hip, he rather suspects it’s the reaction he's hoping for. So he elects instead to stay entirely still, like he doesn't notice Luo Binghe's hand at all. Yeah, he gets felt up every other Tuesday, what of it? 

The portal deposits them in a place that resembles the Endless Abyss —

Actually, upon closer inspection, he thinks this is just the Abyss. It's got that weird red sky, the endless craggy rocks, the air of doom and despair, at least seven visible volcanoes, etc.

Oh wait no! Upon even closer inspection, this used to be farmland . He can kind of see a rake amongst the crags. That crag of rock looks like it used to be a watermill. The volcanos look like they used to be the Six Sisters, the chain of mountains that guarded the fertile crescent. Shen Yuan isn’t entirely sure, because he wasn’t that big of a fan of farms. Or farmers. He was a good person and very grateful that they grew the stuff he ate and he was respectful enough to leave them to their own business of toiling in the dirt. 

Luo Binghe, next to him, sighs and rubs his forehead with his hand. "This was part of your famous plan to compensate for not having supply lines, right?" Shen Yuan says, before remembering that he's not talking to Luo Binghe. He'll make an exception this time because it was an insult, and Luo Binghe needs to be insulted more. It is Shen Yuan’s duty to deflate that ego by just the tiniest amount. It’s a hard, thankless task, but the world is a better place for his efforts. 

 “There are unintended consequences to every plan," Luo Binghe says, surveying what, if Shen Yuan remembers correctly, used to be a valley that produced most of the food for the realm. "The awakening of old primordial beings cannot be planned for."

 Can’t be planned for his ass. If you poke a bear with a stick, you can’t be surprised if the bear wakes up pissed! If you’re going to fold all of reality like a bored child with a piece of paper you can’t be that surprised when these things start crawling out of the woodwork!!

Shen Yuan decides to just grunt at that. He thinks that conveys his derision more than any witty remark could.

Shen Yuan unhooks his whip from his waist, and stalks forward. Best to get this over with. The primordial being probably won’t be that hard to find, considering that it’s totally decimated the landscape, and these things tend to not be small. Where could it possibly be hiding? Shen Yuan kicks a pebble. Nope! Not under that rock. A lava stream spurt roughly a few feet from where he’s standing. Vaguely, Shen Yuan hopes he doesn’t get caught in one of those. He’d live, of course, but there’s just something about having the skin blister and peel away from your flesh that isn’t entirely pleasant.

“Where do you suppose it’s hiding?” Luo Binghe asks, hands on his hips, surveying the landscape. “I was given to the impression that it was rather large. And spider-shaped.”

Spider-shaped? Shen Yuan thought it was supposed to be worm-shaped. The nature of mother nature is that it really loves worms. And beetles. But he’s not saying anything. Shen Yuan grunts again. 

 “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not unappreciative that you finally seem to have learned the value of silence,” Luo Binghe says, in that calm, almost friendly, but definitely personable voice he has, the one that he uses to deliver the greatest of insults to his enemies’ faces and still have them laughing. “But I brought you along for your knowledge in the area, not for the joy of your company.”

 “What sort of knowledge are you looking for?” Shen Yuan asks. ”I use my eyes to look for things just like you do.”

 Luo Binghe is about to retort when the ground shakes in great shattering roiling waves. The air shimmers with heat, and the sky catches on fire. It’s incredibly dramatic and so incredibly fucking stupid that Shen Yuan wants to go home. He wants to lay down on the ground. He doesn’t want to fucking deal with this. Luo Binghe is perfectly capable of ridding the world of something that has existed before the concept of time. And if he’s not, Shen Yuan quite frankly doesn’t give a fuck. If Shen Yuan has to die, he wants to do it reading some shit trash novel and being hand fed grapes in his very nice bed. 

 The primordial being descends from the sky, landing upon the earth and sending ripples out like the ground were a disturbed pond instead of solid bedrock. Its shape has been transcribed across legends, across stories. The creature has been the basis of religions and mythologies across centuries, of worship and sacrifice. If Shen Yuan has to describe what it looks like, he has to say it looks like an overlarge kitten with vampire fangs and bat wings. Fear immediately strikes his heart.

“I didn’t think you were so weak-minded that the very glance upon the primordial being would drive you insane,” Luo Binghe says. Shen Yuan tries his best to stop laughing, but he can’t help it. The primordial being with no name pats on the ground a little, before curling into a little doughnut with its wings folded over its face.

The primordial being has no name. It existed before names. It existed before the conception of names. It existed before the thought of things that could name lived. Shen Yuan thinks Fireball would be a good name. 

 Fireball doesn’t actually look particularly interested in wreaking havoc, but the thing about ancient primordial beings is that they don’t necessarily have to intend to cause massive chaos and destruction. The first and foremost intent of Fireball seems to be to take a very long nap. Before Shen Yuan’s eyes, Fireball goes from the size of a house, to the size of a horse, to the size of a very normal cat. 

 “Does that look like a primordial being to you?” Shen Yuan asks Luo Binghe doubtfully, for a moment forgetting his rightful, incandescent rage in his confusion.

“You’re supposed to be the expert,” Luo Binghe replies. His tone isn’t snotty, but there’s no other way to interpret his words, and Shen Yuan remembers his anger and irritation all over again. Stalking forward, Shen Yuan approaches the primordial being and scoops it into his arms. Fireball makes a small, unhappy sound, but resettles quickly and continues to snooze.

 “Definitely feels like a primordial being,” Shen Yuan says, hefting it experimentally. “We should go home now. Fireball can live in my rooms.”

“Fireball?” Luo Binghe questions, then shakes his head. “Either way, no. The primordial being is not returning with you to the palace.”

“Says who?”

 “The Lord of the palace.”

Shen Yuan sneers. “And who are you to stop me?”

“The Lord of the palace,” Luo Binghe repeats, pronouncing each word slowly, his patience evidently wearing thin.

“Okay, mom,” Shen Yuan says in a display of rhetorical brilliance.

Luo Binghe closes his eyes. Shen Yuan doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know he’s mentally counting to ten. Score one for Shen Yuan.

With a pop, a man pops out of a rent in the air. Shen Yuan has gotten so used to using Xin Mo that it takes him a moment to place the distinctive noise of a transportation talisman. It’s certainly less impressive, with the talismans being notoriously unreliable. Incidents where people lose limbs or have them randomly placed in other parts of their body are rampant.

But whoever has just joined their fun little party looks mostly intact. They’re wearing robes in a bizarre assortment of colors, and their hair ornament has a symbol Shen Yuan has never seen before, which makes it incredibly rare.

The newcomer looks around in wild-eyed amazement, gaping in horror at the destruction. If Shen Yuan had to guess, he’d say the man was probably one of those new types of cultivators that have popped up since Luo Binghe basically destroyed the world. Since having a cultivation sect is no longer allowed, forms of cultivation are no longer tightly regulated. Unfortunately, it turns out cultivation wasn’t regulated only because it gave the cultivation sects more power, but also because it was incredibly dangerous. Not all paths were created equal. Sure, there’s no organized resistance to Luo Binghe’s demonic rule, but there are also several hundred absolutely insane rogue cultivators wandering the world. 

“I have awakened the primordial being,“ the man breathes, wild eyed. “I did it!” He turns to Shen Yuan and says victoriously, “I did it!” 

Luo Binghe sends Shen Yuan a triumphant look. Barely there before it’s gone, but Shen Yuan sees it and he knows exactly what it means. It means ‘ha, you were wrong. This isn’t a consequence of my actions! My actions never have consequences!’ Normally, Shen Yuan would have rolled his eyes and that would have been that. Luo Binghe’s grandiose behavior was not always worth remarking on. 

 Shen Yuan wasn’t really feeling that today. That obnoxious nails-under-skin feeling that Shen Yuan has around Luo Binghe, that constant rock-in-shoe irritation, finally bubbles up and out.

“Obviously,” Shen Yuan spits, “you didn’t awaken a fucking primordial spirit you two-bit hack. You would have died in the attempt. I’d be shocked if you had enough power to light a candle with a match.” Shen Yuan adjusts Fireball in his arms. 

The man seems struck, and then gives a hysterical laugh. “And yet, before you is evidence of a destruction so vast, it could’ve only been wrought by something beyond our comprehension. Beyond our mortal means.”

 Shen Yuan looks at the destruction. He’s not going to say it aloud, because he doesn’t want to inflate Luo Binghe’s fucking ridiculous ego, but he totally thinks that Luo Binghe could wreck this amount of destruction in a temper tantrum. And Luo Binghe is certainly not at the level of a primordial being.

The man immediately launches himself at the demonic Emperor and begins stroking his face. “I am shocked that a primordial being looks so human,” the man says, pleased. “I wonder what that means for humanity, that primordial beings are so beautiful.”

Luo Binghe shoves him off, and the man stumbles and lands flat on his ass on the ground,  blinking up like he’s been terribly wounded.  “But I summoned you,” he says plaintively. “Shouldn’t you be grateful?”

 Luo Binghe looks like he’s about to lay down his wrath on the poor unsuspecting idiot. It’s all written in his non-facial expression.

Shen Yuan decides that it is the perfect time to say, “Well, he did summon you in a manner of speaking.”

 Luo Binghe doesn’t dignify that with a response. “When you said you summoned a primordial being, what did you mean? How did you do it?”

“Are you not the primordial being?” the man says, blinking. “But you’re so powerful and strong! Beautiful almost beyond mortal comprehension.” The man blinks at Shen Yuan dubiously. “But your companion is also…are you a dual god? Two spirits in one?”

“Ah, A-Yuan,” Luo Binghe says, amused, “finally someone is close to guessing your true age.”

 “He only thinks I’m old because I’m attached to your crusty ass,”  Shen Yuan shoots back. “You should consider moisturizing. It’s making both of us look bad.” 

“If you’re not the primordial being,” the man says slowly, as if he has to think this thought with great effort, “then what is?”

“So you summon something without knowing what it was, or what it could do?” Luo Binghe questions.

The man puffs up and indignation. With his clothes and his weird hair, he looks more or less like a bird. A really ugly bird. “How are we mere mortals to comprehend something so ancient?”

“I, too, struggle to comprehend the ancient,” Luo Binghe agrees. “If you accept that they don’t think with any form of rationality, it’s much easier.”

 Shen Yuan feels insulted. He thinks that was an insult. He’s like, at least 98% sure that was an insult directed at him. Luo Binghe is smirking. It was totally an insult! Fuck this guy!! 

 “I can’t believe you think that you think with any sort of rationality!” Shen Yuan snaps. Luo Binghe ignores him, but Shen Yuan knows he’s heard because his smirk becomes more visible. You didn’t win this verbal exchange, idiot!!

 “If you didn’t do this, then what did?”

Shen Yuan proudly presents his new pet, because Luo Binghe isn’t his boss, fuck that guy. “Its name is Fireball,” Shen Yuan says. The man falters.

“Is it really?”

“Yes,” Shen Yuan says.

Luo Binghe is looking at them in irritation. “Did you have any particular motive for summoning a primordial being whose name may or may not be Fireball?”

The man, having deflated at Shen Yuan’s correction, immediately puffs himself back up. “The demons!” He says helpfully. “The demons are taking over! If we are to have any hope of survival, the demons must be eradicated.”

Shen Yuan nods. Given the situation of literally everything, it’s not a bad assumption to make. Traditionally, all that had stopped the demons from invading was numbers. Demons just didn’t have that many children. Even though demons are so much more powerful than humans it was absolutely laughable, your advantages diminish when you’re outnumbered eight to one. But Luo Binghe’s gambit meant that the demons did colonize, whether they wanted to or not. Humans are having a particularly rough go of it. Shen Yuan just isn’t particularly sure how Fireball is supposed to distinguish between the two races to specifically target one. Or how destroying farmland is a mighty blow against only the demons.

Maybe there is a certain type of eggplant that only grows in a hellscape that only humans can eat. He’s heard of weirder things, or more accurately, he’s been subjected to weirder things. Likely this was not thought of in the plan. The man doesn’t strike him as particularly intelligent, let alone full of thoughts. 

 “Oh,” Luo Binghe sighs, and Shen Yuan already knows what he’s thinking. A huge problem has gone and been made for basically nothing.

The destruction of the Fertile Crescent will impact politics and supply and distribution for years to come. There might even be a famine. There probably will be a famine. Once again, the delicate balance between humans and the demons who eat their flesh will be disrupted in the face of little food. Neither side will be happy, revolution will ferment, and Luo Binghe will have to deal with the famine and revolution. Shen Yuan is well aware that Luo Binghe has the statesman skills and the power to see his reign through the tumultuous times, but that does not mean he will come through it unscathed, and it does not mean that it will be easy.

Luo Binghe pulls out Xin Mo, a grim look on his face. He knows as well as Shen Yuan that even if the crazy cultivator does decide to put up a fight, it can’t be much of one. Luo Binghe is basically about to perform an execution with only Shen Yuan as witness. It won’t gain him any political capital. On the slim supposition that he does control the primordial being, it would be dangerous to leave him alive. Publicly executing a human before what will inevitably be a famine that will impact mostly humans will not gain him long-term political favor. In two years, when the human population has been decimated, they will not remember that it was a human who started the famine. They will remember that a human who tried to free them from the demonic reign was brutally executed, and that the same demons are eating them as they starve.

The cultivator seems to realize Luo Binghe’s intent as well. “Wait wait wait wait wait!” the cultivator says, waving his hands in front of him. “You can’t kill me! I’m the only thing keeping the creature docile.”

“I’m supposed to believe you’re controlling something you couldn’t even recognize?” Luo Binghe says.

“It’s a psychic link,” the cultivator says, “I can see inside it’s head. Um. No, wai—”

 But Luo Binghe does not wait. The cultivator’s head parts cleanly from his shoulders, tumbling on the hardened earth as his body folds to follow.

 Shen Yuan readjusts Fireball in his arms. “So what are we going to do about —”

He doesn’t get to finish his entreaty to keep his new pet. Fireball stretches in his arms, pushing out of them and shoving Shen Yuan back down on his ass. Then it grows a hundred times bigger and starts breathing fire, grows eight more legs, and starts again on the poor, abused farmland. 

“Ah, fuck,” Shen Yuan says, with feeling. 

 The ensuing battle lasts eight hours.

 Shen Yuan can give an accurate account of the first hour, in which he noticed that Luo Binghe’s footwork has improved, and he learns that Jiangxue, which was formulated specifically to deal damage to demons, did not work on primordial beings as such. He was basically holding a decorative centerpiece instead of a devastating weapon. Neat.

Around hour two, Shen Yuan has stopped caring that part of Luo Binghe’s ‘fighting as a team’ style includes using him as a jumping point, something that is both incredibly rude and annoying. 

 Around hour three, Shen Yuan has a hazy thought that he and Luo Binghe might’ve synced minds, which is always a bitch to undo, and he hopes that they’re just used to each other’s fighting styles. There were also legs. So many legs.

The rest of the five hours are such a rush of adrenaline that he can’t remember them at all. He barely even recognizes that it’s over, and he comes down from the battle high to find his body shaking, his hands covered in blood.

He looks around. The corpse of Fireball has at least 20 eyes that he can count, 30 legs, and several appendages he doesn’t even know what to begin to name them.

He looks around, trying to catch sight of Luo Binghe. He was barely out of his gaze the entire battle, even as Luo Binghe was slashing wildly at appendages that shouldn’t have existed, Shen Yuan couldn’t help but think ‘Toddler. He’s so young. He’s so young. ’ Luo Binghe would have been furious to know that Shen Yuan felt compelled to keep an eye on him, but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. 

Shen Yuan scans the landscape again, but still doesn’t see Luo Binghe. It’s fine. It’s fine! He’s around here somewhere. He’d never let himself be wounded by something as far beneath him as Fireball!

 A twitch on the ground has him running towards it. Luo Binghe is pushing himself off the ground, but his movements lack their usual grace. Instead, he moves like a jerky puppet, not quite in control of his limbs.

“Binghe?” Shen Yuan asks, crouching and reaching a tentative hand out, “are you—” 

Luo Binghe’s head snaps up, and Shen Yuan gets a good look at his eyes. The horror of Xin Mo is that it has absolutely no physical symptoms. Xin Mo’s effects are almost all psychological. You can only know that the user is in its grasp solely by their behavior. Xin Mo’s effects are also gradual, feeding on the user's own desires. There is rarely a clean line of ‘ yes, this is when Xin Mo drove them mad.’

Shen Yuan thought Luo Binghe was different. He thought he had control. Foolishly, he believed that Luo Binghe was unrivaled among the hundreds of users that have used Xin Mo.

“A-Yuan,” Luo Binghe says, grasping at the tattered front of Shen Yuan’s robes. His hands are smooth, gentling. “A-Yuan,” he says again, crooning. He curles himself into Shen Yuan’s chest, like a child. “A-Yuan.”

“I’m here,” Shen Yuan says, not sure what else to do. He strokes along Luo Binghe’s back, considering. Luo Binghe must have some method of dispelling Xin Mo’s energy if he’s made it this long. Likely, the prolonged battle forced Luo Binghe to draw more heavily on the fucking sword, allowing Xin Mo to get a foothold. If the way Luo Binghe doesn’t seem to know what emotion he wants to have is any indication, he’s probably locked in an intense mental battle with the sword. 

“What can I do?” Shen Yuan says, and his voice is several shades more helpless than he would like. He’s only familiar with Xin Mo up to the point that he knows it’s an ultra-powerful sword, but that the toll the users pay is heavy. He knows the general profile of the user too: narcisstic, sex-addicted maniac set on conquering. He’s reasonably sure these traits are usually inherent to the user themselves, and not necessarily to the sword. It takes a certain type to risk what Xin Mo will take and want what Xin Mo offers. 

“You can,” Luo Binghe says, and he doesn’t quite convulse, but he does knock Shen Yuan back until his back is on the hard earth. “You know what you can do.”

In a second, all of Shen Yuan’s good will and concern evaporates. Of fucking course. Of fucking course, it’s about sex. It’s always about sex with him. 

“Get off of me,” Shen Yuan says, shoving at Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe either was incredibly weakened by the fight or is trying his best to gain sympathy points, because he all but gets launched off in a stunning display. 

“Yuan-ge,” Luo Binghe says, pushing himself to his feet. He staggers on his way up, even for extra bullshit points. “You’ve been so cruel to me these past few weeks. You don’t want to talk. You don’t want to see me. You’ve been rejecting me at every turn.” Luo Binghe sounds legitimately heartbroken, which is how Shen Yuan knows he’s absolutely full of shit. “And even now, you reject me? When I need you the most?”

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes, even as he finds himself moving towards Luo Binghe. He props him up with a shoulder, slinging his arm around his waist. “You’re so dramatic, ” Shen Yuan grouses. “Rejecting you. I stand by your side, after the abysmal way you treated me, and that’s rejecting you? You’ll never meet anyone again who accepts you as much as I do.” Ah, this idiot. He’s got everything in the world, and is yet hungry for more. He’s a full-grown man, overgrown, and  some might even say he’s still really a pouting teenager at heart.

“Then why don’t you want me,” Luo Binghe hisses. He seems to find a burst of strength in himself to grasp at Shen Yuan’s tattered robe front, ripping it to shreds. 

“Fuck,” Shen Yuan curses, “I’m not some slobbering dog that’ll put out for you whenever the fuck you want. I’m not going to, asshole.”

Luo Binghe laughs. “Of course you will, you can’t stand to see me suffer.”

“I might be able to find it in myself,” Shen Yuan says coldly, crossing his arms. 

Luo Binghe has the audacity to laugh, stepping easily back into Shen Yuan’s space. His hands come down possessively on Shen Yuan’s hips. “So cold, Yuan-ge,” he says, eyes dancing. He tugs Shen Yuan flush against his body, and Shen Yuan unfolds his arms so that they hang at his sides. Luo Binghe is taller than him, broader, too. 

“I don’t know what you intend to accomplish with this,” Shen Yuan says. “I’m a demon, I have no spiritual qi to counterbalance Xin Mo’s influence.”

Luo Binghe hums, massaging his waist with his fingers. He doesn’t answer, instead leaning in to press his lips against Shen Yuan’s. 

No…spiritual qi…spiritual qi…

Half-human. 

Moving fast, Shen Yuan slams his hands against Luo Binghe’s chest. Demonic seals are mere enforcement of will, and who could possibly out-will Luo Binghe? He doesn’t need to. Memories come dancing back to him, how to seal a demon away, how to modify it to seal a demonic half away. He created the talisman himself for Luo Binghe’s daughter, he remembers it. It would, of course, be easier if he had an actual talisman, but they have no such luxury. Luo Binghe, on the ground beneath him, has excitement and hunger dancing in his dark eyes as Shen Yuan rips his remaining clothes to tatters.

He looks marginally less excited when Shen Yuan starts drawing on his chest in blood instead of proceeding to ravish him, and starts to look panicked instead, struggling and throwing off a wild burst of demonic energy, but Shen Yuan is fast. He has always been faster. 

“What are you—”

Shen Yuan finishes the talisman, and it’s actually rather anti-climatic. There is no explosion. There is no loud bang. There are only Luo Binghe’s eyes, going from panicked to confused. 

“What did you do?” he says, sitting up. He is staring at his hands like they might provide answers, carefully flexing them. Shen Yuan scoots back to accommodate him. 

“I sealed your demonic side,” Shen Yuan says, smug. “Xin Mo feeds off of demonic energy— without any, you’re safe.”

Luo Binghe gives him an incredulous look, half twisted in rage. “That’s the best solution you could come up with?!”

“Yes,” Shen Yuan says, resolute. It was a very good solution for being done on the fly, he should think. Sure, maybe Luo Binghe has sexed his way to health every other time, but Xin Mo had him deep in its grasp. Luo Binghe, being emotionally vulnerable? He thinks the fuck not. 

Luo Binghe looks at him, and then he starts to laugh, burying his face in his hands. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he whispers. “You have no idea what you want, do you?”

“Are you talking to me?” Shen Yuan says, pointing at his chest. 

“Who else?” Luo Binghe says, gesturing expansively. “It’s just you, me, and two corpses. Though, the corpses probably would have a better answer than you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Shen Yuan demands.

“I offer to marry you, you refuse. Then you get mad that I haven’t married you, and pull away.”

“Is that your version of events?” Shen Yuan says, dry. “Why, no wonder you had to have a temper tantrum about it.”

“Temper tantrum,” Luo Binghe says, hollow. “Yes, being driven to the brink by your actions is a temper tantrum.” 

“By my actions?” Shen Yuan says. “You set fire to my home! With me in it! What part of that is me driving you to the brink!”

“Heavenly flames only burn what you direct them to,” Luo Binghe says. “You weren’t even singed.” 

“Where was I driving you to the brink, hmm?” Shen Yuan demands. “Point to it. Show me.”

Luo Binghe laughs. “No. Now, would you be so kind as to remove the seal? I’ll give you credit. It did effectively seal Xin Mo. And for that, I won’t kill you.” 

“How generous of you,” Shen Yuan says, “I’m really feeling moved. Thanks, Shen Yuan, for your quick thinking and deep knowledge of me that lead to you noticing that I wasn’t in my right mind. It really saved my ass!”

Luo Binghe rolls his eyes and shoves at Shen Yuan’s chest. It’s such a weak, ineffectual shove that Shen Yuan almost thinks he’s playing, before he notices that Luo Binghe freezes.

Shen Yuan grabs his wrist. “You’re so delicate!” he coos, the fine bones of Luo Binghe’s wrist feeling like twigs. He could snap it with barely a thought. 

“Release the seal,” Luo Binghe commands, but he sounds tired already.

Shen Yuan doesn’t release the seal. Shen Yuan doesn’t have the faintest idea how to release the seal. The seal is somewhere between the demonic technique of enforcing will and that cultivator bullshit talisman thing. Shen Yuan reaches up to cup Luo Binghe’s face. He thinks Luo Binghe’s eyes should look different. His eyes are his father’s after all. How could such depth be merely human?

But Binghe’s eyes are the same fathomless color they’ve always been, and Shen Yuan runs a thumb underneath them, across a cheek bone that suddenly seems so incredibly fragile. That is incredibly sucky. 

“We should go home,” Shen Yuan says, quietly. 

“Shouldn’t you release the seal first?” Luo Binghe says, a stubborn not-request. Shen Yuan shakes his head. 

“I don’t think your body could handle it at the moment,” Shen Yuan says, trying to be gentle. He tries to sneakily move his blood parasites around Luo Binghe’s body, but judging by Luo Binghe’s face, it’s not exactly subtle. There’s some internal bleeding. Luo Binghe makes a face and squirms. Then immediately stills, as if embarrassed to be caught doing such a thing.

“Let me take you home,” Shen Yuan says. “I’ll watch over you. I have some skill in healing, you know.” Shen Yuan kindly ignores Luo Binghe’s snort. 

“I’m not seeing much choice,” Luo Binghe says, wry. Shen Yuan scrambles to his feet, extending his arm down to Luo Binghe and tugging him up. He feels light, insubstantial, and Shen Yuan wonders how that could be possible. He’s no less tall. He reaches out to feel Luo Binghe’s bicep. He’s no less muscular. Luo Binghe raises his eyebrows. "Should I even ask?"

Shen Yuan lowers his arm. "Just checking for injuries."

"Of course," Luo Binghe agrees, snickering.

Shen Yuan grabs Xin Mo before he does something else stupid. Xin Mo sends a little arcing jolt up his arm, like it’s throwing a tantrum, but lets Shen Yuan rip a portal into his room at Luo Binghe’s palace. Shen Yuan throws an arm around Luo Binghe’s waist, tugging him through. 

Luo Binghe walks through the portal into Shen Yuan’s room and sighs. “I see that you can take a man out of his mess, but you can’t take the mess out of a man.”

Shen Yuan looks around. It’s not dirty. It’s not even that cluttered. Luo Binghe’s army of servants meticulously organizes and cleans and dusts nearly everyday. Shen Yuan has taken it upon himself to start his collection of books all over again, this time with less an emphasis on the intellectual and more an emphasis on what will drive Luo Binghe up the wall, but even those are neatly arranged in shelves. It’s the most pristine space Shen Yuan has ever lived in. 

“It’ll have to do,” Luo Binghe says. “The fewer people that see me like this, the better.”

“How will I explain that, hm?” 

Luo Binghe laughs. “With the truth, I imagine.”

“And what’s that?”

Luo Binghe grins. “After your weeks of high-handed mistreatment, you’ve finally decided to treat me with the respect I deserve, letting me back into your bed.” Luo Binghe’s eyes turn a less amused shade. “I’m sure my wives will make the connection between a strenuous fight and Xin Mo. They might even thank you for your sacrifice.”

Shen Yuan shudders. “I’m not sure I can handle any more inquires into our sex life.”

Luo Binghe raises an eyebrow. “Who’s been asking, out of curiosity?”

Shen Yuan makes a gesture with his hand over his face, like he’s stroking a beard. “Liu… Liu Mingyan? I thought she was veiled for modesty reasons, but the question she asks… why do you look so amused?”

“I’m certain I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You do,” Shen Yuan accuses, pointing a finger. “You have that gleam.” 

Luo Binghe shakes his head. “You haven’t figured it out? Come now, A-Yuan. She’s hardly subtle.”

Shen Yuan doesn’t pout, because that’s beneath him. But he does grow frustrated. Luo Binghe walks over to his shelf, plucking one of the newer ones off. It’s by the same author as Winter’s Icy Heat, and Shen Yuan had wanted to like it, but had been entirely put off. Sometimes, it felt like he was looking into a strangely warped mirror. 

The premise was simple: a young prince of a neighbouring demonic tribe, left destitute by a ravaging war, is swept into the sprawling, luxurious court of the high demonic emperor, a domineering and charismatic man, known just as much for gentleness as wanton cruelty. 

The prince, irritating and bratty, nearly to the point of intolerability, grows steadily closer to his emperor, eventually falling–

“I’m sure,” Shen Yuan says, voice even and not betraying his panic, “that you are absolutely not suggesting that Brat Taming was written by your wife. And are not suggesting that it was based on me.”

“Naturally not,” Luo Binghe says, replacing the book. “Such an idea would be absurd.” Luo Binghe ponderously taps a finger on his chin. “Though, now that I think about it, the young princeling does bear more than a passing resemblance–”

“Please remember that you are entirely at my mercy for the foreseen future.”

“It’s his kind heart and oft-mentioned beauty,” Luo Binghe finishes, “that reminded me most strongly of you.”

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes. “If you’re delirious enough to make shit like that up, you should probably go to bed.”

“Ah,” Luo Binghe says, “your nefarious plot comes to light.”

Shen Yuan snorts. “Hardly. Get your mind out of the gutter, I meant to sleep.”

“I know.”

Shen Yuan shakes his head. Who knows what the hell goes on in Luo Binghe’s mind! Who wants to know??

He lets Luo Binghe bathe in the tub he argued strenuously to be brought to his room. None of the rooms in the harem have a bath attached. Instead, several communal bathing areas are spread throughout. Shen Yuan understands the practicality and the logistics, truly, but doesn’t think he personally should be included. 

Luo Binghe, a monumental shit, had given minor pushback just to rankle him, but had more or less immediately acquiesced. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t offered to wash my hair,” Luo Binghe says, from the bath. There’s no bathing screen, Shen Yuan has never needed one. “It’s usually the first thing you target.” 

“Do you want me to?”

“I’m just commenting,” Luo Binghe replies. “I’m simply surprised.”

Shen Yuan sees it as the ridiculously transparent ploy it is and moves to wash Luo Binghe’s hair. Luo BInghe’s hair is ludicrously thick and soft, and somehow never seems to tangle or snare. It’s a joy to simply run your hands through, provided Luo Binghe sits still enough to let you do it and doesn’t shy away like a startled horse. Shen Yuan doesn’t understand– Luo Binghe, every time, as he does now, leans into Shen Yuan’s hands. He doesn’t seem to dislike having his hair played with. Why the fuss?

Shen Yuan shrugs Luo Binghe into his own robes. Shen Yuan is both shorter and slimmer than Luo Binghe, but not by that much. Just enough that the robes should gape across his chest obscenely like they do, so that they cling to his muscles. 

Shen Yuan tugs at the lapels of the robe, trying to tug them closed. He wouldn’t put it past Luo Binghe to do it on purpose, to try to make it like Shen Yuan is small or tiny, some sort of roundabout dig. But the lapels don’t budge, and all he gets for his trouble is a smirk and an expansion of Luo Binghe’s ego that he can feel. 

“We should go to bed,” Shen Yuan says. 

“So you’ve said.” 

Shen Yuan can hear an edge of teasing or maybe mockery. He huffs. His hospitality, repaid in such a way. Shen Yuan huffs his way under the covers. It’s a big bed, even larger than the one that used to reside in his underground palace. Luo Binghe has invited himself over for the night more than once, after either a strenuous adventure or a vigorous round of sex. It’s nothing new, nothing Shen Yuan shouldn’t be used to. For some reason, right now, Shen Yuan is hyper aware of every wiggle of the bed as Luo Binghe climbs in. He’s aware of Luo Binghe’s even breathing, and he’s aware that there’s enough space between them to fit another person. 

Shen Yuan scoots across the bed, snaking his arms around Luo Binghe, pulling him close. Luo Binghe pushes weakly against his chest, and then sighs and wraps his arms around Shen Yuan in turn. 

“I always knew you’d be like this given half an opportunity,” Luo Binghe sighs. 

“Like what?”

“Nothing, A-Yuan,” Luo Binghe says. “Go to sleep.”

Deciding it’s not worth it, Shen Yuan does just that.

They spend a peaceful few days like this. At first, Luo Binghe seems to want to pace like a caged tiger. He demands nearly endless games of go, and when he’s not demanding that, he wants sex. He cleans Shen Yuan’s entire room, three times. Shen Yuan doesn’t think he’ll ever have to do it again, all the dirt will be too scared to show up.

“Why won’t you remove the seal?” Luo Binghe says petulantly, sounding more or less exactly like a sulky teen. “I know you can.”

Shen Yuan hesitates. “Can’t you feel it starting to deteriorate?”

Luo Binghe frowns. “Yes, but to let it deteriorate would take time I simply do not have.”

“I can break it,” Shen Yuan says slowly, not entirely sure that he can, “but the rebound . Didn’t you let it deteriorate the first time? You said you had some training in a cultivation sect right? Snapping the seal can be brutal, and the rebound can be incredibly damaging. I mean, you’re a full grown demon now.”

Luo Binghe sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Your concern is touching. But I need to return to my duties. There are several situations that need to be attended to that a rampaging primordial being only barely just took precedence over.”

Shen Yuan did not stop attending court after their disagreement, attending just as regularly as before. But instead of offering insights, he simply stood and observed the proceedings. He still can’t think of what Luo Binghe might be referring to. There are many moving parts in running an empire, and some of them are urgent, but not as urgent as one might expect.

There will be famine after the destruction of the farmland, but Shen Yuan has already sent out emissaries to begin creating a catalog of current stores. Besides, if there’s no food, then there’s no food. Food is something that, while urgent and necessary to live, cannot necessarily be produced in mere days.

Shen Yuan racks his brain, trying to think of what it might be.

“Did you forget?” Luo Binghe says, amused. “I have a wedding this week.”

“How am I to keep track of all these weddings?”  Shen Yuan gripes. “You have a wedding every week.” 

 “There’s a princess to the south,” Luo Binghe says, “in a city at the edge of the jungle. I think we’ve been there before — when we were looking for the Snow White Purity Vine.”

 Shen Yuan nods reluctantly. “Yes, I remember.”

“The city has flourished,” Luo Binghe says, “with the addition of new trade routes. It’s facilitated the —“

“New medical trade,” Shen Yuan sighs, “based more on herbal medicine than cultivation.”

“Yes,” Luo Binghe says. “But the… easy access to the city has not been universally popular amongst its inhabitants, who were for generations, used to the isolation.”

 “And you’re using the marriage to pacify the public and legitimize your occupation of the area,” Shen Yuan sighs. “I hope it works.”

“Diplomacy should be the first option when it comes to a people group known for their expertise in poisons,” Luo Binghe says, wryly. 

“And she agreed to the wedding because…?”

“My natural charm isn’t enough?” Luo Binghe says. “You seem to like my company.”

‘Natural charm’ is almost always code for ‘I threatened your people, family, or livelihood and made this their best option.’

“When’s the wedding envoy due to arrive?” Shen Yuan asks idly.

“Today,” Luo Binghe says. 

“Today,” Shen Yuan repeats. “And you’ll want to be in top shape for your new bride.” Who may or may not want to kill you, Shen Yuan doesn’t say. 

"You'll be in even worse condition if I break the seal," Shen Yuan says. "I think you should just wing it."

"That's dangerous," Luo Binghe says. "Just release it. I'll deal with the consequences."

Shen Yuan falters again, not sure what to say this time. Luo Binghe closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "You're not sure you can release it, are you?"

"Well," Shen Yuan says, "I did mix a few techniques, and —"

Luo Binghe takes a deep breath. "Take me to my rooms. I have to prepare."

"Maybe it can be delayed —"

"No," Luo Binghe snaps. He takes a deep breath. "No. The Empire just took a blow, losing one of the most important stretches of farmland we had. It's been a few days, but there's a chance they don't know yet. Or haven't had time to consider. The advantage needs to be pressed before they know we don’t have it. The jungle is resource rich, so it might be able to sustain the rest until we can reclaim the land."

In the end, Shen Yuan helps Luo Binghe shrug on his set of wedding robes. They are elaborate, incredibly rich. Golden dragons chase phoenixes. Flowers trickle up the collar. Shen Yuan supposes that if all else fails, he could bargain the single set of robes for years’ worth of food.

"Have you worn these often?" Shen Yuan says. "Do you commission a new set of robes for each wedding?"

"No," Luo Binghe says. "Why bother?" Luo Binghe is managing his own hair. Shen Yuan has never gotten the hang of the more elaborate styles.

"It just seems like the right thing to do," Shen Yuan says. It feels like there's some human custom about this, but Luo Binghe knows better than he does.

"It's fine," Luo Binghe assures him. Shen Yuan thinks he is talking about the robes, but Luo Binghe bats his hands away from where Shen Yuan is nervously adjusting the collar.

"Alright then," Shen Yuan says, clearing his throat and backing away. "Okay."

Luo Binghe casts him a sideways glance, but ultimately chooses to say nothing. Shen Yuan can tell that there's some sort of thought bubbling behind his eyes, but he isn't entirely sure he actually wants to hear it.

"Are you ready?” Luo Binghe says.

"Ready?" Shen Yuan splutters. "What do I need to be there for?"

"You don't want to be there?" Luo Binghe says. "Generally weddings are cause for celebration."

"Would you like me to be there?" Shen Yuan says.

"I am asking you to come."

There was a point when Shen Yuan thought the whole practice was odd. The woman would arrive at the palace, and within the day, she'd be married. In the books he read, when a bride-to-be arrived at the house, there were a few days. Maybe she'd meet her husband-to-be in the garden. Maybe she would meet another handsome man in the garden. Maybe there would be a few days for them to get to know each other. Maybe love would blossom in adversarial conditions.

But Shen Yuan has come to realize that there simply was no point. A political match was a political match. Why bother dragging it out? Why bother setting up guest rooms, when it was easier to just create a new bridal chamber? The new bride would show up, be married, and be subsumed into the harem. No pain, no fuss. 

Luo Binghe waits to receive his new bride outside his palace doors. It's a show of power. Several of his finest, most impressive guards stand with him, all in matching black armor. They're the part of the army that Shen Yuan knows Luo Binghe has but very rarely sees him use in force. He stands tall, back straight and proud. In his wedding finery, he looks every inch the powerful demonic Emperor, devastatingly beautiful. Devastatingly powerful.

The bridal parade is not quiet. Shen Yuan can hear them coming miles and miles off, like a red monster. Painstakingly slowly, the sedan and the parade grow nearer.

"Won't they hurry up already?" Shen Yuan grumbles.

"Hush," Luo Binghe admonishes him.

Eventually, on their slow human feet, the bridal parade arrives.

Shen Yuan has to assume that the bride is a beauty beyond compare, because all Luo Binghe's brides are beauties beyond compare, but he can't see through the red wedding veil she wears. He wonders if she can see through it.

"Princess," Luo Binghe greets, extending a hand warmly. His whole bearing is warm, in fact. He seems friendly, the lines of his body loose and relaxed. His face looks almost open, like someone you can trust. "It is my pleasure to finally meet you."

Fake ass bitch.

The next steps are easy. Luo Binghe will guide his new bride to where they will have the wedding, in one of the grand halls. Human weddings are a deceptively simple affair — three bows, and then the feast starts. Or maybe the feast isn't actually a required part. Shen Yuan isn't entirely sure.

But as Luo Binghe takes his new bride's hand, Shen Yuan starts to feel uneasy. He places her delicate hand in the crook of his elbow, very gentlemanly. His unease grows.

His gut has him moving before his brain can catch up, shoving Luo Binghe out of the way. Luo Binghe goes tumbling to the ground, not able to stand the force of Shen Yuan's shove in his weakened human form. For a moment, Shen Yuan feels like an idiot. He doesn't have to see the bride's face to know she's stunned, hands held at an awkward angle from her body. The silence is deafening, like the sound after a thunderbolt.

And then the pain starts.

It crawls from his stomach, like worms wiggling up his veins, like vines taking root in his body. Shen Yuan looks down at the two silver needles protruding from his stomach. They don't look like much, barely thicker than a strand of human hair. Shen Yuan's not even sure he would've seen them from a distance, which he thinks might've been the point.

"You bastards," the bride hisses, ripping off her veil.

The scene is chaos. Luo Binghe's guards rush forward to meet the suddenly armed bridal party. The bride doesn't run. The bride produces more needles, these ones much less delicate looking. She holds them between each finger, like substitute claws.

Luo Binghe. He can't defend himself. Shen Yuan tells his body to move. He put Luo Binghe in danger. If Luo Binghe is hurt, it's his fault.

His body doesn't listen. Instead, his knees buckle, and Shen Yuan barely manages to save himself from crashing face first into the dirt. Then he sees his hands. He stares down at them, deathly pale against the black stone of Luo Binghe’s front path. 

It's riveting, in a way. His hands bulge, like bugs have taken root underneath, and as they turn the sickly purple green of rot. His flesh peels away, flaking to the ground, revealing the gleaming white of bone. And then new flesh grows over, repeating and repeating and repeating.

He sees other flecks fall on the ground next to his hands, falling from what he assumes is his face. Even as he watches, the time it takes for flesh on his hands to regrow lengthens, the bone exposed for longer and longer.

There's a rough hand on his shoulder, turning him around. He meets a pair of wild black eyes, crazed in a pale face.

This is what Luo Binghe should've looked like under the thrall of Xin Mo, Shen Yuan thinks. It would have been more fittingly dramatic.

"Binghe,” Shen Yuan says, and his tongue feels thick and unwieldy. It's probably going to fall off too. "You have to go. You have to be safe."

Luo Binghe laughs hysterically.

Out of the two of them, it's most important that Luo Binghe is alright. It's vitally important that Shen Yuan didn't hurt him, even by proxy. It's important that Shen Yuan didn't make it worse.

Underwater, it would have been impossible to tell if Luo Binghe had been crying as his organs were ripped from his body and consumed. But Shen Yuan has seen Luo Binghe cry, and even the knowledge that it was fake didn't console him. It wrenched at his heart. He can't stand to see Luo Binghe cry. He raises a hand to wipe Luo Binghe's cheek, but then he sees how it's rotted, and drops it.

"Are you hurt?" Shen Yuan rasps. Luo Binghe needs to go. He needs to be safe. What if he's too hurt to move?

Luo Binghe shakes his head. Shen Yuan can vaguely feel the motion of hands at his chest, but he suspects that enough flesh has rotted away that all sensation will soon disappear.

"Good.”

The last thing Shen Yuan sees is Luo Binghe's pale face, looking younger and more lost than Shen Yuan has ever seen him.

Don't cry, he wants to say. I can't stand it when you cry.

But the dark subsumes him before he can say anything.

Shen Yuan slams into a container, his essence shunted into something that feels altogether too small and ill-fitting, wrong and eerie. His demonic qi coils around him, corroding the container he’s in, rotting it from the inside out. 

Haha, Shen Yuan thinks gleefully. They think they can trap a Heavenly Demon  soul in a container? Think again, idiots!

Immediately, a wave of pain slams into him, so sharp and intense Shen Yuan manages to feel nauseous without a stomach, his very soul aching deep within. He feels like he’s dying all over again, a phantom heartbeat slowing in his ears, soul slowly detaching from his body, like the feel of bathwater gradually going cold. 

He tries to open his eyes. Is Luo Binghe here? Did he get away safe? How many needles did that bitch have on her body?

It’s not until he feels something bump into his soul that he realizes what’s happening. 

Oh shit. There’s a very angry human soul trapped in this box—no, this body with him. He’s in a human body, and he’s killing it, horrendously and painfully, a rot from the inside out. Immediately, Shen Yuan wraps his demonic qi as tight as it will go. It’s nothing like a seal— he can’t manage that, not right now, but it stops the active decay of the body’s meridians and veins, the heart returning to a struggling thump thump. 

The human soul he’s currently sharing a room with surges angrily against his, trying to evict the intruder. It has punch to it; a cultivator’s qi wrangling behind it, but Shen Yuan hasn’t lost to a human yet, and he gathers up the body’s own qi to strike back. 

But the human soul is rabid, like a starved dog, snarling and snapping, trying to tear chunks off of Shen Yuan’s soul. That makes sense, Shen Yuan thinks. This is likely its body. 

Rabidity, however, is never an adequate substitute for the accumulated experience of hundreds of years, and Shen Yuan kicks the other soul out with the firmness of a boot to the ass. 

He rolls his soul out into the body, blinking open his new eyes. The world is dull, muted. Nothing is as sharp as it ought to be, the colors aren’t as vibrant. The sensation of blinking through murky water distracts him from what he actually sees. 

The body he occupies sits in a painted circle, sigils curling around the edges. Shen Yuan reaches his hand out, and it’s like he’s jerking a puppet on strings, movements delayed and shaky. 

He looks and he looks, and his heart sinks. 

The shape of it is a summoning spell, but it’s not what Shen Yuan expected. It’s not a spell to subjugate a soul and consume its power, it’s not a spell where the user’s soul is traded for a favor. It’s a spell to call a soul to ask questions. It’s Inquiry, with the most essential piece of it fucked to all hell. Given what Shen Yuan understands of human magics, the substituted bit is a good guess. It might have worked, had the magic been based on human convention. 

But Inquiry is not based on human convention, but demonic. To recall a soul is a demonic practice, not in the correctness and orthodoxy of how the divine have ordered the world. There is a reason that a device to recall a soul and integrate into a body is in the Mausoleum and not in the human world. 

Shen Yuan aches— but then his eye catches on a box. A beautiful box, inlaid with clever designs and pearl and jade and absolutely made for shoving a demonic soul into. 

Fuck this guy, he decides. He goes to stand, and the body he’d rather been neglecting makes itself known. It…feels warm. And like it’s getting warmer. Like it’s getting heavier. Like it’s getting weaker. 

Like it’s rejecting his soul, like it’s identified him as a sickness to be eradicated. 

Shit, Shen Yuan thinks, as his eyes start to swim. He’s going to collapse, it’s just a matter of when. Working as quickly as he can, Shen Yuan destroys the circle on the floor, smearing ink and charring the floor boards. It’s not perfect, it’s clearly evidence of a crime, but what crime is unclear. 

He stumbles up on shaky feet, hoping to distance himself from the scene of the crime. He’s possessed a body, a cultivator’s body no less, he can’t be found out. 

He stumbles out of the door into the coolness of night and the steady chirping of insects. For a moment, he thinks perhaps his fumbling attempt to cover evidence was unnecessary, this is clearly an uninhabited forest.

Then he catches sight of another small building, simple and unadorned. He stumbles toward it, great crashing uncoordinated strides, until his legs simply can’t hold him anymore, and he falls to the ground, landing with a tremendous thump. 

He blinks his eyes, the world sliding in and out of focus, spiraling down into himself. And gods above, it’s like dying all over again, Luo Binghe’s terrified face swimming in and out of view. 

“Binghe,” he thinks he says, and then his world goes dark.